Page 69 of Bloody Black
“Dominion! Where are the rings?” Tremaine curses, wiping his brow. “Gods’ bones, you can’t trust Fae with anything.”
Tremaine is the only one who uses her full name. And now he calls me Annie, no matter how many times I tell him to stop.
“Stop fidgeting, Lieutenant Maynard.” My gaze flicks over to Robb. “You look fine.”
He is, of course, fitter and tanner than ever. The cut of his jacket is tight over his brawny shoulders, and he’s so sweet to me that I could eat him with a spoon.
In response, Robb smiles nervously. Straightens his cravat.
Cravat. He’s wearing a cravat and a coat, profusely sweating. He insisted on shaving and cutting his hair.
A balmy breeze blows over us, and down the hill, the sun sets over the harbor.
Above us are fresh white sails, etched in gold, tethered to olive wood masts.
The olive tree, especially chosen by me, for strength, forgiveness, and longevity.
I named my new ship Xandretta. She’s sleek and fast and free.
The reward of months of my hard work and Robb’s planning.
After defeating William, we sailed straight to Venedria, hiding the Queen Anne’s Revenge in a quiet harbor on a calm morning.
Despite what he’d said, Robb couldn’t quite bring himself to burn it.
Tremaine would come back for her later, when the time was right.
The entire way, I kept waiting for everyone to talk me out of it.
To order me to turn the ship around, march back into that throne room, to reclaim my birthright and don my crown.
No one did. No one said anything of the sort.
But perhaps that was because we were all grieving.
Holly died of infection seven days after Teach, a merciful fever that meant she died in her sleep. For once, I was exactly where I should be: holding her hand. I refused to leave her for more than a few seconds and spent those final days sleeping on the floor, right next to her.
We buried them at sea, off the coast of an island with pink sand beaches and swaying palm trees. Domino and I, uncontrollably weeping, wrapped them in the same shroud. It was what they would have wanted.
By the time we arrived at Ben’s doorstep, I was emotionally exhausted, and I collapsed in his arms the moment I saw his face. Maybe he would be the one who questioned my sanity. Talk sense. Insist.
He didn’t do that either. Instead, Ben let me ruin his shirt with my snotty face and teary eyes, and then gazed over my shoulder at the bizarre group who’d come along with me.
“I suppose you’re her lover now?” he announced, staring Robb down like a criminal.
“You knew I would be.” Robb held out his hand, bedecked with silver rings .
Much to my shock, Ben pulled him in and hugged us both. The two men embraced around me, and in Ben’s eyes was a look of relief. “You two kids…”
As Robb hugged him back, it was immediately clear who Robb’s mentor was: Ben.
Ben must have taught him to sword fight, and it must have been Ben who told him so much about me.
Ben must have talked him into trying to stop William.
To no one’s surprise but mine, I’d been wrong about everything.
With a broken sob, I clung to them both.
Domino interrupted the weeping and hugging, elbowing her way forward with her characteristic grin. “Excuse me, sir. Mr. Hornigold–what a bizarre name by the way… Do you mind if I call you Ben? We’re in need of a place to hide, a new boat, and also, food. Do you bake?”
He tried, but he’d never made bread in his life, a fact which we realized when he burned down half his house three days later.
Jolly ole Roger served his purpose just fine. Robb handed over his head and lied without blinking, telling Lord Spotswood that it was the famed Blackbeard. The story he came up with was widely believed, aided by Genevieve:
William killed Anne after discovering her infidelity. Blackbeard, also known as Edward Teach, was a former soldier who loved Anne from afar. Embracing our lies, the townspeople put that head on a pike and celebrated.
Indeed, my second funeral was the most famous I’d ever been.
I wish Teach could see my wedding gown. Wish Holly could be here, fussing with our hair and mothering .
Samson clears his throat. “We are gathered here…” he pauses. Sniffles.
“For the momentous…” Inhale.
“Occasion, and…” he wipes his eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“Oh, for gods’ sake. You’ve been quoting sonnets at us for three years, but you can’t hold it together long enough to marry them?”
Domino snatches the parchment out of his hand, skims it, balls it up, and tosses it over our ship rail.
