Alina sat down on her chaise, plopping her boots up on the other arm as she leaned back. In her hands was her father's journal. Her parents had left something for her, an inheritance that would save them and the ship they loved so much.
She ran her hand over the dark blue dyed leather and the jewels that were embedded in the surface. The ruby, at her slightest touch, fell out of its place at the bottom of the Southern Cross.
Alina swiftly caught it before it could hit the floor.
"Good catch."
Alina glanced to the side. Nikolai was at his desk, cleaning his revolvers, swords, and daggers.
"Thanks." She surveyed the variety of weapons on the desk. "It's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, that's more than you can actually wield—"
"That may be true, Starkov, but you never know when a member of your crew might need a weapon, or when you run out of bullets and don't have time to reload." He twisted the cloth around the barrel of one of the revolvers, then winked at her.
Alina remembered the long dagger that was now hers, and stuck out of her coat pocket from where it now was draped over her chaise with her dressing gown.
"I suppose I should be grateful that you were carrying so many blades then," Alina admitted. "Even if I didn't get to use it."
"Probably wouldn't have made much of a difference against the Darkling, anyway." Nikolai paused—his expression was uncharacteristically serious. "Lucky thing the Lady of the Water blessed you, then. Otherwise, I'd be in the Dutchman. Not that there's really anyone left who would care—"
"Nonsense." Alina raised an eyebrow. "I see the way the crew looks at you—they'd miss you."
"Yes, well—"
"And I'd miss you." Alina's cheeks turned warm at her own boldness.
Her short time on the high seas was certainly having an effect on her. The young woman who had survived by being small and quiet and dainty in the Governor's mansion would never have done these things.
It was as if that girl was just a pretty dress, and she had been cast aside for the real woman hidden beneath, a woman of sharp wit and courage and the ability to care for others besides herself.
"Would you now?" Nikolai arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I thought I was a bad dream."
"One I can't wake up from, apparently," Alina grumbled as she returned her attention to the book. She heard Nikolai chucked as she took in her father's notes.
Despite those missing memories, his very handwriting was nostalgic, familiar to her as the Volkvolny had become.
The notes were very similar to Nikolai's notebook, Alina realized. Inside were lots of dissections and notes and maps—but none had a concrete answer for where to go for the Trident or Rusalye, the Ice Dragon.
All of the pages were filled, except for two towards the end, forming a spread of sorts. On the very last page read a short line: The Southern Cross will guide you —D. Starkov.
The handwriting was different from before. Within a beat, Alina realized that both of her parents would be D. Starkov.
So the last clue was from her mother, Captain Daiyu.
That's when she put it together—the Southern Cross was on the cover, in the form of the jewels. She held up the ruby to the sunlight coming in through the window, and flipped back to the empty spread.
Thin red lines appeared through the ray of light cast by the ruby.
Alina sat up. "Nikolai—you're tall, I need your help!"
He frowned as he sheathed one of his many swords. "What does my height have to do with anything, Starkov?"
"I need you to stand over me and try to get the ruby to cast a glow over the whole page." Alina stood and placed the journal on his desk. "You have a pen and a scrap of parchment, don't you?"
"Yes, absolutely!" Nikolai scrambled to grab the parchment and pen, and he hurried to hold the ruby over Alina's head.
She worked quickly, copying her father's map as it appeared. It was similar to the one that was marred on Nikolai's desk, but with less of the fantastic drawings and more strange locations.
To the north, closer to the latitudes of the Wandering Isles, Fjerda, and Ravka, was an ice palace—there, a bit of handwriting notes, was where Rusalye had allegedly taken the Trident of Poseidon.
To the west, to the farthest edge, that was the place marked as World's End.
After several minutes, Alina had created a perfect copy, and she brandished it for Nikolai.
"You did it!" He clapped her on the shoulder. "We'll need to sail north, then."
He paused. "I'll tell Genya and Zoya. And then on our way to World's End, we can stop on Skullduggery to rally the rest of the Court of Piracy."
"Skullduggery Island is real, then, too?" Alina asked.
"Best port for pirates and the tavern has the best rum in the New World." Nikolai winked. "It's just too bad you'll be the only one to taste it."
"Well, if we win the day, you will, too." Alina closed the book and took the ruby from him. "And then the Pirate King can do as he pleases."
"Perhaps." He seemed thoughtful, pausing for a moment. Then he shook his head, running a hand through his golden blonde hair.
"I'd better taken this to Genya and Zoya, so they can get us on the right path."
With that, he left, leaving Alina wondering why her pulse raced so.