So, where are we headed, Captain Veneficii?" Einar asked, almost excitedly. He looked at her as though she were a child playing at something, and while she felt a little like that herself, she did not appreciate his gaze one bit.

"We're going to Brimsjá. I'm taking you home," she replied sweetly.

For a moment, hope sparkled in his eyes, ready to be mercilessly crushed.

"I just have a few stops to make along the way. I imagine there are towns and cities eager to ensure Brimsjá never gains control of a Pyroraptor again." She flashed a proud grin. "With me, the one who defeated the beast and your army, and you, the prince of Brimsjá, as my captive, convincing them shouldn't be hard."

Einar chuckled. "So, if I understand correctly, I'll soon have the pleasure of addressing Queen Veneficii. I must admit, that title suits you better than Captain Veneficii." His tone carried a mocking admiration. It was strange how clearly he was a coward, yet she couldn't seem to truly intimidate him.

"Shall I just call you Queen Veneficii?" he continued. "Because it would be embarrassing to point out that this isn't the course to Brimsjá, your highness."

"Severa!" she snapped irritably, biting her lip in frustration. Her hands itched to strike him, but she knew that what he had just said was likely not only an insult but also the truth.

Her eyes scanned the horizon. She genuinely had no idea where she was; no land was in sight. She was surrounded by nothing but water.

"Oh, wow, I can't believe I get to call you by your first name already," he said with a smug laugh.

Severa glared daggers at him, but his sharp eyes seemed to read her all too well. "Is this the part where you threaten me with your half-dull butter knife while secretly begging for navigation help?" he teased.

Severa glanced at her knife, which was admittedly unimpressive, though she knew it would suffice if it came to that.

He laughed mockingly. "Don't bother. I'll tell you anyway. I'd rather watch you try to overthrow my father than starve while aimlessly drifting at sea."

She shot him a disapproving look. "Well, well, Prince Ósköp, your father is blessed with a son who'd rather betray him than die at sea with his enemy."

The prince laughed, a hint of irritation in his tone. "My name is Einar—Prince Einar. But I'll admit, you're mistaken if you think my connection to the king is to your advantage in a fight against my kingdom. My father won't surrender the throne just to save me. Have you been secretly reading fairy tales or something?"

Severa looked away, embarrassed. This wasn't going as she had hoped. But he was still unarmed and chained to the mast, so she shouldn't show all her cards.

She growled frustrated. "So you think I'll spare your life if you prove entirely useless?" She shook her head in indignation. "Your fate is sealed, Ósköp." 

She noted the flicker of irritation on his face at hearing that nickname but was annoyed to find he still didn't seem afraid. "You will die as retribution for all the blood your kingdom has spilled," she added, trying to sound even more menacing.

To her surprise, Einar nodded thoughtfully. "That seems a good enough reason to die," he said earnestly.

Severa raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Fine, then. Tell me which way to sail toward Brimsjá's doom."

Einar smirked. "I think it's only fair my assistance comes with some kind of reward, don't you?"

Severa sighed. "What do you want? A choice in how I kill you? I'd recommend an arrow to the heart. Always hits the mark and ends things quickly."

Einar chuckled. "I already suspected you were aiming for my heart." He winked. "Steal it, break it, pierce it—I'll leave that to you. I only have a simple request. You see, I've been tied to this mast for quite some time, and I desperately need to... relieve myself."

For the first time, he seemed genuinely uncomfortable, clearly suffering under her captivity.

She smiled with satisfaction. "I'm not stopping you," she said, nodding in challenge.

"Now? Here? In my pants? I'm a prince!" he protested indignantly.

"You don't honestly think I'd untie you in exchange for directions, do you? Trusting you at all is already more than you deserve."

"B-but... it could take days to reach Brimsjá." Panic flashed across his face. "I'll die from my own stench!" His grimace of disgust was almost comical. "That wouldn't do you any favors either, would it?"

Severa ran a hand through her hair, leaning thoughtfully against the helm. No, that wouldn't do her any favors either. Without a word, she turned and walked into the captain's quarters as Einar muttered half-formed pleas behind her.

Sulkily, she trudged up the steps to the cabin. She knew exactly where this was heading. First, he had to pee; next, he'd be hungry. She'd end up caring for him like live prey she'd caught. But that effort often paid off.

Her father often caught scrawny animals in the woods. Easy to trap, but with good care, they turned into the tastiest meals of all.

Severa and her father would have fattened up everything at home if her mother hadn't been such a problem. She tended to grow attached to the creatures and set them free whenever Severa and her father were away.

She had to admit, sometimes it was hard to kill the little creatures. But the overwhelming flavor always made up for it.

Rummaging through the cabin cupboards, she thought about Einar. He was clearly arrogant and treacherous—just what she'd expected from the prince of Brimsjá. Surely, she had no reason to worry about growing attached to him while taking care of him.

Still, memories of his singing, flattering remarks, and those startlingly large blue eyes flitted through her mind.

She pulled out a large, shiny bowl from a cabinet; its coppery surface reflected her face. A small smile flickered on her lips, accompanied by a glimmer in her eyes she'd never seen before—not in herself and not in others. Maybe... She thought briefly of her mother. The sparkle disappeared instantly, replaced by a heavy weight in her stomach. She broke her gaze and carried the bowl outside.

Standing expectantly before him, she held the bowl tightly in her hands. "So, which way are we headed?" she asked.

Einar looked at her blankly. "Are you going to untie me?"

Severa placed the bowl between his legs. "You can do it here," she said with a hint of distaste, her lip curling slightly.

Einar's gaze darted between the bowl and her, disbelief written all over his face. Studying her expression, he concluded she was completely serious.

Annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, he tried to prop himself against the mast while awkwardly attempting to lower his undergarments.

When his eyes met hers again, she realized she should have walked away. It was utterly ridiculous to wait here for him to free himself from his clothes.

Instead of snapping at her to look away and grant him privacy, his gaze silently pleaded for her assistance. Before he could even speak, Severa knew she'd have preferred an outburst.

"Could you give me a hand?" he stammered awkwardly.

Severa paled and stepped back reflexively. "Absolutely not!" she protested.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted in desperation. "Do you want to get to Brimsjá or not?"

With a sigh, Severa approached him. Closing her eyes, she blindly reached out and yanked his underpants down before quickly spinning away to face the helm. She knew she stood on the wrong side of it but had no intention of turning back to face him.

"Which way?" she growled, as she heard a sigh of relief and the faint clinking of liquid hitting the bowl.

"Starboard," he replied curtly. Severa had no idea which direction that was, so she gave the wheel a random spin, causing the ship to veer.

"That's port," he snapped, and she turned the wheel the other way.

"Okay, stop. Straight ahead. And can you pull my pants up again?" he asked, pushing the bowl aside with his feet.

"No, our deal is done," she hissed, keeping her eyes on the horizon, praying land would appear at any moment. But how likely was that? They had probably drifted far from the coast, and she wasn't even sure Einar was guiding her the right way.

"The wind could still push us off course. The deal isn't over until we reach Brimsjá," he said, his tone implying control, which irked Severa immensely.

She cursed under her breath, gripping the helm in frustration.

"Never mind. I know you'd rather stare at my noble parts all day," Einar teased with a chuckle.

Severa cursed in irritation, spinning around and stomping over to the mast. Positioning herself behind it, she yanked up his dangling underwear without a word.