The pirate hunter continued. “Surely my—our—company is preferable to that. I know your mother is involved, but—”
I stared at him. “How do you know that?”
“My commission is to capture Lirr,” he reminded me. “I know many things. If your aim is to help your mother, if Demery is using her to control you—let me assure you, Ms. Firth, we will rescue her instead. You and I. Us. Hart.”
“Stop,” I hissed, cheeks suddenly flushed with unsorted emotion. “I thought all you wanted from me was a coin, Samuel Rosser. Do you even know who my mother is?”
He faltered at mention of the coin and I wondered if he might back down, but no. He plunged ahead. “She is one of Lirr’s victims. Which is why Her Majesty has given Hart this commission. And if you would—”
“My mother is the Fleetbreaker.” I leaned across the table this time. “The woman who won the Battle of Sunjai and bought the Seven Year Peace. And she did that with me in her belly. To buy us freedom. A safe home. A quiet life.” My voice thinned as I recalled that lost security, but I told myself it was from anger. “And the queen? Her Navy dragged my mother back to sea, they lost her to Lirr, and now look where we are. Lirr has her, and I? I…”
The emotion in my voice was definitely not anger now. My eyes burned. Everything I said flowed from a dark corner of my heart, bringing with it a truth I didn’t want to face.
Rosser did not say a word.
“Lirr caught me,” I reminded him. “She was there. I didn’t know it, but she was there. I heard her sing.”
Rosser’s hand started to reach across the table, but he halted it halfway. “You could not have known, nor done anything if you had.”
“I should have known, at the least,” I returned. “Somehow.”
Silence fell between us for a long moment. A rebellious tear finally trickled down my cheek, destroying my attempt at dignity.
I wiped it away and met Rosser’s gaze again. I expected scorn, maybe pity. But all I saw was compassion—genuine, warm, disconcerting compassion that made me want to flee, because my heart recognized that expression as safe, when I knew it couldn’t be.
“I’ll give you your coin back,” I said, standing up. With that movement, I shoved thoughts of my mother back into the lockbox of my heart and clasped my hands before my skirts. “But this is my last night here. I doubt I’ll be off the ship again until… Well, not for a few days.”
“Until the Frolick,” Rosser said, startling me. “I will be there.”
Through a lingering cloud of emotions, a thrill that was equal parts anticipation and suspicion inched through me. I’d see him again. But: “How did you know about the Frolick?”
Rosser tried to smile, but he looked so strained by this point that I almost pushed his forgotten beer into his hand.
“Word of you is going about,” he said by way of explanation. He gestured towards the stage where I’d been singing. “You have done little to hide yourself. And that man with Charles Grant is Lady Phira’s footman, rumored to be the bastard son of the queen’s late brother, Jarl of Koest.”
I stared at the back of Mallan’s pale-haired head. The man potentially had Usti royal blood? No wonder he had such sway on the lower tiers of society.
“What else do you know?” I asked, curious enough to sit back down.
He reclaimed his neglected beer and took a drink, settling himself. “I know your mother sailed with the North Fleet. My uncle was her admiral—though I know admitting that may sully your opinion of me further. When the peace ended sixteen years ago she was transferred to the East Fleet, where she sailed for years, though it is apparent she was lost during that time. I assume her disappearance was kept quiet for… understandable reasons. Pride. Reputation. Keeping the Mereish and Capesh at arm’s length.”
I quietly digested this.
“Now she sails with Lirr, as his Stormsinger.” Rosser spoke with marked unease. “We were unaware of that, back in Whallum.”
My brows drew together. “Really?”
Rosser nodded. “Mary, my deepest condolences about your mother. I can only imagine what you feel, knowing where she is. I would be desperate too.”
“I’m not desperate,” I said, thoughtlessly.
He looked taken aback.
“I don’t know what I am,” I fumbled, edging a little too close to honesty. “I’m determined, but it’s complicated. I wasn’t even sure she was alive until a few weeks ago.”
Rosser eyed me but did not press the topic. “Are you treated well aboard Demery’s ship?”
I started to shrug, then nodded. “Yes, surprisingly well.”
“Then that fellow over there, the one who’s been leering at you all night. He’s not caused trouble?” Rosser nodded sideways. “I saw him come in with you.”
I looked before I could stop myself and saw one of Demery’s crew sitting a few tables off, legs spread wide beneath the table and several empty cups before him. He was looking at his drinking companions, hunched with both his elbows on the tabletop, laughing hoarsely at some joke. He wasn’t looking at me now, but he was one of the crew I’d marked out as potential threats.
“No,” I said, but I’d taken too long to answer and Rosser looked unconvinced. I added, “There’s men like him everywhere in the world. Demery’s crew are no worse than the fellows around the inn I grew up in.”
I paused, catching myself too close to the truth again. But his focus was still on the leering crewman. He scrutinized the man for another moment, then finished his beer and stood.
“I ought to go,” he said, looking back down at me. “I will see you at the festival?”
I stood up too, wondering what I’d done to make him decide to leave. I would have also wondered why the thought of seeing him again warmed me so much, but by then I was aware that when it came to Mr. Rosser, my feelings were not wise.
“You will,” I said.
“And the coin?”
Ah. The warmth receded. “I’ll bring it. Of course.”
He began to button up his jacket, head bowed, not looking at me.
I asked on impulse, “Why? Why is it so important?”
“It is a charm,” he said simply. “To help me sleep.”
“I see.” I didn’t entirely understand, but I noted the fatigue around his eyes again, and softened. “I’ll bring it, I promise. Goodbye, Mr. Rosser.”
The softness in my voice seemed to catch him by surprise. He paused over his last button, watching me until the shadow of a smile touched his lips. Then picked up his hat and planted it on his head. “Goodnight, Ms. Firth.”
TWENTY-NINE
James Demery and the Harpy
MARY
Demery returned from his journey the evening before the Frolick with two Usti companions, a woman and her husband, whom I met in the main cabin. They were both muscular, their skin light brown, their hair blonde and their Aeadine accented. The husband was tall, broad and attractive enough to make all but Old Crow eye him sideways—she examined him straight on. His wife, meanwhile, was of medium stature, with a fit build that reminded me of my mother, with broad hips, and a flat chest beneath a heavy coat. Most of her hair was hidden beneath a fur-lined cap, damp with melting snow.