Belita’s vision swam and her consciousness bobbed like a drowning man struggling to stay above water. The last of the notes of music had finally died, and the last of her crew had retired to their hammocks or passed out near the dying bonfire, leaving her alone with her thoughts. No matter how hard she had tried to banish them tonight, they had stayed with her. Between every laugh, every dance, and every shared story, her pain and guilt flowed back in. It was like trying to bail water with her bare hands.

She trudged through the sand aimlessly, muttering under her breath. She realized something was in her hand and lifted it, squinting through her double vision. It was her jeweled flask, the one she’d won from Captain Rhasp in a game of cut-throat cards that had nearly lived up to its name. She lifted it to her lips but found only drops. With a sneer of disgust she tossed it over her shoulder.

Lost in her grief she trudged aimlessly. When she remembered to focus her eyes she found herself standing on the shore, looking up at the Kestrel and the night sky.

She stared at the ship for a while, marveling at it the same way she did every time she saw it. She still couldn’t believe the ship was hers. Most of the time it felt like a dream. Tonight, it felt like a nightmare. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the ship. The gaping crack in the prow looked to her like an axe wound. 

Sometime later she had another moment of lucidity, coming to her senses by catching her balance halfway up the gangplank. She bent her knees and dropped to all fours to avoid pitching into the shallow water. After a moment to steady herself, she continued, half-crawling the rest of the way up. 

As she wandered the ship her hands touched the masts and slid along the ropes and railings as much for emotional support as for balance. She could see the dark stains on the deck where the battle had been thickest and the rain hadn’t been enough. Her breath shuddered in her chest and she choked back a sob. For a while, she just leaned against the middle mast and cried.

Her cabin door was open. Something about that seemed odd, but the thought was fleeting. She weaved her way over and pushed the door open, steadying herself against the doorframe. She was almost glad for the darkness inside, but something compelled her. She fished her trench lighter out of her inner coat pocket and fumbled to unscrew the metal match. It took all the focus she had to light the oil-soaked rope that served as the lighter’s wick. In the dim light, she looked around at the mess. There was still a pile of bloody rags in the corner. Some of them had once been her Malaharan sheets. The rug was ruined. The bed had been stripped bare, but it was still badly stained from all the blood that had soaked through. Most of her things had been brought down to the shore and put into her tent. The room looked like she felt. Empty, save for the aftermath of horror.

She only dropped her lighter once while she lit the wall lantern, adding a new tiny scorch mark to the floor. Once it was lit she pulled the rope to extinguish the lighter and absently pocketed it again as her eyes continued to wander hopelessly around her bedroom.

Her collection of Kami relics still sat on their narrow shelves, held in place by delicate netting and tacks. The graceful white pottery was a stark contrast to the bleakness of the rest of the room. The small cups and plates fascinated her. She knew nothing about them. Not even what they were made of. They weren’t glass. They weren’t stone. They seemed like pottery, but they were too light smooth to be any kind of clay she’d ever seen elsewhere. The chipped ones showed that their pure white color was not a glaze. She’d asked sages, historians, potters, explorers, and merchants, and gotten a dozen different theories, but no one knew what they were made of, or how. The only people who could have told her were centuries gone. The cups and plates she’d collected were some of the only things that proved that the people who made them had ever existed.

She slumped down the wall and kept staring at those shelves. Everything on them had a story. The first small plate, the one with the faint crack marring the pink flowers painted on its face, had been a gift from her father. She was amazed that it had never fully broken in all the years she’d had it. The delicate matching cup with the missing handle had been a random find on one of her first voyages as a mercantile captain.

After the first two, more had trickled into her possession. The sixth had been a gift from Danica. After the penny dreadfuls had begun circulating she’d become famous. The adventures of the bold and beautiful Captain Vex had spread like wildfire through the Imperial ports. The first few were mostly true, other aspiring authors had decided to capitalize on her popularity by writing more and more outlandish tales.

For no reason she could understand, her love of Kami dishes was a popular detail that had remained true regardless of how absurd the stories had gotten. After that, enterprising merchants in every port tried to sell them to her. Most were fake, or too broken, but there were enough genuine articles that she had nearly fifty pieces now. She hadn’t really meant to acquire so many, but like her literary counterpart she’d somehow become obsessed. 

The tears came again unexpectedly. She wanted to slip away, to vanish like the Kami had, leaving behind only trinkets and tall tales, but Danica was right. She couldn’t. There was nowhere to go. She had to keep up the facade a little longer. Her hand slammed against the wall and she screamed out her pain until sweet blackness took her.

