Page 17 of Bloody Black

T he Cock and Crow is a pirate’s haunt, a rickety outpost near the docks. Flickering lanterns illuminate rough-hewn wooden tables, their surfaces marred by countless knife marks. Sailors crowd the room, restless patrons whose raucous laughter and drunken tales come on breath that stinks of fish.

“Weapons?” growls the guard at the door, blocking my path. He eyes the red sash tied horizontally across my chest, loaded with three flintlock pistols. “All of them.”

I hand mine over: the three guns, two knives, and a sword. All are kept sharp enough to carve the wings off a fly.

They hang it all on the wall as usual, and I always take a moment to study them.

Rapiers and cutlasses, rusty, jagged, large and small; iron and silver and bronze. There are more than fifty weapons hanging there, some still with blood on their blade. I don’t see any with the king’s crest, or the blue leather wrapped hilt that is a telltale sign of Celestia’s soldiers.

“Here!” Prudence waves from across the room. “We’re here.”

I move through the sea of bodies, and pirates, fishermen, and scallywags dive out of the way. Everyone steers clear of the crew of Blackbeard.

The tavern is absolutely filthy. Half its seats are broken, the others far too small. Holly is, as usual, cleaning the area around us. “Oh, good… no broken glass underfoot this time. Miracles do happen.”

Domino eyes me. “What happened to your dress?”

“Burned it in a barrel.” This is a lie. The dress is on the floor of the crew’s quarters, tossed into a heap. I’d changed clothes quickly and hurried here to meet them. As promised. Perfectly on time. I still hate when people are late.

The crew perches around the table, all terrifying, dressed in scarred fighting leathers, grease smeared under their eyes.

“Relax, Princess. You’re blending in fine.” Prudence nudges a cup of ale in my direction.

Domino sniffs the stew. “I wouldn’t serve this swill to my enemies.”

Samson, of course, waxes poetic, attempting to rhyme every word. “Eh, the Cock and Crow! One of the best meals you can get. At least as far as pirates go.”

Domino can’t help herself. “If you keep your standards appropriately low.”

“And what’s in it, you don’t want to know.” Prudence grins.

“Hah.” I sip the ale. “Any news of Roger?” My voice drops to a low whisper.

“Just as your spies said. He’s crewing the ship called The Concorde .”

I exhale loudly. Finally. I’ve been looking for that cockroach for a year, gone through half a dozen dead ends.

Roger moved ships quickly, frequently, and was often thrown off the job for laziness and disobedience.

He’d killed three sailors in the last six months, all of them fellow crewmembers.

Too dishonorable to be a pirate, he shuffled between the ships of William’s fleet, never rising in rank due to his bad attitude.

“There’s more,” Xandretta lowers her voice. “The sailors I spoke with said they’ve seen it. Seen The Concorde . Docked in a cove nearby.”

My gaze narrows. “I assume they’re hunting us?”

“Aye. They’re hunting us.” Xandretta’s black fish eyes gleam. “Searching for the scourge Blackbeard.”

Prudence gives a slow, sinister smile. “I suppose it’s their lucky day.”

Or not.

“We’re still going to do it tonight, aren’t we?” Domino asks, her pale brow furrowing. “Board while they’re sleeping?”

We were, but now I’m reconsidering. If they’re in a cove, that means they’re trying to lie low.

Most likely, they’d have crew members watching the shore; we’d have to row out to them, board their boat in small numbers.

It isn’t ideal. Better would be if they were at the dock, better still to overtake them at sea.

Before I can even reply, Holly seems to follow this same line of thinking.

“What if we wait ‘til morning and follow them? Then take the ship when she’s at sea?” Holly leans over, breasts pressed against the table, neckline cut down to the tops of her nipples.

“Then we could keep it. Gods know The Concorde would be a league better than the death trap we’re currently sailing. ”

“Take The Concorde ? The biggest ship in the king’s fleet?” Prudence scoffs. “And here I thought you were the sane one.”

“Why not? We’ve boarded ships before.”

“Have you forgotten the torn sail? It will be a miracle to catch them. And we’re almost out of cannonballs, so we’d have to fight them hand-to-hand.”

My fingers drum on the tabletop. Thinking. Take The Concorde. Make it my own. It isn’t stealing if it’s my army, is it?

This was quickly followed by, Oh, but William will be furious when he hears. The scourge Blackbeard has not only eluded him, but stolen the fastest ship in his fleet!

It will only draw more of William’s enemies to my side.

In every port, sailors ask: How can I join?

For the longer he reigned, the more William’s ruthlessness became apparent.

He’d declared war on Sinder, and encouraged the slavers.

