He stirs then. I quickly look down at my wrists so as not to be caught staring.
Suddenly, I’m overcome with the urge to rip the bandages off.
Riden’s hand shoots out, grasping right below the injury on my right wrist.
“Not yet. Keep those bandages on. You need to keep your wounds clean for a while.”
“It itches something fierce.”
“I know, and it will only get worse, but you mustn’t scratch.”
“And I suppose you’ve had to wear manacles before?”
“Everyone on the ship has.”
“At the same time?” I clarify. His response is a little unusual, full of bitterness and regret.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Riden’s hand is still on my arm. He’s taken to stroking my skin with his fingertips. I don’t stop him because it makes the itching subside.
“I’ll tell you what, Alosa. I’ll offer you a story in exchange for a story.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your scars.”
“That’s many stories.”
“But I’m sure you can give me something.”
“I suppose I could, but you first.”
Riden thinks for a moment. He props his head up with his free hand, the other
still tracing my skin. “All right. I trust you. I’ll go first.”
He trusts me? What exactly is that supposed to mean? Is he a fool? I’ve given
him no reason to trust me. It’s more likely he feels obligated to go first, what with yesterday’s events and all.
There are many kinds of pirates, but Riden is the first I’ve met who feels remorse for his pirating. Perhaps that’s why I find him so interesting. He treats me better than any other pirate would a prisoner, I’m sure.
“About a year prior,” Riden starts, “my father, Lord Jeskor, was still in command of this ship. Draxen and I had been living on the Night Farer practically our whole lives. I’m sure you can relate. Pirate lords need sons to pass their legacy on to. Or, in your case, a daughter. Peculiar, that one. You’ll have to explain to me someday how that all started out.”
“No, I don’t,” I say.
He smiles. “I suppose you don’t, but I’d be curious to know.”
“Your story?”
“Right. Well, many of us on the ship are the sons of the original crewmen.
Others are young thieves and murderers who we picked up along the way. We put together a crew after the ship was ours.”
“And how did the ship become yours? Where do the irons come in?”
He puts a finger to my lips. “Shh. I’m getting to that part. You can be downright impatient sometimes.”
I frown under the pressure of his finger. He removes it and sets it on the bed.
“My father had become careless. He and his men spent far too much time on
land and less time on the sea, pirating. They were lazy, drunk, loud—all the time. We, their sons and fellow crew members, were all but forgotten. So we decided to try to take the ship from them.”
I raise a brow in disbelief. “You expect me to believe your father, a pirate lord, became lazy, and that motivated you all to take the ship?”
“You know what it’s like to be raised by pirates—I’ve seen your scars. Ours
are less visible. They barely fed us. They gave us the more dangerous jobs during our robbing and plundering. We were beaten whenever they got bored, which was quite regularly. Finally, we’d had enough. And we tried to take the ship.”
“And you failed.”
“Yes, we failed. They put us in chains, locked us in the brig, then decided to
kill us all one by one for mutiny.”
“They obviously didn’t succeed.”
Riden shakes his head. “No, but they came close. My father wanted to start with me. I was … a disappointment to him. I hadn’t turned out the way he wanted me to. Didn’t look enough like him. Didn’t talk, walk, drink like him. I
think my father chalked it up to the fact that we have different mothers—but whatever the reason, Draxen was always more like him. Do you have any brothers or sisters, Alosa?”
“I’m sure by now there’s near a hundred of them. My father has quite the …
appetite. But I’m the only one he’s claimed. If there are others, I do not know of them.”
“I see. I was raised with Draxen. We did everything together. Played and fought. He always looked out for me, being my older brother. When my father