Page 36 of A Reckless Indulgence

“Enough,” Heathen bellows. The two of them fall into simmering silence, and after a pointed pause, Heathen turns to Cypher. “Is there a reason you’re so concerned about Lyx?”

Cypher’s fists clench. “I don’t trust her. She’s up to something.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” Cav sighs.

Cypher starts to give a nasty retort before she clamps her mouth shut. For a while, she only glares at Cav, like she’s torn between two ideas. Eventually, she reaches for the bandana around her neck. The knot is drawn tight, forcing her to pick it free before she yanks the fabric away and tilts her head back.

A black tattoo sits on her throat. It shimmers and shifts like all the others, but Cav can’t make out the ink from here. Only when Heathen moves in does he take a step closer, and his stomach turns.

On Cypher’s throat sits the Indulgence engulfed in flames. Fire eats away at the hulls and masts, burning the figureheads to ash. The sails are little more than blazing holes in the sky. The fire rages, not slowed by anything. There’s no sign of anyone alive onboard.

A cold chill crawls up Cav’s spine.

Heathen sucks in a breath. “When did that appear?”

Cypher lowers her chin. “The day she came aboard.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted to be sure.” Roughly, Cypher ties the scarf back into place. “I wanted to have evidence. I wanted to avoid this exact conversation where you’re questioning my motives.”

It’s haunting watching the Indulgence burn, but it doesn’t have to mean anything, does it? It must be a mistake. Cav’s voice is hoarse. “Your tattoos have been wrong before.”

“They aren’t wrong.” Cypher twists the bandana like it’s Cav’s neck. “A tattoo forms to show what path we’re on. What we’re headed toward. If we change course, so does the mark.”

“What does that even mean?”

Cypher’s teeth grit. “I am trying to look out for you. For all of us.”

Cav’s voice grows stronger over the thud of his heart. “When exactly did the tattoo show up? What time of day?”

Cypher rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t return them to Cav’s. “It must have been as soon as she got here. Right after I did my morning check.”

“So you don’t know for sure.” Cav’s voice is level, despite the uncertain twist in his gut. “It could have been any time that day. You don’t know that it popped up the second Lyx walked up the gangplank.”

Surely someone would have noticed, wouldn’t they? Surely Cav would have been staring straight at the image, but her tattoos are always changing. All Cav remembers about her ink that day is a vague blur.

Cypher’s fingers flex. “I can’t give an exact time,” she finally cedes, “but I know it’s from her.”

That’s all the encouragement Cav needs. “Plenty of other shit happened that day. We left port. Colt got food poisoning. I mean, shit, I came back from the Silver Spoon; you might as well kick me off the ship, too.”

The ink blot around Cypher’s eye sharpens. “Works for me.”

“Please!” Heathen hisses, fingers pressed to her temples. Slowly, Heathen inhales through their nose before they drop their hands and look pointedly at Cypher. “I want the facts. Only the facts. The tattoo appeared between your morning and evening checks the day we left the last port, correct? What else do you know about it?”

“It’s on my throat.” Cypher’s lips purse. “Over my vocal cords. Perfect place for a siren song. That’s not a coincidence.”

“It very well could be.” Heathen runs a hand through her hair. “It could be related to eating, drinking, breathing, screaming…and sometimes the placement doesn’t mean anything, right? Your tattoos take up whatever space is available?”

After a moment, Cypher’s forced to nod.

Heathen mirrors her. “Then we can’t hang anything on that.”

“But we can’t just —”

“If our focus is too narrow…” Heathen lowers their voice sternly. “We could miss a credible threat. We can’t get fixated on Lyx. We need to prepare for a fire, regardless of the cause.”

An angry flush creeps up Cypher’s neck.