____________________________________

Will had first awakened when the light had risen over the treeline and started warming the top of the tent. He wasn’t as used to getting up early as he used to be so he’d been dozing in and out while he waited for others to stir. The tent was large, but with four people in it they’d been squeezed together all night. He had slept between Friday and Bella, who both had their backs pressed against him.

Friday preferred to scoot low and curl up, so Will’s left arm was resting against the top edge of her pillow. Friday’s braided hair smelled like sweet spices that reminded him of rum. Bella was in a similar position, but she had put her pillow directly on top of his shoulder. She was holding onto his arm like a stuffed animal. At first, it had been endearing, but now his shoulder ached and his arm was numb. Still, he didn’t have the heart to wake Bella and free himself.

Jack was on Bella’s other side. Her tent would have been fairly easy to set right again, but at the time they had all been exhausted. He’d been the one to invite Jack and Quinn to sleep in his tent. It was big enough for all of them if they squeezed a bit. After a private conversation, Jack joined them but Quinn didn’t. All Jack would say about it was that his people didn’t actually need sleep. Under normal circumstances, he’d have been more than a little curious about that statement, but he’d been too tired to care.

Morning had come far too fast. He’d slept like a rock but was still tired. He felt like he could easily sleep another three or four hours, but with the sun coming up and four bodies in the tent, it was already starting to get uncomfortably warm. He sighed in resignation. There was a lot to do today and they were losing daylight. 

He slowly reached across his body with his free arm and gently shook Bella’s shoulder. She made a small sound of unhappiness, curled up a bit more, and turned her face into the pillow. 

“Time to get up, Bella,” Will said quietly, trying to shift his arm out from under her.

“Hmm-urm,” she shook her head into the pillow. She rolled over and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him close like she was trying to burrow into him for warmth.

He kissed the top of her head and smiled, then blinked in confusion as he realized someone was still holding his mostly numb hand. His eyes focused on Jack. She was still peacefully asleep. A surge of complex feelings rose in his chest. Happiness, sadness, confusion, frustration, bitterness, and worry all tangled up. He rubbed his face with his other hand and stared at the canvas above him for a while, trying to sort himself out. Friday touched his shoulder. He rolled his head to the side and met her concerned eyes.

“Alright, you?” she whispered.

He shrugged.

“Bad dream?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. Kinda feels like it though.”

“Don’t dwell,” she said with a gentle smile.

“Yeah. It’s time to get up anyway,” he agreed. “Thanks.”

He kissed the top of Bella’s head again and whispered into her hair. “I have to get up. You can stay here as long as you want. I’m going to need my arm though.”

“No,” Bella’s muffled voice said. She squeezed his arm again. “S’mine now. You c’n leave it here.”

On the other side of him, Friday propped her head upon her hand and stifled a laugh.

Will rolled his. “She hates mornings.”

“See that, I,” Friday said, her voice full of overly exaggerated sympathy.

Will slowly started pulling his arm out of Bella’s grasp. She made a noise of protest but didn’t fight him. As soon as his arm was free he sat up with a groan, accidentally pulling some of the blankets with him. Bella whined and rolled again, cocooning herself in the blanket. Her arm snaked out, stole Will’s pillow, and dragged it over her head. 

Friday put her hand over her mouth, physically stopping herself from laughing and sat up into a cross-legged position, pulling her blanket around her waist like a skirt. The warm glow of the morning sun filtered through the canvas, giving Will his first look at Friday’s bare body in full light. Her dark coffee skin looked as smooth as it had felt. Her breasts were large and spilled to the outside of her ribcage rather than pulling straight downward. Her nipples were the color of chocolate, and smaller than he’d expected. She gave him an amused smirk and raised an eyebrow at him. He realized he’d been staring and gave her a shameless smile. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, but seemed content to let him look. The pair of white serpents tattooed on her arms framed her spectacular breasts like art.

As he let his gaze wander over Friday’s body, he opened and closed his hand while pumping his arm, slowly working feeling back into it. Blood flow returned unhappily and a deep ache set in. Pins and needles sprang into his hand as the nerves woke up again. He hated that feeling.

Seeing his uncomfortable expression as he flexed his arm,  Friday reached out to him and beckoned with her hands. A bit confused, he offered her his hand. She pulled him a little closer and reached up, circling her long, slender fingers around his bicep, just below the shoulder. 

