Page 25 of Bloody Black

Indeed. Part of me wonders if, actually, I would be a good queen. Would my reign be bloody, like my father’s? Or would all this violence tire me out, so that by the time I became queen, my tastes would tend toward quiet and peaceful conversations over tea?

Who could tell?

Xandretta jerks her head. “I’d never want to be locked up again. I would rather be here, poor and free. Up until now, the sole point of my life has been to cater to someone else. Even if I did live in a palace and sleep on silk sheets.”

Silently, I agree. Now that I had this new life, even I could see that being a princess had major downsides.

“Play this right, and we can get everything we need from him. Sail routes. Fleet positions. William’s next move.” Prudence whips another rod over her head, casts it far out into the waves, then settles the pole back into its iron holder.

“Yes, well. If I have to seduce it out of him, I will. Whatever gets the job done.”

Domino chuckles darkly. “How will you manage that? We all know you can’t stand men.”

No, not really. Have sex with one again? Never. I wasn’t even tempted to try. My wedding night had burned all sexual desire out of me.

Pyrrhus weaves between their feet, meowing plaintively, and Xandretta scoops him up with one hand. They’re a good pair. He isn’t scared off by her hideous face, and she doesn’t seem to notice his smell: a heady mix of fish guts, dirt, and mildew. She rubs her face against his scruffy neck.

“Many have begged for their lives… you’ve never shown mercy before. Why this one?” Prudence deftly redoes one of her braids as she speaks, rebinding it into a red leather band. “What’s special about Robb Maynard?”

“Because the lieutenant is worth more alive than dead—at least for now,” Rokhur replies. “If we can turn him against the king, that would be ideal.”

“And if we can’t?” Prudence asks. “Then what?”

“What do you mean, then what? We kill him and Ro will use him for parts.” Domino shrugs. “Same as always.”

The idea of Rokhur wearing his skin, his face, unexpectedly bothers me. I twinge uncomfortably.

Mercy chews at her fingernails. They’re bitten to the quick, probably bleeding. Arguing of any kind, no matter how gently, always makes her anxious. “And… and… his men?”

“You know what I always say: Never kill a man before he’s outlived his usefulness.”

Rokhur clacks her teeth at Domino. Or rather, someone’s teeth, because it’s unclear whose jaw she’s reappropriated to herself. “You’ve never said that.”

Tremaine and Robb both seem like complete pains in the ass. Along with the rest of their crew. But we need them. Need their information.

“Keeping them alive is probably unwise,” Domino mutters, inhaling deeply on a clove cigarette.

“Undoubtedly.” Rokhur agrees, her eyes glowing faintly red .

“What’s the utility—” Holly starts, but I cut her off.

I can’t stand the bickering. “You all stop arguing. They’re staying, and that’s that.”

The crew looks petulant. Mercy sniffs.

“Please don’t cry. I can handle anyone’s tears but yours.” Prudence picks her fingernails with a knife.

“She just wants us all to be normal again.” Holly puts an arm around Mercy.

Domino’s ice blue eyes gaze out at the deep.

Then, she says, softly, “How can I be normal with this on my skin?” She points at her chest, where the word whore is carved deep.

For once, she is neither sarcastic nor joking, nor sharing sexual innuendos.

She’s just sad. Sad, because sometimes, no matter how hard you try to outrun them, bad memories find you. “What man is going to want me?”

“Maybe one who can’t read?” Prudence quips, trying to lighten the mood.

There’s a moment of shocked silence, and then I laugh. “Sorry.”

“We should kill every man who steps foot on our ship.” Xandretta drinks deep from the bottle of rum, then passes it to me.

“We can’t do that.” Holly’s reply is matter-of-fact.

“Why not? That’s what they’d do to us.”

Overhead, gulls scream and circle, streaks of white against a blood orange sunset. Samson scales the rigging, limbs quick and nimble. Roger twists in the sea breeze.

“Look what I found!” Teach calls out, sauntering up and shaking a brown sack, his grin visible even through his beard. “Coffee! ”

“Oh! I haven’t had coffee in years!” Holly sniffs the bag dramatically.

The scent floods my senses—it reminds me of breakfasts with my father. Of silver spoons clinking against porcelain cups, and dresses frothing with lace. A different life. A different me.

“So, Blackbeard. Tell us. How does vengeance feel?” Prudence asks. She’s looking up at Jolly Roger, a wistful expression on her face.

“Incredible.” I have no regrets. “If I could, I’d do it again. More slowly.”

“Ah, but what I would give to be able to do the same.” Prudence stretches her arms over her head. “If only I’d been there when Rokhur killed those bastards holding us captive.”

Holly studies the ocean stretched out in every direction. “My mother always said that if you don’t heal your wounds, you keep bleeding.”

Prudence shrugs. “I’d bleed forever, if it meant the men who hurt me were dead.”

I won’t argue with that.

“Speaking of which, how much longer will we have our precious cargo?”

Xandretta considers, peering up at the sun. “Perhaps another day or so? Hard to say, since the isle is hidden from the eyes of men. And we’ll have to put an anchor down soon. This ship is too well known.”

She’s right. The Concorde —I correct myself, the Queen Anne’s Revenge— is notorious. Any ships we come upon would likely recognize it, even from afar. We’ll need to travel at night, as we typically do. This would delay our drop-off.

For, hidden in the hold, transferred to The Concorde after we’d stolen it, was a group of women and children.

Precious cargo. Each time we freed another group, we would murder all their captors, then ferry the survivors to a better place.

A place where they’d be protected and allowed to live in peace.

Very few chose to stay on as crew; some traveled with us a bit further, hoping to return to families they’d been taken from.

“Once they’re safe on dry land, we’ll continue to Isla Lorah.”

To Baldric. Then Soren. Then Venka and William. Making our way across my treasure map.

One by one, bit by bit, I’ll cut away his ships. His friends. Until finally, I face my husband again.

Then I’ll carve out his heart and spit on it.

I glance down at the wood in my hands. Teach taught me the basics of wood carving in our first year, and I get better every day. This one is a fox. Cunning, adaptable, quick-witted, foxes are often guides to the spirit world. I hold it up to Domino. “Here.”

She plucks it from my hand, runs her fingers over its ferocious little face. “I love it.”

“Then bring it to life.”

Domino, now that she’s healed, has regained her magic.

Earth magic, only truly useful on land. She could animate small objects, like the wood carving that now rested in her palm.

For every group of people we saved, I made a totem, and then Domino brought it to life.

It would stay behind as a sentinel and prevent men from hurting them again.

It’s the best chance that we can give them.