Page 23 of Bloody Black

Also, annoying. I didn’t think his screaming would be anything other than entertaining, but after only a half hour, jolly old Roger has worn out his welcome.

Prudence stands next to me at the helm, her head tipped back as she studies Mercy in the crow’s nest, Roger writhing just a few feet away.

“You should have left his penis. Let the seagulls eat it. ”

“Eh. It’d be too small of a meal.” I crack my neck, then look over at the lieutenant, baking in the full sun.

“What do you think?” asks Domino, holding up a box tied with a wimpy, looping white bow.

“Very festive.” Prudence nods approvingly. “He’ll never even know there’s a cock in there.”

Mailing gifts to William was her idea, and it was a good one. We’ll send this one along at the next port.

Wind whips through the rigging, rattling The Concorde’s sails like a ghost shaking its chains.

The quarterdeck is clean, thanks to Holly, and on the main deck, my crew has set up an assembly line of sorts.

They pick over the scattered corpses, stripping them of weapons and valuables.

Another group of men rolls the bodies overboard.

Holly sweeps the blood from the main deck with a wide broom, Samson following behind with a bucket to rinse it away.

I try not to think about the hull of the ship, where blood leaks down its lovely sides, leaving a red trail across the sea. Or the herd of sharks following us.

Robb slumps against the mast, arms bound behind him, watching it all. He should have looked defeated. Instead, he seems… pensive. His gaze moves over the deck, over my crew as they laugh and loot. He studies Pyrrhus, our cat, weaving around his feet. Gathering the courage to speak to me.

“So you’re he,” he says at last. “You’re the dreaded Blackbeard. I imagined you as a man.”

“Most people do. ”

Because no woman could ever hunger for blood. No woman could hold a pirate’s helm. No men would elect a woman as their captain. Because their own biases blind them to the reality: anyone can be anything, hiding their monsters underneath.

“The papers have covered you quite a bit, lately.” His green eyes scan my face. “If I may say, the legend quite lives up to the lore.”

Hm. I don’t know what to say to that, so instead I merely consider him.

Waiting. I don’t feel obligated to filll the silence between us.

If it’s awkward, all the better for me. People tend to fill quiet with blathering, saying far more than they mean to, and I hope Lieutenant Maynard will do the same.

“You’re bleeding.” Robb nods at the blood on my hands, my shirt, my pants.

“It’s not mine.”

“That’s cold-hearted of you.”

“Bloody black, as they say.”

He quirks his eyebrow. “It must be difficult, leading two lives… Pretending to be a man.”

“Not that difficult. I merely imagine someone violent, unable to understand emotions or control common impulses, and I’m more than halfway there.”

“You fired forks from the cannons.”

“When you only have three cannonballs in your hold, you learn to improvise.”

“Ah.”

When he says nothing else, I return to thinking about my most pressing problem: his men. According to the dockmaster’s ledger, The Concorde arrived in Venedria with three hundred and two souls aboard. Of course, my crew had killed the majority.

The leftovers have been gathered, rope binding their wrists.

It’s a large enough group that I can’t count them readily. They look trained and at the ready, if a little wary.

Giving Prudence a let’s get on with it gesture, she approaches the group, blade raised and glinting in the sun.

“Wait!” the lieutenant shouts. “You aren’t going to keep them?”

“No mercy, no quarter. That means no hostages,” Prudence growls.

He’s flabbergasted. “Those are good men, decent, with families. Naval law says they can go.”

“There’s no such thing as naval law. Not on this ship. And there’s no such thing as a good man . You’d know that, if you had to suffer them as I have.”

Knowing he’d get nowhere with her, Robb pleads with me instead. “Please.”

His gaze grates on me. His tone, his begging, bothers me like an exposed nerve. I stare out over the water, shoulders squared, resolved. He must think me a fool if he believes merely asking would move me.

“Kill me, if you must, but not them.” He strains against his binding. “Please.”

No captain had ever begged for the life of his crew before; not once. They must be valuable sailors indeed, if he would sacrifice himself for them. It’s not enough to move me, but it is interesting.

I hold up a hand. Wait .

Again, I study them critically. If I let one wrong man live, I risk mutiny and being murdered in my sleep.

His group of sailors shuffle their feet.

They are large, strong, and capable. None of them, not one, seems afraid of me.