His eyes widened and he stifled a noise as her fingers found a cluster of nerves. She quickly pulsed her fingertips, squeezing and releasing rapidly, moving her hands slowly lower, stimulating the muscle bed and forcing his sluggish blood to move. He’d never felt anything like it. Each press of her fingers was uncomfortably sharp, but lasted only a moment before they were somewhere else. His whole arm twitched as she squeezed and jabbed. What she was doing in his upper arm he could feel in his fingertips. When she reached his elbow he unexpectedly sat up straighter as she firmly poked his funny bone, but before he could react further she’d already moved on. 

His fingers started curling and tensing involuntarily as she played the tendons in his forearm like harp strings. By the time she reached his hand it felt like she had pushed all the numbness down his arm and forced it to concentrate in his fingers. His hand felt strangely swollen. He could feel his heartbeat in them. She took his hand in both of hers and her technique changed to steady kneading pressure across his palm and knuckles. After a few long squeezes, she grabbed his wrist in one hand and his pinky in the other and squeezed hard, slowly pulling downward until his fingertip was uncomfortable from the pressure. Her grip finally slipped off the end of his finger in sudden release, and she grabbed another finger, repeating the process until each digit had been squeezed and pulled. 

When she finished, his whole arm felt like it had been beaten with a meat tenderizer and worked with a rolling pin. It had been a surprisingly uncomfortable experience that had sometimes crossed all the way into pain, but now that it was over he was awed by the warm feeling of pleasure and relaxation that had been left in its wake.

He stared at his hand, moving it like it was new and unfamiliar. “How?” 

She winked at him.

“Thank you,” he said, still awed by what the doctor had done. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do that.” 

“Happily,” she said with a sensual stretch.

He turned again and saw Jack was awake. She was sitting similar to Friday, but with her blanket tucked modestly beneath her arms. She had obviously been watching Friday work his arm. He caught the interest and curiosity just before it changed to uncertainty as their eyes met. She gave him a small smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he replied. “Ready for a fun day in the jungle?”

“No,” Jack said. “I feel like I need about six cups of tea.”

“I don’t think Stewpot brought tea,” Will said sympathetically.

“I brought my own,” Jack said.

“Of course you did,” Will chuckled. “Tea and explosives are the only things you consistently bring anywhere.”

Jack shrugged. “A lady has to provide her own amenities when traveling with brutes.”

Someone cleared their throat outside the tent. Jack waited for Friday to pull her blanket up, then opened the tent flap. Quinn ducked through the entrance and took a knee. He had four steaming wooden mugs in his hands.

“Oh, you’re a godsend,” Jack said, taking two of the mugs from him and offering them to Will and Friday. As Will reached to take them, Bella rolled again, burrowing tighter into her mess of blankets and pillows, inadvertently tugging on the blanket she’d been sharing with Jack. 

Jack and Will froze, holding two scalding cups over Bella’s head as the blanket wrapped across Jack’s chest pulled free, revealing her breasts like a magician’s trick.

Jack and Will’s eyes locked. Jack’s face turned red. Will forced his face to remain blank and slowly, carefully took the mugs and turned away, passing a mug to Friday and making sure that Jack was outside of his peripheral vision. 

Meanwhile, Jack tried to pull the blanket back from Bella, but it was rolled beneath her. Bella made a noise of protest and pulled back, rolling the blankets tighter around her. Jack sighed and rolled her eyes, defeated.

Quinn passed Jack the other two mugs and began to untie his sarong to give Jack something to cover herself with. After a moment, she shook her head and Quinn stopped.

Will kept his back turned and took a sip of his tea, barely tasting it as thoughts swam through his head. He had a feeling Jack expected him to look. He’d never been the type to hide when he was looking at someone, or to look away when he was caught. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with acknowledging or indulging in attraction. He’d found that as long as he was respectful about it, women enjoyed that sort of thing. This was a different situation though. This wasn’t getting caught admiring someone. This was an accident. Jack hadn’t meant to be uncovered. In that situation, looking away seemed like the right thing to do. He gave her long enough to figure out a way to cover herself, then slowly turned back like nothing had happened.

When he saw she was still nude from the waist up he started to turn again, but stopped when she sighed in exasperation. 

“It’s fine, Will,” Jack said, rolling her eyes and giving a small glare to the pile of blankets Bella hid under.

Will gave her a small, questioning look. 

She shrugged. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Besides, modesty seems a little pointless after last night.”

