Page 68 of Bloody Black

Xandretta comes closer. Closer. Until she’s looming right over me, her spindly black legs and arms within reach. She looks down and gives me a wide smile, her teeth slimy needles. She places her large palm on the top of my head. And it rests there briefly, gentle. Loving.

“It was a good wish, Captain. I’m glad you didn’t waste it.”

Wish? I look up at her. “But—”

“Build a ship for me,” she says, firmly.

At first, I don’t understand the reference. It takes a moment to place.

But in that blink, Xandretta streaks up the stairs, crouches on the back of the throne, then one long arm wraps tightly around the demon’s neck.

“Let go!” Rokhur shrieks. “Unhand me!”

There’s a slam of power, and the ceiling cracks, a jagged break emerging in the plaster.

As if it cannot bear the weight of both women, my throne begins to fold in upon itself, shrinking.

Caging, its arms rising to encase the two of them in gilded light.

Smaller and smaller it squeezes, crushing them.

Face to face, chest to chest, Rokhur screaming.

Gold flares, searing across the throne’s arms, and the air turns metallic as they grapple.

Xandretta wrenches for leverage, but Rokhur twists like a serpent, driving her poisonous mist upward, Xandretta’s neck cracking.

The power in the room spikes, a suffocating pressure that shoves me back a step, my lungs fighting for breath as the throne groans under their weight.

Rokhur hisses, her mist faltering for a fraction of a heartbeat—and Xandretta surges, nails raking, teeth snapping for flesh. My throne bucks violently, as if resisting its own enchantment, every jolt rattling the windowpanes.

They’ve never fought before; the two women are evenly matched.

A shockwave of gold ripples out, momentarily blinding me, and there’s a sickening thud as Rokhur shoves Xandretta’s head back against the headrest. When the throne itself collapses, Rokhur screams, which quickly becomes a guttural gasp… And then two of them, the djinn and the demon? They vanish.

Disappear, along with my throne. There’s a soft popping sound, and everything is suddenly gone.

All that remains is a smear of gold dust across the marble.

Energy zaps back into my limbs, and the bargains burn bright. Not black, but etchings of white, the words that once imprisoned me evaporating. I’m back to my normal self. Unwounded, my skin and hair restored.

Xandretta gave me her last wish.

She’d used her powers to save me. Took Rokhur back to hell, or wherever it was she belonged.

“Why? Why would she do that?” Domino demands, as her fingers sift through the glittering sand now coating the floor like fine mist. The throne room is awash with it, stinking of sulfur. We swipe our hands through the dust stupidly, even though it’s clear that no part of either of them remains.

No scale, no teeth, no sliver of bone. Nothing remains of either of them or my throne.

Robb pats his chest, inspects it. He, too, has been completely healed.

“Captain?” Samson says behind me. “... if I may…”

“Please don’t quote me a line of poetry.” My eyes close. “If you do, I swear to the gods, I might run you through.”

Tremaine snickers.

“Just look at the window,” Samson insists.

There, resting on the sill, is the sapphire crown. The metal glints in the light, sharp-edged and heavy. Mine by heritage, by right, by force. And at the last minute, by the cunning act of a friend.

When I pick it up, I notice that there’s a note attached to it. Written in Xandretta’s unmistakable handwriting, all loops and swirls.

“Use it wisely,” I read aloud. My throat tightens. It’s like hearing her voice one last time.

Directly ahead, squarely in front of me, the Queen Anne lies at anchor in the harbor. White-sailed and tall, bobbing pleasantly on the black waves, waiting for her captain and crew to return.

With the weight of that silver circle pressing upon my palms, I feel…

Happy? Not really. After so many losses, it didn’t quite feel like victory.

With a price so high, who could feel celebratory?

This crown is cold in my hands, far too heavy.

My former life is finally restored. I’ll have my tea and face creams, my silk gowns, my horsehair brush.

“Here. Let me.” Domino settles the crown atop my head.

It doesn’t fit, too tight at the temples. It grips my head and tangles in my hair. Made for my mother, it would have suited the younger, softer version of me .

Sensing my discomfort, Domino touches my shoulder tentatively. “You’ll have a new one made. With more diamonds. The gaudiest queen they’ll ever see.”

“Maybe.” I remove it, hands steady, and my gaze returns to the sea.

Use it wisely.

