Page 17

Of Ruby, Polly, and Dobbs.

Oh, gods, they were all dead because of me.

My heart lurched against my ribs, forcing a loud gasp to burn up my throat. My nose burned, and I blinked from the light, confused about where I was and that I was alive. Slowly my senses picked up the gilded room around me and the small but stone-faced man standing over me with a bitter-smelling cloth at my nose. His likeness was painted on the portrait over the fireplace and adorned everything in this city.

Terror sunk to the bottom of my gut.

Emperor Batara.

He folded the handkerchief away, stepping back, his gaze rolling over me.

“To finally meet the infamous woman pirate raiding my seas.” His timbre, cold and stilted, was woven with fury. Visually, he was nothing special. A small-framed man, he had dark but graying short hair and obsidian eyes set in a face that never showed emotion, never letting you know how much danger you were truly in. I wasn’t afraid of humans, but for him, I made an exception.

He had me chained to a chair, the goblin metal leaching into my bones, keeping me from shifting or moving. Goblin metal was the nearest thing to kryptonite a fae had.

“What do they call you? Puss in Boots?” He tugged at the cuffs of his expensive suit. “A vulgar name, but what can I expect from someone like you? The worst scum of the earth.”

Not answering, I drifted my eyes over the space. The room was trimmed in gold and draped with rich reds and elaborate chandeliers. Asian-style motif wallpaper, elegant, curved furniture embedded with ivory, and rich handstitched rugs cost three times more than my ship. All fit for an emperor, enjoying his finery while his people starved.

Both exits in the room, plus the window, had two huge guards loaded with weapons stationed at each post. They stood so silently they could have been mistaken for statues.

Even if I could shift into my cat form, I wasn’t slipping out so easily. Humans had learned quickly how to level the playing field, how iron ripped magic from faeries, and goblin metal or druid magic basically crippled all fae.

“As you see, there is nowhere to go,” Batara spoke, his gaze never leaving mine. I could feel the emptiness behind them. How insignificant my life was to him, which made me wonder why I was here and not dead already. “And if I wanted you dead, you already would be.”

“Where is the rest of my crew?” What has left, anyway. I swallowed, my jaw locking so I wouldn’t betray my devastation—little Ruby’s slit throat, Dobbs’s headless body, Polly’s dead eyes staring at the sky.

In this line of business, emotions were something you learned to hide, to not let anyone see your weakness. My expression was blank, but my grief tore at my chest.

Were Gage, Typhoon, Hurricane, Zuri, and Moses still alive?

“You are a hard woman to track.” Batara moved confidently around the room. “I have some of the best spies in the world, and they still could not pin you down.”

I said nothing, my steady gaze watching his every move.

“It’s why I had to set up this elaborate affair.” He pulled a cigarette out of his silver case in his jacket pocket. “You should be honored. I have never had to put on a show for anyone before.” He lit his cigarette, taking a drag. “But I knew you could not resist. To have the notoriousBlue Moon of Josephine,once worth over 48 million dollars. What is the worth today?” He tipped an eyebrow at me, taking another puff.

“Close to 80 million,” I replied.

“Yes.” He dipped his head. “What a thief could do with that kind of money.”

“Yes, like help feed the starving people in this city. Or provide clean water. Rebuild. So many things I would do.”

He stabbed out his cigarette, his lids narrowing on mine. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

“About time.”

His jaw twitched, and his shoulder tightened as he approached me.

“You are only alive because I have a deal I wish to present you.”

Acid pooled in my stomach. Nothing good came from “deals” with men like him.

“My only son, the heir to all my fortune and title…” Batara inhaled, and for one second, I thought emotion crossed his eyes, but it was gone before I could blink.

Batara had several daughters, but only one son. And in this sexist, misogynistic world humans still clung to, it was his son who would get everything. Not his daughters.

“My son is not well.” His jaw clenched, and I could tell how much he hated exposing this flaw to me. “Since he was a boy, he has battled leukemia.”