the rest of the city sleeps. You can tell it’s for the more unsavory sort, because
it’s so very loud. Music pours out the windows onto the streets. Gunshots sound.
Men and women laugh. Tables overturn. The streets are filled with the light of
lanterns.
Any crime at all can be committed here, and the law of the land cannot touch
us. It’s part of the deal my father has with the land monarch. The pirates get a district on land, free from the burdens of the law, and my father won’t blow excavating ships out of the water.
I know instantly when I’m in the right place. There’s a tavern on one side of
the street, a whorehouse on the other. This is where most pirates go to spend all their spoils. They are men of simple pleasures. I, too, enjoy a good flask of rum from time to time, but I also take pleasure in longer-lasting rewards. I spend my earnings on good clothing and face paint. Appearance is important. I pay for information on big players on different islands. I enjoy meeting new people and
learning their stories. The really interesting ones become members of my crew.
But ultimately I always seek to win my father’s approval, to solidify myself as
his heir and become the queen of sea thieves. I can’t imagine anything more fun
than humbling stuffy land nobles as they cross the ocean. My ocean.
I approach the tavern first, since the men at the whorehouse are far less likely
to notice me while engaged in their activities. Now, how to get caught without
making it too obvious?
I go around to the side of the tavern and peer through a grime-covered window. It’s packed, and I can see several members of Draxen’s crew. They sit
at tables, drinking and gambling and talking. I note that Draxen himself is not here. He’s probably over at the whorehouse. Riden must be over there, too—
Wait, Riden’s in here.
I spot him in the back, at a table with a bunch of men. He has one hand full of
cards, while the other is draped around some woman seated on his lap.
A snort escapes me. And he said he didn’t pay for female companionship.
Although—I squint, getting closer to the window without actually touching it.
She’s not dressed like a whore. Her face isn’t extravagantly painted—
The tavern doors groan as they open wide. Stars, I should have been paying attention to the door.
A body comes walking around to the side of the tavern where I stand. After a
few moments, I recognize it as Kearan.
Perhaps walking had been too generous of a term. Stumbling’s more like it.
The big oaf zigzags right past me. Then he stops, bracing himself against the wall.
Time to act.
I pinch my cheeks to bring red to them. I flick my head downward, rumpling
my hair. Adding a slight tremor to my whole person, I rush forward, leaning against the wall right next to him.
“Kearan. You have to help me. Please. Help me get away from here.”
He turns his head slightly in my direction but says nothing.
“Please,” I say again. “I know deep down you’re not a bad man. Please get me out of here.”
My intention is for him to assume I misplaced my trust. He’s supposed to haul me back to the ship.
Instead he vomits and collapses to the ground.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
That’s when I’m grabbed from behind. Oh, excellent! I was worried I’d have
to—
I feel hot breath at my ear. It smells of rum. The chest at my back rises and
falls rapidly. Then my hair stands on end as a wet tongue starts at the corner of my chin and rises up my cheek.
Stars, it’s Sheck.
Why does he have to be the one to catch me?
He’s got both arms around me, holding my own arms flat against my sides. I
wait for him to turn me around, to carry me over to Riden or Draxen. But he does no such thing.
He shoves me against the wall of the tavern. I feel a hand at my lower back,
dipping lower.
Sheck has no intention of taking me back to Riden—not right away, at least.
And I have no intention of waiting around until he’s ready.
“You’re going to want to let go of me now,” I say, giving him a chance to walk away, even though he doesn’t deserve one.
He doesn’t speak. And why should he? He’s more beast than man.
I hop into the air and press my feet flat against the wall, giving it a good push.
Sheck tries to catch himself. But his choices are to let go of me or fall on his arse.
Surprisingly, he chooses the second.
My body is not enough weight to knock the breath from him, but I’m sure the