“True,” he said, taking another sip of his tea. As he drank, he finally let himself look at Jack. He’d seen her last night too, but the surprise and the dark made it hard to think about what he’d seen. Now, she was right in front of him in warm daylight. She was so familiar, so every difference from what he remembered was a surprise. She looked leaner. Harder. Her breasts were smaller, and her muscles were more clearly defined. The line down the center of her torso was deeper and accentuated her stomach muscles more than it used to. He could see the faint protrusions of her sternum, and the curves of her ribs. Now that he thought of it, her face was narrower too. He met her eyes again. 

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “That didn’t mean ogle,’ she said flatly.

“Would you prefer a gawk?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” Jack smirked. “You look particularly foolish when you gawk. If you’re going to stare, you might as well amuse me while you’re at it.”

“Did someone say ogle?” Bella said, pushing the pile of pillows off her face and blinking sleepily. “Oh, hello,” she grinned as her eyes sleepily focused on Jack’s nudity.

Jack looked pained, but cracked a smile. “Good morning, blanket thief.”

Bella rubbed her eyes and blinked, focusing on the cups in Jack’s hands. “Did I hear tea?”

Jack’s demeanor changed instantly. “Yes,” she said, handing Bella a mug and then offering her a hand.“Sit up.” 

Bella took it, and let Jack help pull her up to a seated position. She yawned and stretched with a small squeak, completely unashamed of her nakedness as the blankets fell away. Looking down at herself, she started picking at what was left of the sigils she’d drawn the night before. She rolled her breasts from one side to the other, moving them and lifting them to get a better look at how much of the sigils had survived the night.

Will, Jack, and Friday all watched appreciatively, and exchanged glances with each other, sharing a quick round of quiet amusement. Whatever residual awkwardness there had been between Jack and Will, it faded with Bella between them. Somehow, she made sitting around naked together feel normal.

“This new recipe is certainly durable,” Bella said, starting to peel away a strip of dried body paint. “We’re all going to need a bath.” Giving up for the moment, put both hands on her mug and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply and enjoying the warmth of the cup. “Oh, that smells amazing. What is it?”

“My father’s latest blend. It’s his usual fermenting and drying process, but now he’s added orange peel from his orchards,” Jack said. She took another sip and smiled at Quinn. “It’s perfect.”

Quinn gave her a small nod. “I have your things prepared.”

“Thank you,” Jack smiled at him.

Quinn began to stand and leave, but Jack put a hand on his thigh. He stopped, and knelt again, this time going to both knees and sitting on his haunches next to her. Jack leaned over and kissed his bare shoulder. His normally stoic face softened to affection as he looked back at her.

Will wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but the hint of orange was nice, and this morning he would take any kind of pick-me-up he could get. 

“I have never had tea,” Friday said. “It is very nice.”

Jack looked aghast. “You have never had tea?”

“I hadn’t had tea when you met me either,” Bella reminded her.

“Tea is a rich person’s vice,” Will shrugged. 

“Oh it is not,” Jack rolled her eyes.

“Expected it to be sweeter, I,” Friday said.

“It can be,” Jack said. “I usually take mine with sugar.”

“Lots of sugar,” Will chuckled.

“My people prefer coffee,” Friday said.

Jack shook her head. “Too bitter for my taste.”

“Only had it the Imperial way, you. Black, and over-steeped. Much better is the Barcolan way, with Cacao, cinnamon, and goat’s milk.”

“Oh, that sounds divine,” Jack said longingly.

Jack’s sweet tooth always amused Will. She seemed like such a serious and dignified person most of the time, but she melted for sugary confections of any kind. Particularly chocolate.

“Get me back to civilization, I will make you the best coffee in the world,” Friday said.

“Deal,” Jack smiled. 

“I suppose we should get started then,” Bella said, shoving her nest of blankets away so she could tuck her cup in between her thighs. Then she rooted around beneath her pillows and dragged out her multicolored satchel. After a bit of digging,  she pulled out the small bag that held her cards. “Everyone circle up,” she said as she started shuffling. “Let’s see what the future holds today.”

______________

Caine opened the door a crack, squinting into the morning light. “You’re early.”

“I believe you imperials have a saying about birds and worms,” Kaduska said.

Behind the big merchant, a small woman with a semi-transparent veil sat in the driver’s seat of a large covered wagon. Two teens were unloading boxes from it. 

“The girls are still asleep. Let’s try to keep this quiet,” Caine said, coming outside.

“You remember my wife, Samara,” Kaduska said, gesturing to the veiled woman as she stepped down off the wagon and approached. 

