Page 32 of Escaping Pirates (Legends of Neverland #4)

T he music in the palace’s ballroom was muffled, as if it had to force its way through the heavy velvet drapes and air thick with pipe smoke.

I kept my back straight, chin slightly lifted, trying not to visibly tremble as Tyrone steered me through the crowd with one hand firmly at the small of my back.

Much as I disliked his touch, I needed it to aid my balance.

I kept my knees bent instinctively, prepared for the lurches of the ship’s deck I’d become accustomed to, but the ground didn’t move.

My brain didn’t believe it. I kept feeling the phantom roll of the ocean in my bones, a ghost tide tugging at me and convincing me I was still listing back and forth.

I had wobbled all the way down from the dock.

“Your land legs will adapt. Now smile,” he murmured into my ear. “You look like a widow at her fourth funeral.”

I forced my lips into a tight curve, stomach twisting with each step I took.

My toes had been wedged into dazzling silver shoes so thin that they appeared to be glass, but as beautiful as they looked, the padding in the shoes was minimal, and the edges cut into my skin so sharply I kept imagining my heel being cut off.

The navy silk dress was one of the finest I’d ever worn, a true testament to Tyrone’s impeccable taste, and was stitched with shining silver embroidery.

A heavy necklace hung around my neck like a collar.

It felt like the kind of thing meant to say I belonged to someone, and tonight, that someone was Tyrone.

I may as well have been manacled for how far I was allowed to venture from him that evening.

Pirates might call this a ball, but it was like none I had ever attended.

Men with too many rings and too few morals lined the walls, sipping rum or gambling at the side tables.

There were women here too, but most eyed the men with a predatory gleam, seeming to calculate the net worth of each man before they pounced.

Tyrone leaned closer, breath warm against my temple. “You see the man with the striped sash? That’s Dargen, the captain of a rumrunner. He’s trying to break into Berkway’s trade routes. You’re going to help him believe he’s already halfway there.”

I turned my head slightly to look at the unfamiliar man. Dargen was speaking with a thin man in a suit of emerald velvet. He looked impatient and dangerous. Father never would have done business with a man like that.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked tonelessly. I was merely Tyrone’s puppet tonight, a role I would willingly play to protect Harlan for another day.

Tyrone guided me forward. “Whatever I tell you. Just nod, laugh, and act like your daddy will gladly sign on whatever deal I say.”

I stepped carefully, the shoes pinching at my toes and heels as my mind raced. If I made a single mistake or told the wrong lie, Tyrone wouldn't be the one to pay for it. Harlan would.

Tyrone plastered on his most charming smile as he reached the man. “Captain Dargen, a pleasure. Might I introduce Elena Arkwright, eldest daughter of the Arkwright shipping family out of Haven Harbor.”

I gave a slight curtsy, my pulse pounding.

Dargen looked me over with the disinterest of someone appraising a statue. “Arkwright, you say? Thought that family kept to their fancy manor houses and treaty papers. Didn’t know they let their daughters out among men such as yourself.”

“Only the useful daughters,” Tyrone returned smoothly. “Elena’s slated to inherit her father’s fleet, and with that, the ability to invest in some...creative ventures.”

Dargen’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

I smiled tightly. “It’s true. My father’s expanding his company, and he wants to partner with those who understand opportunity when they see it.”

“And you’re here to find them?”

Tyrone answered for me. “We’re looking for someone with reach and discretion. Someone who could help run goods through the Eastline shipping company without drawing too much attention.”

“Eastline’s an attractive option right now. The new republic has its eyes on every harbor.”

“Which is why you need someone with the kind of papers and legitimacy my future wife can offer.”

I stiffened at the words future wife but smiled like it was a compliment.

Dargen’s gaze slid to me. “Is that what you’re offering, sweetheart? A clean name on dirty sails?”

I held his eyes. “I’m offering a future that keeps your cargo moving and your enemies guessing.”

