“Go ahead then.”

“Were you truly going to toss Lanard overboard?” He raised his bushy, brown brow.

A genuine smile blossomed, and I relished the stretch of those unused muscles. “No. But scaring him did make me feel better.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe those two have been sneaking about.” I stood, making Rylander take a step back. “You better speak to him.” I jounced my finger in Rylander’s face. “I’m not about to have a pregnancy onboard this ship.”

Rylander chuckled. “I’ll make sure to have a chat with the boy. There shall be no pregnancies on this ship.” Rylander’s eyes dipped to my stomach for the briefest moment, and my breath hitched.

A fortnight passed with no troubles. We had managed to sail beyond Sottom and were now in Eloqua territory on the Caviar Sea. The crew had found a good rhythm, growing comfortable with each other across oceans clear of pirates and, thankfully, any sign of sirens.

I walked the mess deck, observing. The cacophony of laughter and boisterous voices inside infected me, inciting a smile. The sailors enjoyed games, food, and stories. On one table, dice rolled while ten of my crew watched in anticipation of their bets, some praying to Tyche, the goddess of chance, for a favorable number. At another table, a group played cards, gambling pirated coin collected on our last voyage, the only silver left on this ship thanks to Apollo’s forceable removal of our treasure horde. And toward the back, Bernard sat atop a barrel, surrounded by twenty or so engaged spectators, spouting stories of his adventures on The Sea Singer.

I drew close to the outskirts of his ring in time to hear him say, “Tell ’em about the sirens we killed down south, Delmar. Remember the one that almost robbed you of your nose because you stood too close, eyeing her like she were pound cake?” Bernard slapped his thigh and laughed.

Delmar scratched the scruff on his chin. “That’s not how I remember it,” he grunted.

Naven wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. With his free hand, he withdrew a beaten metal flask from his vest, took a sip, and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I thought the siren was trying to pull him in and give him a smooch.” He puckered his lips, feigning a kiss an inch from his brother’s cheek.

Delmar pushed him, and Naven fell off his chair, laughing from the floor. By the dull glaze on his brown irises, I’d say he’d had enough ale.