“Ma’am,” Caine nodded. 

“Your charges?” she asked without a greeting. Her voice was heavy with the rolling Malaharan accent. “Where are they?”

“Upstairs,” Caine said.

She brushed past him and went inside.

“My sons, Dula and Kasim,” Kaduska said. The boys waved as they set down the first crates next to the door. “This is Mister Caine,” the big man finished.

“Did you really beat up an entire crew of pirates?” the smaller youth asked.

Caine chuckled. “Which time?”

The boy’s eyes went wide and Kaduska ushered them back towards the wagon. “Stop that. Mister Caine is our client. What does that mean?”

“No questions,” the boys answered in unison as they ran back to the rear of the wagon.

“Apologies,” Kaduska said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Caine said. “They’re good kids.”

Caine and Kaduska began bringing the boxes in and stacking them on the table. “Did Chance give you any trouble?” Caine asked.

“I went to retrieve Miss Janie’s things from the fort. Samara went to your former employer. She said he tried to claim that some of Miss Janie’s things belonged to the brothel, but decided not to press the issue,” Kaduska said with an amused grin.

“Smart of him,” Caine smirked. 

“Most only ever argue with her once,” Kaduska said proudly.

“I guess I’m a slow learner,” Caine said with a laugh.

“You and me both, my friend,” Kaduska said, clapping him on the shoulder and heading back outside. “That is why she likes us.”

“She likes me?” Caine said, surprised.

“Oh yes. She just does not like your work. She was thrilled to learn you have left that place,” Kaduska nodded, picking up the next crate the boys had left by the door.

“Wait, didn’t she used to work… I mean, Will said… Never mind,” Caine floundered.

“Yes, she did. That is why she does not like brothels,” Kaduska explained.

“Gotcha,’ Caine said. “Guess that makes sense. Mary’s is one of the better ones, and it’s still not that great.”

“It will get worse now, without you,” Kaduska said sadly.

“I know,” Caine said bitterly. 

Once the last of the boxes were unloaded, Kaduska ushered his sons over. He counted coins out into the older one’s hand. “Go get breakfast for seven, and return.”

“And ale,” Caine said, adding a few coins of his own to the stack.

“So early?” Kaduska asked as they headed inside.

“It’s just liquid bread. It’s good for you,” Caine said as he shut and locked the door behind them.

Kaduska looked around at the disarray inside the lighthouse, shaking his head in disapproval. “William needs a wife.”

Caine snorted. “Like any woman would put up with Will for that long.”

“I had hopes for him and Miss Jaqueline,” Kaduska said, picking up a dusty trinket from one of the many shelves. “She seemed well suited to his nature.”

“I never really knew her, but I don’t know if what Will needs is a girl like him,” Caine said.

“A fair point,” Kaduska agreed. “Who else could live in a place like this though?”

“Well, we’re about to have a go at it,” Caine sighed. “At least for a while.”

Gentle footsteps came down the stairs. “All of it,” Samara’s lilting voice said as she came around the corner of the bookcase in front of the stairs.

Janie came into the room behind her. “Will would never-”

“William is not here,” Samara said tersely. “He left you with a collapsing silo full of moldy books and unwashed clothes.”

“He didn’t mean to leave me,” Janie protested.

“Regardless,” Samara shook her head. The small metal beads at the bottom of her veil jingled faintly like tiny bells. “You are here, and you cannot live like this.”

“We were going to clean up,” Janie assured her.

“There is no amount of cleaning that will save this place,” Samara said with a scoff. “Wet books. Wet shelves. There is no food, and even if there was, there is no stove. Every last inch of this place is covered with things that belong in a museum, not a home.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think it was meant to be a home,” Janie said. Her protests were weak, and she knew it. Everything Samara was saying were thoughts she’d had herself.

“There are scorch marks on the wet stone floor,” Samara pointed. “How does that even happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Janie sighed.

“I do not care,” Samara shook her head again. “We have a warehouse at the edge of the docks. It has more than enough space to store all this… junk. We will pull everything down, clean it, dry it, box it, and make this a place where the three of you can be comfortable. If William comes back and wants to return things to the way they are now, he can. Until then, there is no reason for you to have to live as he does.”

Janie took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. Yes. Thank you.”

_____________

“You alright?” Will asked.

“Fine,” Jack said. “I’m still shaking off the fatigue, but the longer we walk the better I feel.”

