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Not afraid. Not afraid. My hand clasped the gold door handle and I kicked up my chin before pushing my way inside. Not afraid.

The only light came from the chandelier and the burning hearth, its flames shadowed by the mountainous silhouette of the King. Just a week ago, the room had been filled with dust; but tonight, the wooden floors shone, the furniture gleaming in the golden cast of fire.

‘Sit,’ the King rumbled, not bothering to look up as I entered.

Two place settings had been laid at opposite ends of the giant table and I took my seat hesitantly, relieved by the distance that would separate us.

The table was piled high with a banquet that roused the hunger in my belly. I inhaled the aroma of roasted meats, of steamed vegetables and richly spiced soups. Saliva pooled on my tongue, but I sat stubbornly in my steepled chair, waiting to see whether the King would make good on his end of the bargain. I wasn’t going to take the word of a pirate.

‘Eat,’ he said after a minute, his head still angled to the flames, apparently deep in thought.

Irritation flared in my chest. He wasn’t even going to join me? I crossed my arms, strangely insulted. I should’ve been glad, but his lingering presence while I ate felt more patronising than obliging.

I looked over at the King and raised a brow. ‘Aren’t you at least going to sit down?’

He lifted his head, considering me for a moment before he retreated from the fireplace and took the seat opposite, enough dishes to feed an army stretching between us. He reached forward without a word, impaled a hunk of lamb on his fork and began piling meat on to his plate.

Perhaps if no man can kill him, his diet will, I thought sourly, grabbing a bowl of vegetables bathed in butter and rosemary. I scooped up a single potato and dropped it on to my plate. It might not have been stolen food, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me indulge in a feast he’d practically forced me into.

I could feel the King’s gaze like a hot poker on my skin, branding my cheeks until they flushed under his stare. Pretending to be unperturbed, I bit into the potato, savouring its perfect, fluffy texture. The home-grown ones I’d been living off for months had tasted like stones in comparison.

We ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the crackling fireplace and the meat tearing between the tyrant’s teeth. He ate exactly as I’d imagined he would – with no regard for anything beyond slaking his hunger.

Pirates.

I watched as he ripped into his food with bare hands, studying the strong curve of his shadowed jaw, the dark hair that curled its way beneath, wondering, as always, which of the stories were true. Whatever inhuman horrors he was hiding under that hood had to mean something; had to explain why he was so determined to wreak havoc against our world.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, I set down my fork and cleared my throat. Monster or not, I couldn’t play taciturn forever, and I’d waited long enough for the truths he’d promised.

‘I’m ready for my answer,’ I said.

The King reclined in his chair, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He said nothing, but I took his silence as acquiescence and folded my arms neatly on the tabletop.

‘Who is Bane? And what does he want with me?’

‘You think I’m going to answer that when you can’t even eat a proper meal?’ he drawled. ‘One question, that was the deal.’

‘Fine, then. Who is Bane?’

The King sighed. I waited with bated breath, resisting the urge to drum my fingers on the table in anticipation.

‘A traitor,’ he explained eventually, sounding reluctant. When I raised a brow, he went on. ‘Used to be one of our crew but he led a mutiny, few years back – roused half my damn fleet into open revolt against Oren. Now he’s living on borrowed time, and I intend to collect.’

‘And what does that have to do with me?’ I pressed.

The King clicked his tongue. ‘One question, that was the deal,’ he repeated.

I clenched my jaw. That was the deal – didn’t mean I had to like it. I stood, brushed down my skirts, and headed for the door.

‘I didn’t say you could leave.’

‘Didn’t say you’d be such miserable company, either,’ I shot back. Forgetting, for a second, who I was talking to.

The Heartless King growled a warning, but before I could say something to make things worse, he stiffened, as though he’d caught a scent on the breeze. He rose swiftly, cloak swirling as he crossed the room and burst through the doors, brushing past me as he went.

‘Where are you going?’ I called after him, put out that he’d robbed me of the chance to storm off.

‘Someone’s here.’