Lila thought of the wanted posters lining her London. “Not for the same reasons.”
“But you’ve decided to stay.”
“I think so.”
His smile warmed. “I’m glad.”
Lila blew out a breath, ruffling her hair. “I wouldn’t be,” she said. “I tend to make a mess of things.”
Hastra looked down at the little blue egg. “Life is chaos. Time is order.”
Lila drew her knees up to her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He blushed. “I’m not certain. But Master Tieren said it, so it sounded wise.”
Lila started to laugh, then cut off as her body crackled with pain. She really needed that drink, so she left Hastra to his egg and his songs and made her way down into the hold.
* * *
The galley wasn’t empty.
Jasta sat at the narrow table, a glass in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. Lila’s stomach growled, but the room smelled like Ilo had tried (and failed) to make a stew, so she went for the shelf instead, pouring herself a cup of whatever Jasta was already having. Something strong and dark.
She could feel the captain’s gaze on her.
“This new eye,” mused Jasta, “it suits you.”
Lila tipped the cup her way. “Cheers.”
Jasta set down her glass and shuffled the deck between both hands. “Sit with me. Play a hand.”
Lila scanned the table, which was covered in the remains of a game, empty glasses piled to one side and cards to the other.
“What happened to your last opponent?”
Jasta shrugged. “He lost.”
Lila smiled thinly. “I think I’ll pass.”
Jasta gave a soft grunt. “You won’t play because you know you will lose.”
“You can’t goad me into playing.”
“Tac, maybe you are not a pirate after all, Bard. Maybe you are just pretending, like Alucard, playing dress-up in clothes that do not fit. Maybe you belong in London, not out here, on the sea.”
Lila’s smile sharpened. “I belong wherever I choose.”
“I think you are a thief, not a pirate.”
“A thief steals on land, a pirate at sea. The last time I checked, I was both.”
“That is not the true difference,” said Jasta. “The true difference is tarnal.” Lila didn’t know the word. The woman must have seen, because she searched for several long seconds and then said, in English, “Fearless.”
Lila’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t realize Jasta spoke anything but Arnesian. Then again, sailors had a way of snatching words up like coins, pocketing them for later.
“You see,” continued Jasta, cutting the deck, “a thief plays the game only when they think they’ll win. A pirate plays the game even when they think they’ll lose.”
Lila downed her drink and swung a leg over the bench, her limbs leaden. She rapped her knuckles on the table, her new ring glinting in the lantern light. “All right, Jasta. Deal me in.”
The game was Sanct.
“You lose, you drink,” said Jasta, dealing the cards. They hissed across the tabletop, face down. Their backs were black and gold. Lila took up her cards and scanned them absently. She knew the rules well enough to know it was less about knowing how to play and more about knowing how to cheat.
“Now tell me,” continued the captain, stacking her own hand, “what do you want?”
“That’s a broad question.”
“And an easy one. If you don’t know the answer, you don’t know yourself.”
Lila paused, thinking. She threw down two cards. A specter and a queen. “Freedom,” she said. “And you?”
“What do I want?” mused Jasta. “To win.”
She threw down a pair of saints.
Lila swore.
Jasta smiled crookedly. “Drink.”
* * *
“How do you know when the Sarows is coming?” hummed Lila as she made her way down the ship’s narrow hall, fingertips skimming either wall for balance.
Right about then, Alucard’s warning about Jasta was coming back in full force.
“Never challenge that one to a drinking contest. Or a sword fight. Or anything else you might lose. Because you will.”
The boat rocked beneath her feet. Or maybe she was the one rocking. Hell. Lila was slight, but not short of practice, and even so, she’d never had so much trouble holding her liquor.
When she got to her room, she found Kell hunched over the Inheritor, examining the markings on its side.
“Hello, handsome,” she said, bracing herself in the doorway.
Kell looked up, a smile halfway to his lips before it fell away. “You’re drunk,” he said, giving her a long, appraising look. “And you’re not wearing any shoes.”
“Your powers of observation are astonishing.” Lila looked down at her bare feet. “I lost them.”
“How do you lose shoes?”
Lila crinkled her brow. “I bet them. I lost.”
Kell rose. “To who?”
A tiny hiccup. “Jasta.”
Kell sighed. “Stay here.” He slipped past her into the hall, a hand alighting on her waist and then, too soon, the touch was gone. Lila made her way to the bed and collapsed onto it, scooping up the discarded Inheritor and holding it up to the light. The spindle at the cylinder’s base was sharp enough to cut, and she turned the device carefully between her fingers, squinting to make out the words wrapped around it.