They were two hours into the jungle, trying to keep the ocean distantly visible through the trees. It was a way to stay close to shore, not get lost, and make sure they could return the same way they left. The further they’d gotten from the saltwater lagoon where the Kestrel was beached, the thicker the jungle became. Sandy dirt and scattered trees had become soft, dark loam and tangles of thick roots. Large ground plants with wide fronds soaked up the sun that filtered through the canopy and blocked their sightlines in nearly every direction. 

“More sleep would have been nice,” Will said wryly. He added another trail marker to a tree trunk, finishing off the marking stick he’d been using. “I blame Bella.”

“Sleep loss is a rather common thing around her,” Jack agreed. “Generally worth it though.” She pulled out another marking stick and tossed it to him. They’d made them before leaving, rolling a mixture of tar, grease, and paint into paper tubes. The stains they left would fade eventually, but they both hoped to be long gone before then.

“All that for a card reading that told us nothing,” Will shrugged. He pointed to a high spot on a ridge a short distance away that looked like it would give them a good view of their surroundings.

“Not nothing,” Jack corrected. “It told us that nothing catastrophic lies ahead. When going into an unknown jungle, that’s excellent peace of mind.” As she spoke, she started up the slope, scanning for the best way up and hacking away the foliage in their way.

“Good point,” Will said, as he followed her. “I still want to know what that last card was about.”

“She said it didn’t mean what it seemed,” Jack shrugged. “Honestly, she was pretty happy about it.”

“Were you? Tell me a chill didn’t run up your spine when she flipped over Death.”

Jack’s changed direction, carving a switchback up the slope. “I admit, it didn’t exactly feel like a good omen.”

“How did she put it? Something was going to end, and something else was going to begin.” Will ran his hands through his hair and readjusted his hat while he waited for Jack to clear a bit more of the trail. “Something is going to fundamentally change. No going back to the way things were before.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Jack asked. “Things haven’t been good for a long time. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“When did you become an optimist?” Will asked, putting a hand on her shoulder from behind, and pointing past her to a spot ahead, where a thick root protruded a few inches above the ground. A piece of it had collapsed into itself as it had rotted away from the inside. Termites swarmed in and out of the hole. There was no telling how big the termite nest was, or what part of the ground might collapse if they stepped in the wrong place. On an incline like this, pitfalls were particularly dangerous. They needed to change course.

“Around the time I gave up on wishes, and started focusing on what was actually in front of me rather than what was over the next horizon.” Jack scanned the ground near them and spotted a water trail that ran down the slope. Termites tended to avoid crossing running water, so the odds were that the ground on the other side of a small stream wouldn’t be as infested. “Give me a knee.”

“Hardly the creed of an explorer,” Will teased as he tested the ground near the slick water trail and knelt down.

“Explorers never get what they want,” Jack said as she stepped onto his thigh and threw herself into a leap that carried her well past slick water trail. Where she landed was solid enough, but mulched and wet. Her boots sank a few inches. She pulled herself free, stepped slightly uphill, and held out her hand. “The finding is never as satisfying as the searching.”

Will took off the large pack he wore and tossed it to her. She planted it next to her and held her hand out again. He took a few steps back, then ran forward and jumped. His hand met Jack’s and she gave him a strong pull. Her assist was enough to get him to land where she had. His boots squelched right into her footprints. He sank deeper than she had and made a face as mud flowed into his bootlaces. Jack smirked at his misfortune but braced him as he pulled himself free. They started up the incline again.

“You used to say it was about leaving a legacy,” Will said. “You wanted your name on plaques and books.”

“I used to want a whole museum named after me,” Jack admitted. “I guess I still wouldn’t mind if that happened. I’m just not driven by what I will leave behind anymore.”

“Then what are we doing?’ Will asked as he pulled a dead branch out of their path and tossed it down the hill behind them. “What’s the point of this whole expedition?” 

Jack gave him a sidelong look. “To enjoy the search.”

Will laughed. “So you went from being an explorer to a philosopher?”

“Hardly.” Jack shook her head. “Quinn is the philosopher. I admit, he’s rubbed off on me a bit, but half the time I still have no idea what he’s saying.”

Will scoffed. “Not surprising. He never talks.”

“He talks to me,” Jack said.

“Where is he anyway?” Will asked. “I thought he was your bodyguard?”

“He’s not a survivalist,” Jack said. “He can be sneaky when he needs to, but he doesn’t know anything about tracking, spotting terrain hazards, or any of the other tricks that would make him helpful out here. He’d insist on going first, and would have stepped right into that termite hole we just passed.”

