VILLAIN

Chapter 16

 "This is what you consider a modest ship?" I asked incredulously, glancing around in awe. Then, remembering my character, I added, "I could conjure something better than this with a snap of my fingers."

Prince Oscar shrugged, not offended in the slightest. "It was the best I could arrange for on such short notice – without word of it coming to Father, of course."

He completely missed my subtle sarcasm, which I supposed was for the better as far as Max's and my story went. In actuality, the ship was far more grand than any ship calling itself modest had a right to be. The ship was made primarily out of a deep mahogany wood, and a large, wooden fairy was carved into the bowsprit. A singular mast suspended a massive, rectangular canvas sail, and a thin Seacrest flag billowed from atop it. I wasn't very familiar with ship terms – since I'd never actually been on any aside from Blackbeard's – but I was fairly certain that we were currently standing on what sailors would've considered the poop deck.

I had never fully understood sailing terms, because most of them seemed to be nothing more than a made-up code that was purposefully odd, so that only experienced sailors could decipher it. Nevertheless, I watched in fascination as Oscar and a pair of other sailors I didn't know began readying the ship for our departure, untying it from the dock and giving it a solid push before hopping on board. The prince headed for the bow, taking hold of the ship's wheel and looking to be quite in his element as he steered us away from the shore and towards the open sea. Every once in a while, he would shout some strange sailing command at Max and the sailors, and I'd be tugged along after him as he went to complete it. It was rather annoying to constantly have to follow him around, and I suddenly had a new appreciation for horses and dogs. It became worse when we had gotten a little farther out to sea, and the wind whipped my hair around my face in a most haphazard manner, obscuring my vision and preventing me from opening my mouth – lest I wanted a mouthful of my own hair. What with my hands tied behind my back, I could hardly fix it myself, and was forced to remain facing into the wind – which was made difficult by the fact that I also had to trail around after Max the whole time.

By the time Oscar announced that we were weighing anchor, I was thoroughly tangled in my own hair, and I had a hunch that one could scarcely tell the front of my head from the back of it. I couldn't see her, but something told me that Tinkerbell had noticed my struggle and had a good laugh about it – then quite rudely neglected to help me. I took comfort in the fact that every time she laughed, she lost her hard-earned money.

"Wow," laughed Max from somewhere vaguely nearby. "That's really quite impressive."
"Shut up," I snapped, but only succeeded in making a muffled noise and inhaling a wad of hair in the process. I shook my head in a fruitless effort to untangle myself, but the movement seemed only to make it worse.

I groaned, and even without any vision I could see as clear as day the mocking smirk on Max's face. Oh, how I wished my arms were free so I could strangle the laughs right out of him.

"Don't just stare at me! Help me, you idiot!" I demanded. Although, thanks to the giant glob of hair in my mouth, it came out more like, "Dub you dust dare a me! Hemme you ibio!"

More jeering chuckles met my ears, and Max leaned in toward the mess of hair that was currently my face.

"Sorry," he said, his tone suggesting that he really wasn't sorry at all. "Didn't catch that?"

I moaned, contemplating just how much trouble I'd be in if I randomly jerked forward and headbutted him in the face. Perhaps I could call it an accident? Some things were just unavoidable, after all. Unfortunately, I did sort of need him conscious in order not to be hauled away and strung to a noose, so I begrudgingly resisted. Stupid logic.