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‘Well, if you’re not plannin’ on selling her back to him, I know me crew’d be happy to take her off your hands.’ Mersey turned her gaze to Sebastien. ‘Pretty thing like that. Unless, o’ course—’

‘Enough, Mer.’ It was Golde who cut her off, the quiet menace in her voice carrying through the hushed room.

Mersey smirked, her eyes gleaming. ‘Relax, Goldie. You know pretty’s not me type.’

A muscle clenched in Golde’s jaw and the two women stared each other down, staunch gazes cutting through the simmering tension. I tried to decipher their steely expressions, but both were as guarded as each other.

Guarding what? I wondered.

‘She’s here ’til Bane’s dead,’ Aron said into the taut silence.

Another wave of anger rolled down the table at the mention of their enemy. Whether Mersey really was a friend, it was clear the two crews stood on the same side against traitors. But the old captain’s eyes were still caught in Golde’s. ‘Huh,’ she said. Her tone was veiled, almost threatening. ‘Pretty sure I can get word of your location to him before the week’s out, if you want.’

‘We got it covered.’ Una’s tone was almost defensive.

My eyes flicked up to the King, wondering why he said nothing. If what Mersey said was true, he could have his revenge soon. And me – I could slip away before King Oren ever caught wind of my whereabouts. I could go home.

But once again, Sebastien’s crew seemed in no hurry. If they were as hungry for vengeance as they claimed, then why weren’t they leaping at Mersey’s offer? Why had they killed Cullen’s crew – was their bloodlust really so insurmountable?

Still, I said nothing. Because I knew that the day Bane came would be the day the world around me shattered. When what little security I had on the Blood Rose would crumble and I’d be left to face my future, alone.

Mersey lounged back, wooden leg propped up on a stool beside her, long hair the colour of dying autumn leaves splayed around her shoulders. ‘No sign o’ the bastard, then?’ she grunted.

I didn’t like the impatience that snapped at her words, like a hound awaiting a meal.

‘He sent Cullen ’bout five weeks ago,’ Aron answered. ‘Shouldn’t be too long.’

‘Cullen.’ Mersey’s first mate scoffed, tipping back in his chair. ‘Hated the bilge-sucker. Should’ve taken more’n his teeth when I had the chance.’

‘Aye. If you need backup . . .’ Mersey raised her whisper-thin brows at the King.

‘We’ll handle it,’ he replied bluntly.

‘I heard he’s got more’n a thousand. Peasants, farmers – all the hungry ones are joining him these days.’

‘He’s no fool,’ Golde countered. ‘Won’t risk losin’ more’n a couple o’ crews.’

Mersey shrugged, looking unconvinced. ‘They might be halfway dead already, but they outnumber you. I ain’t gonna let you face him alone.’

‘Ye said ye weren’t gonna drag the fleet into a losin’ battle,’ Aron muttered. ‘It ain’t worth it.’

‘The fleet,’ Mersey hissed. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m letting you . . . Gods – you’re so determined to be reckless. Don’t tell me you honestly think—’

‘Seven hundred we took out, the year Oren succeeded,’ Golde interrupted, eyes brimming with a violent nostalgia. ‘Remember?’

A small smile slipped across Mersey’s furrowed lips, her anger seeming to evaporate when her eyes met Golde’s. ‘Aye, I remember.’

My stomach lurched. Seven hundred. I didn’t know why I was surprised. It was who they were: thieves, pillagers, murderers. I released a long, slow breath, trying to chase away the nauseating feeling. Why did I keep letting myself forget the things they’d done?

As if he sensed my unease, Aron leaned in to speak low in my ear. ‘It’s our way o’ life, lass,’ he said. ‘The seas ain’t safe fer anyone, and those who face us know what’s comin’. Doesn’t stop ’em.’

I folded my arms over my chest, frowning at his casual tone. It didn’t change the facts, didn’t lessen the grief of the families their victims left behind.

‘When ye have something worth defending,’ he added, even quieter, ‘see if ye wouldn’t kill to protect it.’

Aron turned his back to respond to someone on his other side and I sat back, heart thudding. It wasn’t his ominous tone but Golde’s words that had me on edge. The year Oren succeeded. Golde barely looked twenty; King Oren had ruled for thirty years at least.

‘We’ll handle Bane,’ Sebastien said, drawing my attention back to the conversation at hand. His voice fell sharp through the heavy quiet, leaving no room to argue. ‘The rest of his followers are yours.’