Will chuckled. “Now I kinda wish he was here. Watching Quinn fight a million termites sounds fun.”

“I know you don’t like him,” Jack said, pursing her lips and trying not to laugh. “He doesn’t deserve that though.”

“Why do you think I don’t like him?” Will asked.

“It just seems like you don’t,” Jack said with another shrug. “You’re the old lover. He’s the new one. There’s always animosity in those situations, especially with men. You might be quiet about it, but it’s clear the two of you aren’t friends.”

Will stopped as they reached the upward edge of the slope they’d been climbing. The other side dropped off even more steeply, down into a valley thick with foliage. It went lower than they had expected, forming a bowl full of greenery so thick they couldn’t see the ground. “Damn,” he sighed.

They scanned the sightlines left and right, looking for a path along the ridge.“Jack, I don’t have any issue with Quinn,” Will said. “Honestly, I rather like him. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does he’s straightforward and says important things. He kind of reminds me of Caine that way.”

Jack snorted derisively, then pointed right. They headed single file along the lip of the bowl. “Quinn is not a brawling drunkard.”

“The only reason you don’t like him is because he told you off after I made it home,” Will said from behind her. “And you absolutely deserved it.”

“I still think he turned Bella against me,” Jack said bitterly. A tree as wide as Will’s shoulders blocked their path. The valley side was too steep to traverse. The slope they’d just come up was less steep, but thick with fronds. Jack hacked them back as far as she could reach, then put her machete away and drew her hatchet. She drove the spiked back end into the tree with a heavy thud, stepped in close, and held the hatchet like a handle. She looked over her shoulder and offered her other hand to Will.

He dropped his pack behind her, took her hand and lunged past her into a leap that swung him around the tree trunk. He plunged through the fronds in a cloud of pollen and landed on the other side, holding the tree trunk in a bear hug. He sputtered, spitting the pollen he’d inhaled, and held out his hand where Jack could see it from her side. 

She swung his pack into his hand and waited while he put it on again. Then, when his hand appeared a second time she lunged and jumped the same way he did. She was lighter and Will was stronger, so their efforts carried her past the tree, and past him. As she jumped past him, he turned and steadied her like they were dancing. She landed in front of him with their right hands clasped together in front of their chests and his left hand on her hip. “You might want to talk to Bella about that again.”

“I hadn’t thought about that in a long time,’ Jack said with a sad smile. “I guess it’s still a sore subject.” She thanked him for the help with a pat on the chest and turned to push on along the ridgeline.

“Seems to be a lot of that coming up lately,” Will said, sounding more thoughtful than upset.

“It’s understandable under the circumstances. Did you want to talk about it more?” Jack asked.

“Well, of course,” Will said. “ I still have a lot of questions. I’m just not sure what’s left to say. You asked me not to pry into it, so I’m not. There aren’t a lot of directions that conversation can go now.”

“That’s true,” Jack said, sounding resigned. 

“Why don’t you tell me your side of things, after you got back without me,” Will said, trying not to sound bitter. “You had about a year when nobody knew what… had happened.

“What I’d done,” Jack corrected. 

“Yeah,” Will sighed. “I guess I still just want to know if it was worth it.”

“I told you it was,” Jack sighed. “It still is.”

“Because of Bella,” Will finished. “Because she’s alive.”

“Yes,” Jack said after a moment. “I knew I was on borrowed time. I’d have to face the consequences eventually. At the time, I honestly didn’t expect them to be so severe, but that was obviously hubris on my part. It was a good year. I missed you, but I knew you were alright. I actually thought you’d be back a lot sooner.”

“Getting back was a string of the worst luck I’ve ever had. I almost died a dozen times,” Will said, not quite managing to avoid sounding accusatory. 

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Jack said. “I never thought you were dead like everyone else did. Bella didn’t either, which made it easier.”

“How did you convince her of that?” Will asked.

“She didn’t need convincing,” Jack said, stopping to scan the tree line, trying to catch a glimpse of water to make sure they hadn’t lost the shoreline. “She did a bunch of card readings and was convinced you were still out there somewhere. I just didn’t tell her that I knew she was right.”

Will adjusted his pack while he waited for Jack to find the trail. “I still don’t understand how you knew. If I had died on the way back, you wouldn’t have known.”

Jack shook her head with a small laugh. “No, I wouldn’t have known. I just knew that wouldn’t happen.”

“How?” Will asked incredulously.

“Your curse,” Jack said. “At the time, I was fairly sure it wouldn’t let you die.”

