Ketner tossed a piece of bread at Delmar’s head. “Ah, you’re lucky our captain can control the fanged fish. If he hadn’t frozen her, she’d have had her a fine taste before Bernard tackled you out of the way.” He laughed, his Prometheus’ apple bobbing. The tattooed snake on his neck appeared to chomp its fanged mouth in time.

Ketner ripped another hunk off his loaf and shoved it in his mouth, a wide grin letting us all get a good gander at his chewed food. The white markings along his dark-skinned face moved up and down like an inch worm. “What do you think kissing a siren is like?”

I continued on, walking to the farthest end where my first mate sat playing cards. I leaned up against a barrel next to her. She held a sure-fire win.

“Fold,” Krinny said, slapping her cards face down.

My lips dipped. Krinny stood and excused herself, motioning me to follow. We walked up the stairs into the salty air.

“Something on your mind?” I asked when we reached the forecastle.

“The crew’s getting restless. We’ve come across nothing but open sea. No enemy ships, no one for us to pirate, and no sirens. Even the skies are fair. Aren’t you worried things are going too smoothly?”

Without facing her, I replied, “More than you know.”

“What does Rye say about it?”

This time I did look at her. “Nothing. In fact, he’s been quiet, too.”

Rylander and I hadn’t much alone time since the night I’d threatened Lanard. Besides a couple coy glances here and there, we’d stayed out of each other’s ways. Smitter had been the only entertainment on board. He created more havoc with his trickery than we did robbing laden merchant vessels. Just three days prior, he’d switched Naven’s rum ration for water and pinned it on Delmar, but because Smitter couldn’t tell which brother was which, they’d caught him in his lies. That had been the last of his chicanery.

Rylander approached, balancing an apple slice on the tip of his knife. He wore a clean, black tunic under a dark leather vest with intricate detailing of a wave at the hemline. His hair had been recently washed and slicked back, as he’d worn it at the palace, and his month-old beard had been shaved. It appeared Rylander had time on his hands as well.

“Want a piece?” He tossed and caught the half apple in his other hand.

Fruit juice moistened his lips, and the memory of his mouth on mine came flooding back. A pool of desire sloshed in my stomach.