A week passed. Faline kept her head down, worked hard, and trained with Lukas each evening. Duncan watched her sometimes, his eyes following her across the deck, but he said nothing. The tension was like a rope pulled taut, ready to snap.

One evening, she climbed topside for her training session. The sun was setting, painting the western sky in shades of orange and red. She looked around for Lukas but didn’t see him on deck.

Instead, she found Duncan standing near the forward mast. When he spotted her, a smile spread across his face that made her skin crawl.

“Looking for your boyfriend?” Duncan asked, straightening up.

“I’m looking for Lukas,” Faline said carefully. “We have training.”

“He’s with the Captain. Won’t be available tonight.” Duncan took a step toward her. “But I could give you a lesson or two.”

Faline backed toward the steps to the galley. “That’s alright. I’ll just—”

Duncan’s mouth twitched. “Never you mind, time to make yourself useful.” He nodded toward the open hold behind him. “Fetch me a measure of pitch. It’s in the third barrel from the bow, marked with a bit of red cord.”

Wary but glad for an excuse to get away from him, Faline climbed down into the hold. The third barrel from the bow was bound in plain rope, no cord at all — but two barrels further along, one was marked in charcoal: PITCH. She went straight to it, pried the lid, and scooped a measure into the offered pail.

When she climbed back up, Duncan was waiting, arms crossed, smile already forming. “Funny thing, Shark Bait. I told you the wrong barrel.”

Faline’s stomach dropped.

“Third from the bow’s got nails in it. Has for a week.” He took the pail from her without looking at it. “But you went straight past that one, straight to the one with the writing on it.” He leaned in close enough that she could smell the ale on his breath.

His eyes narrowed. “You can write, can’t you?”

Faline’s heart hammered in her chest. “I… what does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Lots of people can write,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Not on this ship, they can’t. Maybe a dozen at most.” He paused and flexed his hands. “And I’ve been thinking about who might have had reason to tell Schmidt about certain… conversations.”

Faline said nothing, but her silence seemed to confirm his suspicions.

“You little rat,” Duncan hissed. “You were on deck that night, weren’t you? You heard me talking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

His hand shot out and grabbed her collar, yanking her close. “Don’t lie to me. Schmidt demoted me because someone told him I was planning something. And the only people who knew were the ones I was talking to, and anyone who might have overheard.” His grip tightened. “You cost me my position. Cost me respect. Cost me coin.”

“Let go of me,” Faline gasped.

“Or what? You’ll run crying to Lukas?” Duncan shook her. “He won’t always be around to protect you, boy. Sooner or later, you and I are going to have a reckoning.”

“Is there a problem here?” Argus’s voice came from the galley entrance below.

Duncan immediately released her and stepped back, his expression shifting to something neutral. “No problem. Just having a chat with Tripps here about ship discipline.”

Argus climbed the rest of the way up, his eyes moving between them. “Tripps, get below. I need your help with inventory.”

Faline didn’t need to be told twice. She scrambled past Duncan and followed Argus down into the hold. Her hands were shaking.

“What was that about?” Argus asked once they were out of earshot.

Faline hesitated, then decided honesty was safer than lies. “He knows I can write. He thinks I’m the one who told Schmidt about his plans.”

Argus’s expression darkened. “Are you?”

She nodded.

“Damn.” Argus rubbed his beard. “Duncan’s not one to let something like that go. You need to be careful, Tripps. Very careful. Don’t go anywhere alone, especially not at night.”

“What if he tries something?”

“Then you scream loud enough for the whole ship to hear. And you stay close to Lukas as much as possible.” Argus put a hand on her shoulder, and his grip was reassuring. “Duncan’s dangerous, but he’s not stupid. He won’t try anything if there are witnesses.”

Faline nodded, but the fear had already settled into her bones. She’d made an enemy of a man who had no qualms about violence, and there was nowhere to run on a ship at sea.

That night, she lay in her bunk, listening to Argus snore, and tried not to think about what Duncan might do when he finally got her alone.