“Do you, Robb, lieutenant, incorrigible flirt, vile betrayer, and turncoat, want to marry her?”
“I do.” His green eyes meet mine. “I vow to spend the rest of my life loving you. Putting our pasts behind us.”
“Terrific. And do you, Anne, or Blackbeard, scourge of the seas, a person with unspeakable trust issues and far too many weapons under that wedding gown, want to marry him, the man who wrecked your life entirely?”
Tremaine bites his knuckle as he fights not to laugh.
“Most definitely.” I smile, gripping my bundle of white rosebuds tightly.
“Then please kiss, so we can all start drinking.”
Robb pulls me in by the waist the second Domino declares us wed, his mouth firm against mine. “Finally,” he whispers against my lips, one hand squeezing my hip. “Mine.”
The word still makes my knees weak, even though he says it all the time.
My new husband nuzzles me. “No matter where you go, I’ll never leave you. In every kingdom, under every moon, I’ll be right beside you.”
“You two are ridiculous.” Tremaine hauls out a ridiculously large jug of rum.
Everyone grabs a glass, everyone but me, and we gather around a table, taking our seats.
“Wait. You’re not drinking?” Tremaine looks so shocked, it is almost better than beating him at swords. “Are you with child?” he demands, as if I’m some wayward Jezebel.
“What if I am?” I ask, with a saucy grin.
“She is not with child,” Robb tells the crew. Then he pauses. Ponders. “Wait. You’re not, right?”
I’m not, but I do love making him squirm, so I shrug and put up my feet.
Ben swats my big black boots with his hand, knocking them off the table. “Mind your manners, pirate,” he commands.
“Mind your business, soldier, ” I retort, flashing him a crooked smile as I pour myself a glass of water.
The truth is, I have many plans for our wedding night, and I don’t want to be fuzzy-headed or drunk for any of them. I want to rewrite all of my memories, and Robb is going to help me.
I propose a toast. “To our friends, alive and dead.” Then, because it feels right, I continue. “To the victors go the spoils. And to the losers, the scars.”
Samson ponders. “The funny thing about that saying is that we were wrong. Even victors have wounds. These, we carry forever. But we continue on despite them. That’s how we win.”
After we toast, Robb swirls the rum in his glass, while Tremaine serves the cake. It’s pink, over-adorned with frosting, and has so much lemon I can smell it from several feet away .
“This is interesting,” Robb murmurs, breaking the silence, but he’s smiling, his lips grazing my shoulder in a kiss.
He’s such a good man. I smile quietly, thinking of the jar of shark teeth down in our stateroom. He’s always finding them for me, and all because Ben told him years ago how I liked them.
Domino crosses her arms over her chest. “I made it with love.”
“It’s better than the last one,” Tremaine reassures her. “Improves every time.”
“I think it’s terrific,” Ben says, choking down his second piece.
“Really?” Domino preens. “You like it?” Then she gives Ben such a radiant smile that it brings a blush to his cheeks.
“So, dear Captain, what course shall we pursue?” asks Samson.
“Well…” Tremaine smiles suggestively. “There is this dickhead named Jonas Larew.”
Domino leans in like a conspirator. “He needs an ass kicking, and so does his crew.”
“Argh, that rhyming again,” I shake my head.
Robb frowns at his plate. “So much for our honeymoon.”
“That did not rhyme,” Domino announces. “You lose.”
“Do you think anyone will ever know the truth?” Ben asks. “The story of Princess Anne and the pirate Blackbeard?”
Samson shrugs. “Those who would say, their tongues are still.”
William and Soren, Venka, Roger, Teach and Holly, Mercy.
The list of the dead is as long as my arm, and none of them will ever share my story.
Yet, who can tell what the years might yield?
Destiny is strange, and as Prudence always said, justice is a bitch, keen for a reckoning.
Truth has a way of resurfacing, even when you’ve locked it away .
My thumb strokes along the golden rose petals of my dagger. “Perhaps the world will never hear of Anne or Blackbeard. After all, dead men tell no tales.”
Domino puts her arm around me. “Aye, Captain. Dead men tell no tales. But with women, you never know.”
THE END