Page 16

T he hinges creak as the door continues to swing, never fully closing.

More shouts ring from outside. We’re either being pursued or Grayson is about to plunder another ship.

Grabbing my bloodied tunic off the bed, I grit my teeth and pull it over my head and slip my arms through. The fabric pulls at my stitches but I pay it no mind as I sheathe my dagger and head out the door.

Tommy is nowhere to be found as I make my way through Grayson’s quarters and open his door.

A bright assault from the sun has me shielding my eyes.

Blinking, they finally adjust and I see the crew organizing themselves for what appears to be an attack, given that the quartermaster is yelling at them to man the guns.

Warm wind licks through my untucked tunic as I move to the starboard side.

There’s a medium-sized ship with limited gun ports.

Squinting, I can see the black isn’t raised.

It’s probably a merchant ship sailing west of the Narrow’s Passage on its way back from the Northern Realm.

The Caelestia will catch up to her in no time.

She’s hugging the sandy banks of the coast and the wind is in our favor.

Keeping to the side of the ship, I head toward the quarterdeck. The crew is more organized than most other I’ve seen, especially in a time of pursuit. Most of the men must be lifelong sailors with how readily they man their stations.

Taking the stairway up to the quarterdeck, the breeze grows stronger without the cover of the wood walls below.

I’m greeted with a fowl look from Grayson’s quartermaster.

I return it with a scowl of my own. Grayson is eyeing the distant ship with a spyglass and noting course adjustments to his helmsman below.

My knees bend with the turn of the ship as the helmsman maneuvers us starboard side.

When Grayson lowers the spyglass, his gaze settles on me and he smirks. “You’ve decided to join us.”

“I like to see what I’m up against. The last thing I want is to die from some merchant ship’s cannon fire blasting a hole through my room. A room, I might add, that has no windows. I wouldn’t even see my death coming.”

“And that’s what you desire, Rowenya Stone? To see your death coming?” he asks, his voice low. Crow’s feet spread along the edge of his right eye as he closes it, and peers through the spyglass again. Satisfied with our course, he lowers it. “Most men would run from the chance to know their fate.”

I raise my chin. “I’m not a man.”

Those eyes rake me up and down. A blush stains my cheeks. I will it away to no avail.

“You most certainly are not.”

“Captain, it would better suit us if the captive stayed below deck once we near the prize,” his quartermaster says, not bothering to even look at me.

He’s tall and slender. The perfect body of a skilled marksman, giving him the agility he needs to make a quick kill with his throwing knives.

His blond hair is cropped short on the sides, with a sweeping wave of longer locks that run down the middle of his head.

At first glance, he looks perfectly normal. Quite handsome, even.

But the longer I stare at his eyes, I see the hardened nature of them.

There is nothing soft or giving about this man. The blight of death lingers around him like a stain he can’t get rid of.

Blythe may have scars that fill his entire body representing each kill he has made, but something tells me the man standing before me has more kills than Blythe could acquire in an entire lifetime.

I move to stand next to him, glancing toward the shoreline where the opposing ship finally raises its flag—it hails the colors of Esoros, white and royal blue, with the ancient lion’s crest nestled in the center.

The last thing this man needs is an inflated ego with one more person cowering in his presence.

It doesn’t matter how many people he’s killed with those throwing knives.

I won’t be one of them. At least not while I am still of use to his captain.

And some part of me relishes in knowing that he can’t touch me.

“This captive has a name,” I tell him. “And if you are after a fight with that merchant ship, I can assure you, I am much better use on deck than I am locked away in a room.”

He snarls.

I just smile back.

Grayson takes a step toward us and I instinctively take a step back, my hand falling to my dagger. His gaze drops to my hand and his lips quirk upward.

“You two have yet to be formally introduced and you’ve already made enemies of one another. I think this will be quite entertaining for me.”

I point straight at his quartermaster. “ He’s the one making enemies. I haven’t said a single word to him and he already wants to cast me to the side like I’m some sniveling noble blood incapable of fighting.”

