“His mind hasn’t sharpened much since then,” Felicity grumbles.
“How old is he now?” Monty asks.
“Five and ten years,” Sim replies.
“Good Lord, and he’s overseeing the whole fleet?” Monty grimaces. “I thought the fleet would be yours when your father died. Or at least go to a brother who wasn’t the youngest of your pack.”
Felicity hops off the table suddenly and starts collecting the empty cups. “Would you like more tea? Sim? Adrian, have you eaten today? I left you a tray last night.” She hardly glances at the kettle before she says, “I’ve got to run to the pump, back in a tick.”
As Felicity snags the kettle and charges through the surgery like she’s fleeing a burning house, Sim says simply, “My father changed his mind.” She looks between us, and I can only hold her gaze for a moment before my skin starts to itch. I look down. “I wanted to warn you,” she says. “I don’t know why Saad is giving you the Eleftheria back so easily, but I suspect he has some self-interest wrapped up in it.”
“You think we should find alternate routes away from here?” Monty asks.
“No,” Sim says carefully, “because I trust George. But if my brother suddenly arrives to add a clause to his generosity, don’t be surprised. And don’t fall for it.”
“Maybe he’s all right,” I say, trying to sound more hopeful than I feel. “He just wants to be rid of us.”
Sim doesn’t reply. She twists a fraying edge of her headscarf, then says, “It wasn’t by chance that we found your wreck. That’s all I can say.”
By the time Felicity returns with the kettle full, Sim has her coat on. She claims she’s needed back at the dock to meet the carpenter, though I have a sense she wants to leave before any plans are made to trick her brother or make an escape. She trades a kiss on the cheek with both Monty and Felicity, then turns to me and instead offers her hand. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” she says. “Or slighted. If this is too formal—”
“I don’t,” I say, grateful for someone who asks before grabbing me and pulling me to them for a hug or kiss or some exchange of sweat or saliva like so many members of the peerage do in England. I take her hand, and she smiles.
“Be ready to depart by the week’s end. Your heading will be England, but I’ll let you and George discuss the particulars of the route once you’re at sea. So long as he’s back in Rabat by the summer, it will go unnoticed.”
When she’s gone, Felicity finishes out the charade of making tea, though none of us drinks what she pours. She then wipes her hands on her apron, staring around the kitchen like she’s looking for something to do. “Well,” she says at last. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in Portugal.”
“You know we aren’t going without you,” Monty says.
“I’m not certain you have a choice.” Felicity smiles weakly. “Or the authority to back that impassioned statement.”
“Saad is going to kill you once we leave.”
Felicity scoffs. “Sim won’t let him.”
“She didn’t stop him before,” Monty mutters, fiddling with his hair and frowning.
“Obviously she did,” Felicity replies hotly. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“If we’re taking the Eleftheria,” I say to her, “the Dey is going its own way. All we have to do is get you on our ship and out to sea before Saad notices you’re gone.”
“George will help,” Monty adds. “You know he will. And Saad won’t care enough to follow you.”
“He cares a great deal about appearances,” Felicity grumbles.
“And you will appear to have vanished from Crown and Cleaver territory,” Monty says. “That’s what will matter. I don’t think it makes a difference to him if you’re dead on an island or dead in Portugal.”
“But you’ll not be dead anywhere,” I add hastily. “Because you’ll be with us.”
Felicity presses a hand against her mouth, considering this as she absently chews on the skin of her knuckles. She looks tired. I didn’t notice it before, and I suddenly feel like I should apologize for crashing into her home without warning and taking up more than our fair share of her time and space. I bite back the urge, for I know Monty will scold me if I do, but I have now upended both their lives like overturned tables. Surely that warrants some kind of penance.
“You’re leaving this island one way or another, sister,” Monty adds when Felicity says nothing. “I suggest you do your best not to do so in a coffin.”
“Don’t be dramatic. They wouldn’t waste the wood on me.” Felicity sinks down on the chair Sim vacated, then stands up just as quick, twisting around to peer curiously at the seat before retrieving a set of keys from the cushion. “Are these yours?” she asks, holding them up, and Monty and I both shake our heads. “Sim must have left them. Let me see if I can catch her.”
“I’ll go,” I say. Felicity hands me the ring gingerly. Each of the half dozen keys strung on it looks like it could double as a weapon, with jagged teeth and razor rust. I don’t dare put them in my pocket as I jog through the house and out into the yard.
Sim is nearly to the gate, but when I call her she turns. Clouds have shifted over the sun, turning the sky periwinkle and peach, like there’s a fire burning on the horizon.
I hold out the keys. “You left these.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did; they were on your chair. They’re your keys.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Really? Felicity said—”
“Adrian.” She takes a sudden step toward me, then scans the yard quickly for any sign of Saad’s men before she says in a low voice, “We were docked in Casablanca with no departure date when a message came from Basira Khan. I don’t know what it said, but suddenly Saad wanted to be off. He didn’t tell me our heading, but I suspect he was following your ship. He’d been planning to chase you down, but instead we stumbled on your wreck.” I’m not sure why she’s telling me this until she adds, “What did you give him in exchange for passage here?”
I press my free hand into a fist, cracking my thumb against my palm. “Nothing. Money.”
Sim’s eyes narrow. “They must be very precious coins, for he’s keeping them locked in the curio cabinet in his cabin.” She glances meaningfully at the keys I’m still holding out to her. “Keep my brother out of this, please.”
“I’m not trying to get him into anything. He’s the one who followed us.”
“He’s out of his depth and I don’t want him to make any more of an ass of himself than he already has. My father spent the last years of his life convinced that there was some supernatural force conspiring against our fleet. Saad doesn’t need the same curse.”
“What did he think was happening to your fleet?” I ask.
Sim sighs, her lips tight. “He was an old man. He didn’t have much sense left. So natural occurrences like the currents changing and the wildlife disappearing seemed like signs to him.”