𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

───── WHEN ENIYA RETURNED TO HER ROOM, the first thing she did was make sure that her duffel bags had not been tampered with.

She counted her Berry and her knives. As an afterthought, she made sure that she had all her clothes. The outfit she had worn earlier was laid out on the bed, cleaned, and ironed, and she jumped at the chance to shuck off the ill-fitting suit and redress in her own clothes.

Working on pure muscle memory, Eniya went through her nightly routine. She removed two small knives from her belt. One would go under her pillow, and the other gets tucked away under her sleeve. She wrapped her knives within her jacket, haphazardly folding them so they looked harmless enough, and placed them back in her bag, beneath the rest of her clothes.

Then, as if waiting for someone to jump out from underneath it, she approached the bed. She pulled back only the top blanket and tucked a knife under one pillow out of the many on the bed. With the other still in hand, she leaned back into the unreasonably soft bed, staring aimlessly at the canopy above.

If she had been back on the trawler, or even—she loathed to admit this—back in the big top, she likely would have fallen asleep. Sated with food, weary from a full day of conversations, and well-bathed for the first time in weeks? Just one week ago, she wouldn't have been able to keep herself awake if she tried.

But, in the moment, she felt deeply uncomfortable. The walls felt too close, and the bed was too soft. Was it her imagination that the floorboards just beyond her door were creaking, or was someone sneaking about?

She didn't know.

She didn't know why a maid would use Marine time, why a chef could throw a knife so cleanly, or why Klahadore was so insistent on getting them out of the house. She didn't know why the three treated Kaya with such subtle animosity.

Eniya hated not knowing.

It was, perhaps, her worst trait. Eniya wished she could blame this on years with pirates, too, but no—her nosiness was hers. No matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, that nagging feeling urged her to trapeze around the house, late hour be damned.

Who would catch me? She thought, immediately followed by, No one would, but it's rude.

It was rude at best and an infringement on Kaya's privacy at worst. Eniya tried to remind herself. Just because she didn't like how Klahadore treated Kaya didn't mean he had any ill will against her.

Eniya rolled on her side and repeated it every time she caught herself moving to stand. She reminded herself over and over that she didn't know the dynamics between Kaya and Klahadore, so she couldn't say what was or wasn't strange.

It worked until she remembered how he blatantly ignored Kaya until it came to treating her in a way that embarrassed her. Then, her curiosity and spite won against manners, which she decided she'd blame Buggy for anyway. What good was spending your formative years tormented by a maniac in face paint if you couldn't pin your worst behaviors on him?