There was a pause. Then Dargen let out a short, barking laugh. “I’ll think about it. ”

Tyrone clapped him on the shoulder. “Do. But don’t take too long. Arkwright investment doesn’t wait.”

As they walked away, Tyrone leaned down again. “Well done. You’ll make a pirate yet.”

I kept my face neutral, but inside, I was screaming.

We continued to make the rounds for another hour.

Tyrone kept me close, steering me away from certain captains whose eyes lingered too long and whose presence made my skin crawl.

Once, he even intercepted a man mid-approach, Tyrone’s tone sharp enough to draw blood.

I was constantly torn between gratitude and terror.

Even if Tyrone was merely staking his claim, he still was at least hospitable to me whenever he wasn’t blackmailing me.

The silver shoes were agony on my feet, and I developed a slight limp as the night wore on.

Tyrone leaned in again. “Final stop, then we disappear. There’s a man near the dais, black coat, red trim. Baron Kest. He handles trade insurance. We want him to believe the Arkwrights are willing to underwrite Dargen’s next fleet.”

I nodded numbly, in too much pain to care.

We approached the baron, who looked more like a gluttonous banker than a pirate. “Good evening, Tyrone,” he greeted us cordially. “If you’re here about the smuggler ship that was raided…”

“No, no, I have a new proposition for you,” he said, and launched into a long string of pleasantries and compliments. I smiled, laughed at the right times, and would occasionally interject things like “Yes, my father’s quite interested in new ventures,” when Tyrone squeezed my hand.

“And what about you?” Kest asked me after Tyrone finished his lengthy explanation of his business proposition. “Do you believe in these ventures? ”

Tyrone's hand tightened around me.

“Only the ones worth believing in.”

Kest laughed. “Spoken like a true merchant.”

When we finally stepped away, Tyrone guided me over to where drinks and appetizers were laid out on a long table.

“You did well,” Tyrone hissed in an undertone.

I said nothing. After escorting me while I got food, Tyrone helped me into a chair with surprising gentleness. I sat, and the moment that the weight was off my feet, the newly developed blisters began pulsing hot, swelling my feet so they hurt worse than ever.

“Relax,” a thin blonde woman was telling a masked, dark-haired man who could have passed for a statue.

“Relax in this company?” The man returned, his posture rigid and straight-backed. “They’re all thieves and rebels, Dahlia. How can you be so calm?”

“Careful there. You’re engaged to a rebel, remember?” she teased him, tugging on his doublet so he was forced to lean down and kiss her. His shoulder relaxed a fraction of an inch.

“You’re different, though. You aren’t like…Peter Pan or someone like that.”

At the mention of the name, my ears perked up. As he turned, even with his mask on, I recognized him. It was Prince Korth from Haven Harbor. My heart soared. I’d forgotten about the scandal when he’d gotten engaged to a rebel from Ebora. Now, he was here. He could help.

“Tess adores him. They’re great friends.” The blonde woman smiled indulgently and sipped from her goblet.

“ Were friends,” the man corrected. “I couldn’t get her to finishing school fast enough to get her away from him.”

“You’ll need to write and tell her that he escaped, you know,” Dahlia told him. “She’d want to know. ”

“I know,” the man sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “But I’d rather have him back behind bars as soon as possible.”

Desperately trying to catch his eye, I tried to focus all my energy into the intensity of my gaze, wishing I could burn a hole into the side of his head. He wouldn’t recognize me, but if I could just pass a message to him without Tyrone stopping me…

“Don’t even think about it,” Tyrone hissed quietly into my ear. “One word from you, and lover boy becomes chum.” His grip around my wrist tightened. “Say nothing. And remember, if we don’t return tonight, Flint has been told to set off the flare. That boy of yours is living on borrowed time.”

Prince Korth didn’t notice us, but his fiancée, Dahlia, did. As she spotted Tyrone, her face tightened and her lips pursed into a thin line.

Tyrone bowed low and touched his fingertips first to his earlobe, then lips, and finally to his forehead. He silently mouthed some words, but I couldn’t distinguish what he was trying to say. It obviously made sense to Dahlia, though she didn’t return the gesture.