What would I know about being queen? My father was not a good example. I have no real experience from which to pull. Being captain of a ship is a far cry from running a kingdom, from the politics of Sinder and Rivelle, then dealing with the Fae, and all the other magical creatures.

Nevertheless, soon that will be my reality.

Within a few hours, the news will spread. Celestia’s throne is restored to Good Queen Anne , just and victorious. Wronged, but triumphant. Of course, it will be a story—my citizens can never know the truth.

A queen who came back from the dead to retake her throne? Celestians are far too superstitious for that, too averse to dark magic. I’ll have to pretend I was held captive all this time. Kidnapped, held for ransom, lost at sea. We’ll cover it up, and it would all have to be…

“A lie,” I murmur. I’d live a lie until the end of my days.

“What’s that?” asks Domino.

“Queen Anne. There will be so many stories, but they won’t be about me. Not really.”

What’s left of my crew stands quiet. For some reason, I recall Prudence’s parting words. What will happen to them when I become queen? Will they stay, and give up their lives at sea? What if they don’t? What if they sail away and leave me?

And Robb? Would I get to be with him, the tattooed lieutenant from Rivelle? Or would I be forced into a political alliance with a crabby lord from Sinder who’s thirty years my senior?

Genevieve speaks. “There are multiple armies hunting Blackbeard. Every ally of William is on the lookout, with a high price on your head. It’ll take months for William’s armies and ships to hear of your demise. Your crew will need to hide out, at least for a little while.”

“But you’ll be Queen Anne, and Blackbeard will disappear.” Domino nods. “Exactly how we hoped it would be.”

Queen Anne. It doesn’t sound right. But Blackbeard? That name is as familiar as salt on my tongue.

“So, we all stay here. At court.” Samson bristles, the purple spines on his shoulders standing a little taller.

“Not as servants,” I mutter, my stomach tightening. “Advisors. You could be a true poet. A bard. Someone to sing to me when I am weary.”

He doesn’t seem excited about the idea, and oddly, neither am I.

Domino, Samson, Robb, Tremaine. They are all that is left of Blackbeard’s crew—and none of them look like they belong in this room. They’re vibrant, strong, weary. Sailors and survivors. Friends. They look like they could use a bath and a strong drink.

Running my thumb over the edge of the crown, I gently set it down, returning it to the windowsill overlooking the sea .

“Come on. We’re leaving,” I say, plucking my pistol from the floor and slipping it back into its sheath.

“What? Why?” Robb sounds genuinely distressed, goggles at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“What need do I have for a throne, when I can have the sea?” I stride across the throne room, black boots echoing.

“To wherever the fair winds take us.” Samson claps him on the shoulder.

Domino gives him a salute. “Lieutenant Maynard. It’s been a pleasure. Thanks for not being the bastard you could have been.”

Robb is still standing there, feet rooted by the throne. “You can’t go now, now that you’ve won.”

“There’s no rum,” Samson tells him. “And we hate the cold.”

Domino nods. “I’d rather sail by the light of the stars than stand in this marble hall.” She grins over at Genevieve. “No offense, Your Highness.”

I steel myself and then look at him. My lover, the man who helped me heal. “Are you with us, sailor? Or will you stay?”

His eyes are blue-green and endless as the sea. If he says no, those colors will haunt me until the end of my days; no horizon will ever be the same.

Robb’s gaze flicks to my face. “Are you asking me to be a pirate?”

I pick my rose dagger off the floor, flip it, and catch it by the blade. I extend it toward him, hilt first. “Honestly? I was thinking you could marry me.”

He knocks the blade aside. Sweeps me into his arms. Then Lieutenant Robb Maynard kisses me. Long, thorough, until my knees are weak and my head is fuzzy .

“Is that a yes ?” I finally manage once I can take a breath.

“I’m happy you’re finally acknowledging your undying love for me.”

Domino and Tremaine are elated, and he slings a friendly arm around her shoulders. Samson beams, blinking tearily.

I turn back to Genevieve, blushing. She’s holding my mother’s crown. It looks good there, finally resting in the right pair of hands.

“Are you sure of this, Anne?” she asks. “You’re Celestia’s rightful queen.”

I glance down at the scrap of parchment that Xandretta left for me. It still smells like the sea. Use it wisely.

And I know in my bones, from the depths of my soul, these words were meant for another woman. Not for me.