Page 16 of Escaping Pirates (Legends of Neverland #4)
“ A bout time,” Harsh growled as I emerged. “Dinner’s ready.”
I followed him, murmuring a quiet apology as I did so.
Most of the crew were lounging about, playing dice, strumming musical instruments, or else laughing with each other.
Though I’d passed through the galley several times to get food from the kitchens from Sugar and Blossom, I’d never eaten there.
The wooden table had been covered with a long cloth that hid the stains and cracks, and combined with all the lanterns, it gave the illusion that we were at some fine dining establishment for a candlelit dinner.
Moments after I entered, Harlan brushed past me, heading over to sit with Sugar and Blossom. As he passed, something was pressed into my palm. My fingers curled instantly around the small, cylindrical item, and the corner of my mouth lifted slightly as I tucked the cork into my pocket.
Sugar and Blossom were already sitting at one end of the table and eagerly gestured for Harlan to sit between them.
They each held the letters I’d helped them compose as they vied for his attention.
I glanced down once to ensure that the papers I’d stolen were still tucked well out of sight in this new dress. They were.
The moment he saw me, Tyrone stood and bowed low to kiss my hand. “There’s the beautiful girl I remember. What’s your name, my dear?”
“Elena,” I answered shortly while keeping my tone as polite as possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harlan go rigid, watching as Tyrone draped his arm around my waist to guide me to a seat. “Shall we begin?”
Finally allowed a proper meal, I took my time to eat slowly so I didn’t get overly full and feel nauseated like I had when Harlan had given me his meal the second day he was onboard.
My initial concerns that Tyrone would expect me to entertain him slipped away as he allowed me to eat while regaling the whole table with fascinating tales about people he’d met on his voyages.
At least he was an entertaining storyteller.
“Just last week, for example,” Tyrone said, animatedly talking with his hands. “I met Haven Harbor’s royal family, and you’ll never guess the argument I overheard between the siblings.”
My pang of homesickness was quickly eclipsed by curiosity. Prince Korth and Princess Tess had a great friendship. Was Tyrone making up a story, or was it true?
“What happened?” Harsh asked, tearing into a chicken leg.
“The prince was escorting his sister to that girls-only boarding school in Berkway, and word is that she didn’t want to leave because she was friends with some prisoner and didn’t want him to be alone.”
“It was a him ?” Sugar asked. “Were she and the prisoner in love or something? ”
“As far as I could tell, no. Just friends. But she worried that he would be lonely without her, and Korth lost his temper. He told her that it was that exact reason she was going to the boarding school, to get a better education and associate with higher society than Peter Pan.”
“Peter Pan? I’ve heard of him,” Blossom cut in. She threw a knowing look Harlan’s way so he was sure to notice her remarks. “Isn’t that the boy who was supposed to be executed for all those kidnappings and murders?”
“Tess gave him life in prison instead,” Tyrone told her. “Word is that Korth wasn’t at all happy about her decision and wanted to appeal it, but she said no. Aren’t you from Haven Harbor, Elena?”
“I am,” I told him, glad that I was being addressed by my proper name instead of Scurvyella .
“Have you met the royal family?”
“No. I’ve attended some of their speeches, so I’ve seen them, but I’ve never been introduced.”
“I’m sure they would have liked you if they’d met you,” Tyrone said, smiling pleasantly. “I met the prince’s fiancée some time ago when I transported her back to Ebora. She participated in the rebellion that overthrew King Raquel.”
“She sounds like an intimidating person, then.”
Tyrone took a sip from his goblet. “Not intimidating at first glance, but she’s a sly one. It’s no wonder she was able to come between Korth and his first fiancée.” Then he patted my hand. “But I don’t want to talk about other women. Elena, tell me about yourself. What hobbies do you have?”
As I told him, he listened intently, asking probing questions and displaying interest in everything I said. While it was still uncomfortable to be receiving such attention from a man twice my age, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be.
“I’d be glad to send a few more things over for you,” Tyrone told me, placing his hand over mine. “To keep you more comfortable until I see you again. My brother will ensure that you get to keep them, right, Harsh?”
“Naturally,” Harsh grunted back, looking as though he had no interest in keeping his word. Harlan had noticed our exchange and kept glancing at where Tyrone was touching me.
