Chapter 375:

Marina

I must say, sleeping with a prince isn’t so bad.

He’s handsome. Attentive. And he has a big—

"Hold!"

The word rips out of me before I can finish the thought. Something is wrong.

The water is changing.

Bright spots. Pale green, flickering like candle flames, rising from the depths. They drift upward, slow and hypnotic, casting the waves in an otherworldly light.

I step closer to the railing. Squint into the dark.

The bright spots multiply.

One becomes ten. Ten becomes a hundred. A hundred becomes thousands. The water is glowing—not just patches now, but whole swaths of it, green and eerie and wrong.

Oh no.

"Cover your mouths and noses!" I rip a scarf from my belt, press it over my face, tie it tight behind my head.

"Now! Move!"

The crew stares at me. Frozen.

"NOW!"

They scramble. Fabric tears. Hands fumble with knots. But it’s too late.

One of the sailors stops tying his scarf. He stares at the water. His eyes go glassy.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

He walks toward the railing.

"Stop him!" I shout.

Another man grabs his arm. The sailor doesn’t resist. Doesn’t even seem to notice. He just keeps staring at the glowing water, his mouth hanging open, his fingers reaching for the light.

"It’s so beautiful."

He climbs the railing.

Someone tackles him. They hit the deck hard. The sailor thrashes, kicks, screams,not in pain, in wanting. He wants to go to the light. He needs to go to the light.

Another man jumps.

He vaults over the railing like a lover leaping into a lover’s arms. He doesn’t scream. Doesn’t splash. Just disappears into the glowing water, his face peaceful, his eyes open.

The water around him immediately turning a darker color.

"Hold them down!" I grab another sailor by the collar, shove him to the deck, press my knee into his back.

"Don’t let them near the edge!"

The deck is chaos.

Men are screaming, thrashing, clawing at each other. Some are crying. Some are laughing. Some are staring at the water with blank, empty eyes, already gone, already lost.

I push through the crowd. Nancy is standing near the mast, her back against the wood, her scarf pressed to her face. Her eyes are wide, but she’s calm. She’s always calm.

I grab the map from her hands.

Neptune’s Candle.

Dammit.

We’re in the middle of it. Right in the colony.

"Why didn’t you tell me?!" I snap.

"I informed His Highness." Her voice is muffled behind her scarf.

I want to scream. I want to shake her. I want to throw her overboard myself.

Instead, I shove the map back into her hands and run to help the crew.

*

The night stretches on forever.

Men break free. Men are caught. Men are tied to the mast, to the cannons, to anything that will hold. Some of them weep. Some of them beg. Some of them stare at the water with empty eyes and whisper about the light.

We lock the worst ones below deck.

They pound on the doors. The wood groans. The hinges rattle. Their screams echo through the ship, desperate and inhuman, hungry.

The rest of us take shifts.

Those who aren’t tied hold down those who are. We wrestle them to the deck, pin their arms, cover their mouths. They bite. They kick. They scratch.

Some of us get poisoned—the gas seeps through the scarves, through the fabric, through the skin. Their eyes go glassy. Their hands reach for the water.

We tie them too.

One by one, the crew binds itself.

The prince is at my side, holding down a man twice his size. His scarf has slipped. His face is pale. His hands are bleeding.

"Marina!" he shouts. "How much longer?"

I look at the sky. The stars are fading. The east is growing light.

"Not long," I say. "Just hold on."

The sun rises slowly.

Pale gold spills over the horizon, painting the cliffs, the water, the ship. The glowing spots begin to fade—one by one, then in clusters, then all at once. The green light drains from the waves, leaving nothing but ordinary water, ordinary dark, ordinary sea.

The men stop struggling.

One by one, their eyes clear. Their breathing slows. They look around at the deck, at the ropes around their wrists, at the blood on their hands.

"What happened?" someone asks.

No one answers.

I untie my scarf and gasp in the fresh air. My lungs burn. My head throbs. My vision swims, then clears.

The crew is untangling ropes, checking wounds, counting heads. Three men are missing. One man is dead.

I stomp toward the prince.

My boots slam against the wooden deck. The crew parts around me like water around a hull. They know that look. They’ve seen it before.

I grab him by the collar.

His eyes go wide. His hands come up—not to push me away, to protect himself. Good. He should be scared.

"How dare you?" My voice is low. Shaking. Furious.

"How dare you fucking green-light us into Neptune’s Candle?!"

He blinks. "What?"

"Last night! That death could have been prevented!" I shake him. His teeth rattle.

"Even newborn pirates know not to sail through Neptune’s Candle!"

"I—"

I shove him off.

He stumbles back, catches himself on the mast. His face is pale. His mouth hangs open.

I don’t wait for him to finish. I don’t care what he has to say.

I turn and walk to Nancy.

She’s standing near the railing, her scarf still wrapped around her face, her eyes fixed on the water. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t flinch when I stop in front of her.

"Next time," I say, my voice sharp as a blade, "you come to me."

She looks up.

"Not him." I jerk my thumb toward the prince. "I’m on this bloody ship for a reason. I know these waters. I know what lurks in them. He doesn’t."

Nancy’s pale eyes meet mine, then she nods slowly.