Cousin sat on the deck, her back against the mainmast. She listened. The dock was quiet. The creak and groan of the wood sounded in rhythm to the waves in the bay. The ruckus laughter of prostitutes and sailors carried over the empty spaces. No unfamiliar voices sounded near.
Haven spoke loud. The remaining crew was subdued. Bry stood the crow. Stephen stood starboard, away from the dock. Monk stood the bow. The rest of the crew was gone on shore leave. Most were on some mission or another. Cousin sat, listened and worried.
News of the bounties gnawed at her. The crew had cheered at the news. Bigger bounties meant bigger reputations, and the crew of Haven enjoyed their reputations. Nothing Cousin said would change Kraken’s or any of their minds.
Cousin played with the new charms she had made. The small stones tumbled around in their leather pouch. One stone for each of the crew. The charms would let her know if anyone was in mortal danger. None of them spoke.
“We’ve taken care of ourselves for long years before you,” Kraken had said.
Cousin remembered the feel of his lips on her forehead, soft and warm and comfort. Safety was an illusion. She knew that. It was the one lesson Protector hadn’t meant to teach her. Now it was a part of her soul.
“I love them,” Cousin said to Haven. “I love you, beautiful ship.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the mast. “They would be safer if I had not come here.”
A tingle of a whisper came through the wood. It crawled over her skin and into her core. One word came: “Faith.”
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