I pulled my hand out from under his. “I’m doing all right.
” I wasn’t sure what would happen if I began to accept presents from Tyrone, and as pleasant as he’d been that evening, I wasn’t fool enough to think a pirate would just give gifts with no expectation of getting something in return.
No comfort item was worth being indebted to a pirate.
“I have a few dresses that would look wonderful on you,” he pressed. “My nieces told me they want to have a dance soon, and I’d be glad to partner you.”
“I really don’t want to put you to any trouble,” I told him as Harsh glowered my way.
“I could give you a tour of my ship,” Tyrone offered. “The night is still young.”
My temporary complacency evaporated on the spot. “I’m sure it’s lovely, but I’m very tired,” I told him. “It’s been a long day.”
“Don’t be disrespect—” Captain Harsh began, but an alarm bell clanged loudly, cutting off the end of his rebuke.
“Kraken!” one of the sailors above shouted.
Sugar and Blossom both shrieked and clutched at Harlan’s arms while Tyrone and Harsh leapt to their feet and ran for the deck, leaving everyone else behind .
“Battle stations!” I heard Harsh bellow. “Steele, get those two to the brig; we don’t want any distractions!”
The kraken’s timing was impeccable, though I wasn’t sure if I would prefer being crushed in a kraken’s tentacles or enduring whatever Tyrone had in mind.
The brief glance I had before being escorted to the brig was of a few thin tentacles emerging from the ocean’s depths, not nearly as terrifying as the one in the stories about the siren hunter, who had battled one larger than any two ships.
“Get in,” Steele grunted, shoving Harlan between the shoulder blades to force him into his cell and pointed me into mine. I complied without protest, sitting on my bunk while Steele locked us in and sprinted back for the stairs.
“We’ll be fine,” Harlan immediately assured me. “My crew took out much larger krakens than the one out there.” Before I could answer, Harlan went on, “Do you know that man you were sitting with? Sugar and Blossom didn’t answer any of my questions.”
“He’s their uncle. His name is Tyrone.”
“He seems to have taken a fancy to you.” There was a bitterness in his voice. “Was he the one who tried to buy you?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I should’ve known,” Harlan snarled, sounding uncharacteristically mean. The ship pitched and I was launched off my bunk and staggered a few steps before righting myself.
“He was surprisingly well-mannered, to be honest.”
“Even the slimiest fish can look silver in certain lighting.”
The ship pitched again, and I clutched at the bars to steady myself as I gave a slight laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” I glanced nervously out the porthole to see a tentacle whip past. “Apparently, the best time for metaphors is during a kraken attack. You must be channeling your inner Blossom.”
“Well then, I have plenty to say about that Tyrone.”
“Are you going to compare him to a slippery eel? That’s the impression I get.”
Harlan grinned and placed his hands over mine on the bars. “I was going to say that a sailor smiles widest when he’s about to hook a fish.”
“Am I a fish now? I promise he wasn’t going to hook me.”
“He sure is trying.”
A strange sucking, slurping sound came from the privy hole in Harlan’s cell. I looked in that direction, wondering if the kraken shifting in the deep had moved under the ship, rather than around it.
Water sloshed across the floor of the brig, and then came a thud—heavy, wet, and much too close.
“Harlan?” I asked nervously.
He turned and gave a strangled yelp.
A thick, glistening tentacle snaked up through the tiny hole in the corner of Harlan’s cell. It writhed like something pulled straight from a nightmare, glistening with seawater and slime, and slapped against the floor with a squelch.
I screamed, and the tentacle surged forward.
Harlan shouted in alarm and stomped hard on it.
The thing recoiled, then lunged again, curling up toward his leg. Harlan leapt onto his bunk, nearly slipped, then jumped onto the tentacle and kept stomping like a man possessed. The tentacle slapped at him, twisting with unearthly intelligence and far too much persistence.
“You’re not supposed to come up from there, you disgusting thing!” Harlan barked, hopping around and still trying to stamp on it without falling over.
With one last shriek from the hull, the ship lurched hard to port. The tentacle wavered, then slid back down the hole with a sound like some giant person slurping up a noodle. It was gone.
Water dripped somewhere behind us, and footsteps pounded overhead.
Harlan stood frozen, breathing hard, one boot still lifted in the air, poised to strike.