I had faith that eventually, everyone would realize that he was not much different than my father, though he kept up the veneer of civility.

But since he had the largest army, no one wanted to arouse his wrath. When bad things happened to his ships or his soldiers, it was always blamed on Blackbeard. Blackbeard, the ghost pirate with an unkillable crew.

We were repeatedly scapegoated by the other lords, and it saved them from William’s retaliation. This, of course, built my legend even more. Which suited me fine.

Samson chimes in. “ The Flying Rose is a good ship. You don’t throw away a woman for one gray hair.”

A serving wench delivers more ale.

“To good ole King Willy.” Domino raises her cup. “May he die in hellfire. Or, at the edge of a rusty blade.”

“Aye,” we all say in unison, our cups thudding against one another.

“There’s more news. He’s put a price on Blackbeard’s head. 500 gold pieces.” Xandretta runs her forked tongue over black teeth.

“Cheap, considering how much I’ve cost him.”

William hated Blackbeard. He’d sent six of his best ships, each crewed by more than a hundred men, to hunt down the pirate. Two of them now rested at the bottom of the ocean, thanks to me. But it’d put a target on The Flying Rose , me, and my friends… and we didn’t appreciate it.

“If The Concorde is here, that must mean that some of the crew is ashore.”

“Indeed, it does.” Xandretta leans in. “Probably in here. In disguise. Lying low.”

One of the patrons near us glances over, then does a double-take when he sees Samson’s purple spines and spikes, his strange hands. “What are you?”

“He’s an urchinite. Men will fuck anything, won’t they?” Prudence holds up her tankard in a toasting motion and smiles pleasantly .

“Ass,” she mutters, after he turns away.

Domino shrugs and pats Samson’s shoulder. “You want me to kill him?”

“You’ll have your chance later. See the crest on his sword?” Samson points to the weapons wall. “He’s another sailor… and from The Concorde .”

“How many sailors do we have aboard?” I accidentally rhyme.

“One hundred and forty-seven. At least, that’s what is declared in the dockmaster’s ledger.”

“Gods, I hate that you always do that,” Xandretta mutters, and I snicker.

It’s too few. If we attack The Concorde , we’d be outnumbered by a significant margin. Not that that has stopped us before.

“Hopefully, we can kill them before their cannons sink us.” Prudence digs into a steaming meat pie with a rusty fork.

“What about Roger?”

Domino gives a sinister grin. “Our spies say he’s their cook.”

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Floored, I lean back in my chair, a slow smile upturning my lips.

Roger had once been one of the king’s most trusted men, serving as his personal guard.

He’d thought life under William would be better, and so betrayed my father for coin and promises of glory. Now a cook. Imagine.

Smile, Princess. I promise you’ll enjoy it. He’d laughed as he raped me, a braying, grating sound that still gives me nightmares.

Gritting my teeth, I unfold my napkin and lay it across my lap daintily.

Across the room, a group of rowdy sailors sat chatting, and several stared at me openly, a redhead licking his lips.

Brawny, big, ruggedly handsome, with full lips.

Too attractive for his own good, and not much different from the dozens of men I’d encountered in taverns throughout the five kingdoms.

Next to him, a man with dark stubble surveys the room. Striking in his own way, too well-dressed to be a pirate. Clean-shaven. Must be a merchant or a tradesman. He flips a copper coin between his fingers, his sharp-eyed gaze studying every table.

Looking for someone.

When he lands on ours, I retreat into my cloak and avert my eyes, returning them to the wooden bowl in front of me.

“You’re too pretty, Captain.” Holly dabs at her mouth. “They’re all staring.”

I’m not too pretty. And while it’s true that men are always attracted to dangerous women, they truly can’t help but want the one most likely to ruin them… I suspect this is The Concorde’s crew. They’re studying the room far too obviously.

Prudence laughs. “It’s true. You’re a beacon for every lonely idiot in this hellhole.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” a male voice asks loudly, as if determined to prove her right.

A lonely idiot surfaces. I arch an eyebrow.

If he’s part of The Concorde , sent to spy on us, he’s not doing a very good job.

The man reeks of overconfidence, standing with a determined swagger that can only come from never being denied.

Never wounded. His palm is on my table, and he’s leaning over me.

The stench of liquor wafts off of his skin.

“Take your hand off our table,” I tell him, “or you’ll walk away without it.”

His eyes narrow with determination as he tosses his brown curly hair, flexing his bicep. “I guarantee that my hand is worth more than most men. I’m Tremaine Richards. Sailor, doctor, breaker of hearts. Yours if you’re not careful.” He winks at me. “And you are…?”