His quartermaster turns to me and I take note of the row of throwing daggers that line his vest. Given the way he’s looking at me right now, I imagine he’s already engraved my name on one of them.

“ You ? Fight ? Is that why we found you at the end of Blythe’s sword on the docks?

He had already killed your friend and you were certain to be next. ”

Without a moment of thought, I slap him across the face.

My hand stings violently from the hard impact.

Red hazes my vision as he slowly turns his head back to look at me.

If there was death in his eyes before, there is nothing but murderous intent dancing amongst them now.

As I reach for my dagger, his hand moves swiftly to one of the throwing knives tucked into his vest.

It will come down to mere seconds. Whoever strikes first will have the final word and I am going to make sure he can never speak of Raven’s death again.

My blade slashes through the air, but before I have a chance to slit his throat, a sword slices between us, coming down on my dagger.

A shrill ring sounds out as the metal clashes.

The quartermaster keeps his throwing knife ready, but he makes no move to strike.

I turn toward Grayson, who has his gaze set firmly upon me.

There is no light that could ward away the darkened shadows that sweep across his face as his narrowed eyes turn to slits.

Knowing neither one of us are a match for him , I lower my dagger, but his quartermaster doesn’t back down.

“Lower your weapon, Zaos.”

Zaos. So the bastard does have a name .

“Captain, she struck first.” Zaos’s cold eyes flicker for a moment, as though his captain’s words are a stark betrayal against everything they stand for.

Grayson tilts his head at Zaos. His voice is calm as he says, “What kind of male would I be if I let you cut her on her first day with us?”

Zaos sneers at me and for a moment I wonder if he will heed his captain’s order or if the killer in him is too dominant to care, consequences be damned.

Then he takes a step back and sheathes his throwing knife.

I quietly let out the breath I was holding.

“As much as I’m enjoying this little show between the two of you, we are about to come upon a prize and I don’t want more blood on my decks than is necessary.

” Grayson’s attention shifts to me. My gaze settles on his lips for a second too long, and I refrain from rolling my eyes at the smirk that tilts them upward.

“Rowenya, you are new to this ship, so you will walk away with one more warning. We do not fight amongst ourselves and there are consequences if you do. The next time you lay a hand on someone, they will have the right to deliver a blow back. And there will be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Turning away from him, I look out across the water, hating every step I’ve made that has led me to this very moment.

Hating that I am amongst them and not journeying with my crew to our reward of freedom.

The debts my father incurred with Red Beard are miniscule compared to the trap I’ve fallen into with Grayson and his men.

There is nowhere for me to go. I am completely at his mercy.

Suddenly, the Caelestia feels stifling, despite her being the largest pirate ship known in the pirate’s fleet.

“Zaos, go check on the men below deck. Ensure they’re ready to strike.”

“Yes, Captain.” He nods before giving me a scathing look on his way down the stairs.

When he’s out of earshot, Grayson says, “You’re lucky he’s learned to engage in self-control.” He stands at my side, extending his arms over the railing. “If you had tempted him a few years ago, your corpse would be a mess on my deck right now.”

The fury over my poor circumstances mixed with Zaos’s insult toward Raven still hums in my veins.

And I know it’s not because of his words, but because of my actions that led her to being killed.

A fact I have not allowed myself to think about for too long.

A fact that would devour me whole if I let it.

Burying it deep in the recesses of my mind, I settle my hands on the wooden railing, letting the warmth of the wood from the morning sun seep into my skin. A momentary distraction from the war that rages in my mind.

“I guess it is a good thing for you that he has learned to leash the monster lurking beneath, given that you are still in need of something I possess.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look my way, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead at the strong sails and the men working the rig.

“It is true. Your knowledge of the old language is something I require to succeed on this quest.” He huffs a breath. “I just hope you won’t get yourself killed by a member of my crew before you have the chance to fulfill my need of you.”

I turn toward him and stare into the hard planes of his face wondering how someone so devastatingly beautiful can be so cruel.

His dark brows pinch for a moment, like he’s trying to read what I might say next.

“And once your need is fulfilled . . . What then? You’ll toss me to your crew? Let them have their way with me?”