Nervous, maybe. Uncertain, but resolved to their fates.

They are all clad in royal blue, the color of my kingdom.

They bear my flag, the House of Celestia.

Perhaps some of them were even recruited by my father, or they’d once shaken his hand.

Could I fault them for sailing under William, the false king who had tricked me? Tricked us?

“I will speak with them.”

Giving no outward sign of my uncertainty, I stroll by, hands clasped behind my back.

Every man that I can see is broad-shouldered, tanned.

Sharp-eyed, with nary a drunk among them.

I can’t help but be impressed by their posture and bearing.

Robb has clearly done well—these seem to be the best men in Celestia’s navy.

A navy that is technically still mine.

What would I do when I returned to the throne? Kill every man in the kingdom, simply for having a cock? How was I to maintain an army?

The best I can do is to offer them a choice.

“Stay and sail, or swim and die.” The strong seabreeze lifts the dark curls of my hair as I circle them. “Stay, and take an equal share of plunder. You harm a woman or child, I cut your dick off and feed it to the djinn.”

I point at Xandretta, and she smiles at them, all teeth and black tongue.

One of them, tall with light brown curling hair and big hazel eyes, visibly shudders.

Prudence leans close with a hiss. “You’re offering a choice to them?”

“If I am to challenge the king, we will need more hands with knives in them.” Men’s hands.

I leave those words unsaid, though I know wars are not won with women alone.

“And we’ll need more men to crew this ship.

If we can get information out of them, it’ll bring us closer to the throats of our enemies.

” I don’t even bother whispering, because my plans are no secret.

They will ally with me, or they will die, and I can at least be clear about it.

She scoffs, glances back at them. “I worry they’ll be creeping into our beds. Slit our throats. You’re inviting serpents into our garden.”

Xandretta intervenes. “Most men sail under whoever will hire them, and when they tire or hate them, they walk away. More work is always waiting at the next port, and there are plenty of ships to choose from. Aye?”

She frowns, but I can tell she agrees. “Aye.”

“Not much of a debate, is it?” one of his men sneers.

In the space of a breath, Prudence is on him, her blade to his neck. “Then it shouldn’t take you more than a second to think it over.” She shoves his chest, then steps back. “ Swim or die, sailor. ”

She smiles. “Even scum like you has choices.”

With a curse, he shoves past her. He steps onto the plank, then walks right off the end. We watch as he drops like a stone into the deep blue sea. Land is just barely visible in the distance… but he’d drown long before he reached it .

Fool.

Although, perhaps his morals wouldn’t allow him to turn pirate. Maybe, he’d rather die than serve a woman. Who knew? Either way, neither his principles nor his pride would keep him afloat.

The rest of Robb’s crew watches, silent and waiting.

“What say you, men?” I say again. “Who’s next? Sail or swim?”

The next three elect to swim, and good luck to them. One by one, the men in his group decide. Then, near the end, one steps forward that I recognize.

“Tremaine, isn’t it?” I ask. “The one from the tavern, who can’t hold his drink?”

The sailor grimaces, bowing his head. “You have my apologies. Though in my defense, you ladies were far too distracting for any man to keep his wits.”

“And what is your role on The Concorde ?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Doctor. And first mate.” He reaches into his pocket, and Prudence tenses, but it’s only to put on a pair of glasses. “In order to make my decision, I’ll need to hear the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Ethos. Mantras. Rules for your crew, in as much detail as you’ll provide.”

Goddamn, but he reminds me of Xandretta.

Holly chimes in. “We take no women, no children. No slaves. And no whippings. We set people free, not put them in chains. We take turns cooking–just because I have lady bits doesn’t mean I’m serving the likes of you.

And we clean on Sundays. Fighting and training is only to be done on the fore deck, where the rain can easily wash off the blood. ”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, she has at least a hundred more,” Prudence mutters under her breath, and Domino elbows her.

Tremaine smothers a smile. “I’ll stay. Delighted to serve you, Captain Blackbeard.” He bows.

Annoyed, I take Prudence aside to give her orders. “Go to the crew quarters, sort out belongings and sleeping arrangements.”

“And if they make trouble?” she scowls at Lieutenant Maynard and his first mate. “If any of our new crew seem ambitious?

“String them up with Roger. I’m sure he could use the company.”