window of the tavern? He told me himself that he’s spent months at sea, and I
interrupted his one night on land. Now he expects me to make up for it.
Stupid pirate. I do not get swayed by men looking to add to their list of female conquests. I’d imagine I’d be a fine one, being the daughter of the most
notorious pirate of all time.
I stand and move away from the bed. “I want to go to my cell now.”
Riden looks confused for a moment. He shakes himself out of it. “You’re not
staying in your cell anymore. Your continued attempts at escape leave me no choice but to move you.”
“To where?”
“My room.” And with that, he leaves, shutting the doors behind him. I hear the wiggling of a key and the click of a lock.
I note that he’s still on the other side of the doors. I can see his silhouette from the space underneath. I press my cheek against the door, hold my breath, and wait.
He sighs. “What are you doing?” He’s talking to himself.
Then he’s gone.
Interesting.
I turn to survey the room. I hadn’t had a chance to earlier because—well, my
mind was on other things. But now I wish I could have gotten a look at it sooner.
If for no other reason than I could have been using it to mock Riden.
Because the room is clean. Spotlessly clean. Now, as I look at the bed, I can tell it had been made. His desk is neatly arranged with an even stack of parchment. Quills lie next to it, spread apart at even intervals. He has a case of books, and—yes, they’re in alphabetical order. The rugs on the floor are free of
dust and dirt, likely beaten regularly. His boots are all polished and stacked by twos. His clothes lie flat so as not to gain any wrinkles.
It would be difficult indeed to toss this room without Riden noticing. But toss
it, I must. It’s clear Draxen trusts Riden more than he does anyone else, so why
not give the map to Riden for safekeeping? If the map wasn’t in Draxen’s room,
then Riden’s room would be the next choice. Since I know how light of a sleeper
Riden is, it’s been difficult to find an opportunity to search his room at night.
But now I can make the most of being stuck in here. Short of breaking the door
down, I don’t have a way to get out of here. I put my lockpicks back in the table leg after incapacitating Enwen and Belor.
I get to work, opening drawers and checking pockets. It’s difficult to tell what
I’ve already searched through because I have to put everything neatly back in its place as soon as I’m done. I try to start at one point in the room and move in a
circle.
More than an hour must pass, and I’ve found nothing.
Where did you hide it, Jeskor? Who did you give it to if neither of your sons has it?
It simply must be somewhere else on the ship.
Why should I have thought that Riden had it at all? He’s certainly portrayed
himself as the least favorite of Lord Jeskor’s sons. Not sure I can say which is
my least favorite of Jeskor’s sons at the moment.
Riden’s a bloody half-wit. Locking me in here, trying to toy with me, using
me to kill a pirate he couldn’t kill himself. Sometimes I think him a coward. But not a coward by fear. A coward by choice. Which is worse?
I’d purposely kept my mind focused on the search, but now that it’s over, my
mind is free to wander. And it shifts straight to what I’d been doing with Riden an hour ago.
Sometimes I’m an idiot. I clench my hand into a fist before giving the table a
good slam.
I feel the pressure in my hand, then hear the rumble of the desk and the shattering of glass.
Stars!
Among maps, compasses, and other navigational tools, Riden has an
hourglass on the table.
Had an hourglass on the table.
Now it’s broken at my feet.
I hope that didn’t have any sentimental value.
Actually, no. I hope it did have sentimental value. Lots and lots. Serves him right. In fact, why stop with his hourglass?
Riden wants to keep me locked up in his room. Well, he’d better be prepared
to deal with the consequences. I rearrange his boots so each left foot goes with
the wrong right one. I throw his clothing onto the floor in heaps. That’s not good enough, though. I can’t help but jump up and down on them. I hope there’s plenty of grime on the bottom of my boots.
I rearrange his bookcase. I crumple his papers. I knock everything over that stands upright.
I’m going to be the biggest pain in the arse Riden has ever dealt with. That’ll