“Why the hell not?” Will asked, a bit heated.

“Because I knew you didn’t want to,” Jack said plainly. “You had too much to live for.”

Will snorted. “Yeah. Revenge, mostly. Against you.”

“Exactly. So I knew you weren’t dead,” she said with a glance over her shoulder and a teasing smile. They rounded the curve of the ridge that circled the valley below and finally had a view down the far side. The slope was much more gentle. A game trail made the path down obvious. “I honestly wasn’t sure you could die anymore, until Barcola.”

“You’re going to have to explain that a bit more,” Will said, waiting for Jack to cut some foliage away.

Jack started carefully down the slope. “Remember how we talked about how your curse gives you what you want? Regardless of consequences or even understanding on your part?”

“Monkey with a gun, yeah,” Will nodded.

“I didn’t think you could die because it never occurred to me that you might want to,” Jack said.

Will’s brows rose. “Huh. No wonder you were so shook up over that.”

“I never wanted any of this, Will,” Jack sighed. “I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing, and I was willing to accept the consequences, but I thought they would be my consequences. It took me a while to figure out how badly I’d miscalculated. Now I just… want to try to fix things.”

“Is that what this expedition is really about?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Jack said. “So far, it feels like we are on the right course.”

“I’ve heard that from you before. It didn’t end up so well for me,” Will said dryly.

Jack started to slip and Will caught her hand before either of them realized what was happening. As she steadied her feet their eyes met. Her eyes were red and her face was streaked. At some point, she’d started crying, but her voice hadn’t given her away at all. A knot formed in Will’s chest.

“Thanks,” she said, then turned around again, continuing down the slope.

“Jack,” Will said, not sure what he was going to say.

“It’s just the pollen,” she said firmly.

It wasn’t. He knew that, but he decided not to press the issue. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” Jack said.

“Why would I?” Will asked. “You decided I was worth sacrificing so you could go home with the treasure we’d set out to find together. How do I know you won’t do that again? Or that do it to someone else?”

“I guess you don’t,” Jack said. “I still think you’d have done the same thing in my place.”

“Never,” Will shook his head.

“Don’t say that,” Jack said quietly.

“Why not?” Will asked.

“If you had to leave me behind to save the life of someone you loved, I hope that you would,” Jack said. “I hope that you never have to, but if you did, I hope that you’d trust me enough to survive and come back to you on my own.”

Will’s heart sank as he thought of Janie. It wasn’t a perfect parallel, but there were enough similarities that it gave him pause. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that.”

“I wish I’d been able to tell you more at the time,” Jack said. “That’s my biggest regret.”

Will exhaled long. “Yeah, that would have been nice.”

Jack reached the bottom of the decline and leaned against a tree for a quick rest. Will dropped his pack and rolled his shoulders. 

“Someday, hopefully,” Jack said with a wry smile.

“I’m still curious,’ Will admitted. “Seems like fairy tale nonsense to me, with all this stuff about curses and promises, and circular arguments you’re not allowed to explain.”

“Remember how I told you not to think about it too much?” Jack asked.

“Because I might figure it out?” Will teased. “Am I getting close?”

“I’m not telling you anything. Stop it,” Jack rolled her eyes. 

“So I’m cursed, and so are you I guess? And we are bound together forever because you made a deal with the wrong fairy to save a witch’s life,” Will said.

“It does all sound overly dramatic when you put it that way,” Jack said.

“I’m nowhere close, am I?” Will asked.

“Oh, on the contrary. You’re spot on. This whole expedition is to find Gates of Dawn. We need to fight our way through the Labyrinth of Mists, and petition the Summer Queen to break the spell,” Jack said with wide, innocent eyes.

“That is far too specific,” Will snarked.

Jack pushed herself off the tree she’d been leaning on and started to look around. “I didn’t even mention the two giants we have to fight in the labyrinth, or what the queen will demand in trade.”

Will picked up the pack again with a groan of protest. “Is this from a book? A kid’s story?”

Jack laughed. “Yes. My father read it to me. It was one of my favorites.” She moved a bit further into the brush to a thick tangle of fronds and kudzu, looking for a spot to hack through so they could keep going, but stopped and went completely still. Will settled the pack and followed her, but froze as soon as she stopped moving. She turned and looked at him quizzically. 

“I swear I just heard music,” Jack said.

Will listened. Sure enough, past the distant rush of the ocean and birdsong in the canopy, he could faintly make out a jaunty-sounding tune.

“I guess this place isn’t as empty as we thought.”