Honor Among Thieves || Book Two

~20~

"An' just how confident are ye?"

"Quite confident." Sera retorted sharply, a salty breeze whipping her ebony hair behind her head as she faced down Hector Barbossa. "So I suggest you stop making unfounded claims about the young man."

He grunted and crossed his arms in a defensive manner. "An' what d'ye plan on doin' when he sneaks int' yer cabin at night an' puts a bullet in yer head or a dagger through yer back?"

"He can shoot me in the head and stab me as many times as he pleases. You know it won't do any good." She snapped, putting her hands on her hips. He shifted his gaze to the vast blue sea and put a hand over his hat to prevent a sudden gust of wind from carrying it off. "Then how do ye explain the Spaniard's death? Ye said yerself that--"

"Three empty bottles of ale were found in the crow's nest." She answered, glancing at what appeared to be a heated exchange between Pintel and Ragetti. "Maybe he was passed out drunk and ended up getting killed. Who knows?" She threw her arms out at her sides and let out a rueful chuckle. "It's a funny thing to me that I can hear a damn whale or dolphin getting ripped to shreds or know when something unusual happens a million miles away, but I have no bloody idea what's happening on my own damn ship!"

Jack the monkey screeched on its master's shoulder, earning a calming pat on the head. "I'll still keep an eye on Jeremy. If I see anythin', I'll--"

"Let me know." She finished, nodding slowly. "Now scram."

He climbed down the steps and started bellowing at Pintel and Ragetti, who had somehow ended up arguing about who would scrub the deck first. Sera caught sight of Jeremy and Les standing near the bow, the latter apparently demonstrating the proper footwork that went along with sword fighting.

She rolled her eyes.

There was no fancy footwork in a sword fight, there was only you and your enemy. The only "footwork" she used was whatever kept her alive at the time. No two fights were the same, she had learned, even if you fight the same person twice; they always learned your weaknesses and sought to exploit them in any way possible, and you had to be ready to avoid unexpected strikes.

There was no such thing as fairness, either. Seraphina Drake didn't believe in "fair" when it came to sword frights or battles. She believed in surviving, not that it was necessarily an issue for her, but--

"Cap'n, we've a bit of a problem."

Mange stood in front of her, wide-eyed and pale. She sighed. "What is it? Don't tell me someone else died."

"N-No." His Adam's apple bounced as he gulped. "Not someone, uh...it's more like something."

She raised her eyebrows. "What? Is it--"

"Minnie the goat." He wrung his hands. "A-Annabelle's almost got her completely swallowed."

A wave of relief washed over Sera. She had feared something had befallen her beloved Annabelle...

"Oh well." She said with a flippant wave of her hand. "A goat's a goat. Let my girl have her fun."

Mange nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. W-What are we going to do 'bout milk, though? An' what about that soap Chef makes? You said--"

"We'll manage." She uttered, looking out at the ocean. "We'll get another goat in Singapore."

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Days gradually turned to weeks and weeks to months on the Destiny as the gang inched closer and closer to Singapore.

Things ran smoothly and without incident; there were no more ambushes, no murders, and therefore nothing more to incriminate or raise suspicions about Jeremy. Sera was quite relieved, or at least, she was until she had the dream...