Page 12 of Crossbones
“What is it, Van?” I look back down at the map as the last corner flakes away into ash.
“He saw a shark in the bay, sir,” Flynt grumbles.
I look up again, this time at my navigator. He’s a short, bear of a man who manages to not have a single strand of hair on his head but a face full of beard that puts most mens’ to shame. I raise an eyebrow before looking over at Van.
“I never took you for a superstitious person.”
Van glares over at Flynt and then shrugs at me. “Just about a few things…”
“How do you feel about lost cities?” I look between the two men, both having gone still as they gape at me.
“What do you—”
“You know what I mean,” I interrupt suggestively.
It takes a minute to sink in but I see it dawn on them at nearly the same time.
“It doesn’t exist,” Van says flatly.
“But what if itdoes?” I state.
“But itdoesn’t?” Flynt offers in confusion.
“Not that I don’t believe you,” Van says slowly. “But do you have proof?”
“I just burned the coordinates.”
Both men blink at me in disbelief. Van opens his mouth as though to say something, fails and has to try again. He runs a hand over his face and nods.
“Of course you did,” he mutters.
“That’s where you both come in,” I grin. “I’m going to address the men once we’re underway.” I wave a hand in the air. “I’ll of course put it to a vote and all that but I need your help to convince them we’re not about to go chasing ghosts.”
“That’s exactly what this is,” Flynt grumbles. “So what—you burned amap. Who’s to say that map was even real?”
I shrug, amusement tugging at my lips. “Looked pretty damn real to me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Van grumbles.
“Let’s just pop up north and see what we can see.”
“Pop up there?” Flynt states. “Pop up there?You mean just casually sail into the most dangerous waters to ever exist?”
“Of course it’s in the Stormwrack,” Van mutters.
“Well, yeah, where else do you think a lost city would be? No one goes up there,” I say.
“For good reason!” Flynt’s voice is edged with concern and I can tell he’s getting worked up.
“I admit there’s a risk,” I state reasonably. “But think about what this gold could do. It would be enough to fund a real rebellion—”
“Is that what you want?” Van asks. “To overthrow your father?”
My lips press into a thin line. “Someone else needs to rule.”
“And if you overthrow your father and brother, it will be you,” Van insists.
“I don’t want the throne,” I state.