Tyrone began to move away, trying to drag me with him, but Dahlia called out to him. “Captain, a moment.”

This was my chance. If I blurted out my predicament and had them arrest Tyrone on the spot, it could possibly save Harlan…or put him in a worse spot.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Tyrone told her smoothly, his charming personality back in place. “I heard the news and was thrilled for you. A throne is much better than a prison cell, isn’t it?”

Dahlia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You always did know how to make a girl feel appreciated,” she said, her voice sweet as sugared poison. Her gaze flicked briefly to me. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Tyrone’s grip tightened. “She’s my guest, and she doesn’t like parties.”

Dahlia arched a brow. “Strange place for someone who doesn’t like parties. What is your name, guest?”

“Her name is—” Tyrone began.

“Let her speak for herself,” Prince Korth cut in.

Tyrone’s fingers pulsed around my hand in a warning. “Go on, Leia.”

“I’m…Leia.” I dared a glance at Dahlia, hoping she could see the fear in my eyes, the silent scream beneath my stillness.

“Leia, your lip stain is smudged,” Dahlia told me casually, whipping out her silk handkerchief and leaning in to blot at a spot on the side of my mouth.

My heart sank. Did she not understand after all?

“Do you need more? You can have mine.” She handed me a thin tube of rouge along with the slightly stained handkerchief.

“This is my fiancé, Prince Korth of Haven Harbor. Do you know him?”

“We’ve never met, but I’ve seen you and your sister before,” I told him while Tyrone’s nails dug into the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Korth told me, and he turned his gaze to Tyrone. “Remind me who you are.”

“Captain Tyrone Renshaw. I helped your lovely fiancée about a year ago when she needed an escape. I believe she was intended for the gallows before that.” He met Korth’s gaze with a challenging one of his own. “She owes me her life.”

“You were compensated for your efforts by the rebellion,” Dahlia said dismissively. “I owe you nothing.”

Tyrone’s jaw locked. “It’s dangerous to burn bridges. ”

Dahlia smirked. “I don’t mind doing so. I can swim. Besides, burning bridges will often light the path ahead.”

Tyrone's eyes narrowed and Korth looked thoroughly discomfited.

“Thank you for your help,” I told her, trying to hand back the handkerchief and tube.

“Keep it,” she told me, keeping her eyes locked on Tyrone. “You need it more than I do.”

She and Korth left, and it was only by thinking of Harlan that I managed not to shout after them.

“Let’s go,” Tyrone snarled, dragging me along as we made our way out of the ballroom and down the sweeping staircase. His grip was going to leave bruises. The music swelled behind us, a false note of elegance against the panic racing through my chest.

I stumbled, just slightly, and sucked in my breath from the pain.

He kept me upright. “What?”

“My shoe,” I said breathlessly. “It’s rubbing my heel raw. I just need a second, please.”

He looked me over, calculating. “Fine. Make it fast.”

I lowered myself onto the steps, letting my shadow shield my movements. My fingers shook as I pulled Dahlia’s silk handkerchief from my sleeve. Clutching the small vial of rouge, I scrawled quickly on the inside of the handkerchief in trembling letters:

I folded the cloth and tucked it deep into the toe of the shoe, then slipped it back on, except I didn’t push my heel all the way in.

“Let’s go.” Tyrone bent to clamp his hand around my arm.

I stood, and as Tyrone pulled me down the rest of the steps, I let my shoe slip free behind me.

There was the faintest tinkle as it came to rest, and I faked a sneeze to mask the sound.

I looked back once, heart pounding, as we disappeared into the shadows of an alleyway.

The slipper gleamed faintly on the bottom steps of the stairway.

I stumbled, but Tyrone’s grip kept me balanced. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Blisters.”

He nodded sympathetically. “We’ll see to them back at the ship. You’ll live.”

And maybe, just maybe, Harlan would too.

And that was worth every blister.