Page 45

Chapter 45

Kaneko

I strained to see through the filthy cloth tied about my head, but it was useless.

Sounds assaulted my ears: the crash of waves, men shouting in the distance, the snap of pennants tossed on brisk winds. The slightest hint of commotion sparked frightful images in my mind. I couldn’t help reliving the fear that coursed through me as wild men dragged me from my home. Again and again, I saw the pirates aboard The Worm , their leers, the way they wanted to punch or stab—or worse.

Somewhere near the edge of the village, where farms met jungle, I surrendered to my fate and gave up struggling. My hands and feet were tied with rough rope, and my body swung limply as meaty shoulders hauled me toward some unseen end.

I couldn’t see those we passed. I was sure villagers must’ve witnessed my kidnapping. Still, no one raised a single word of alarm, much less offered help. Most of the islanders called the place home only after their own experience with wakō justice. None would risk themselves for yet another captive.

My rational mind couldn’t blame them. Another part of me simmered at their cowardice.

The sound of men groaning against the weight of their work grew louder.

Finally, the lug carrying me halted, and a deep baritone spoke.

“Put him in the cabin next to mine and lock it. One of you stand guard at all times. Do not touch him.”

I knew that voice. I was sure of it, but my head was foggy from the blow I’d taken, and recognition refused to come.

Before I could clear my mind, my captor began moving again. His rough grip and careless jostling eased into a gentler cradle—if being carried on a pirate’s shoulders could be called such. I felt us descend several stairs, then cried out when my head smacked into hardened planks.

“Sorry,” the pirate grumbled.

A moment later, I was tossed onto what felt like a mattress. I heard the pirate pull a blade from a scabbard, then felt the cords binding my hands and feet fall away. A moment later, the door slammed shut, and I heard the squeal of a bolt sliding into place.

I reached up and yanked the cloth from my eyes.

The only light in the tiny cabin leaked in from a crack beneath the ill-fitted door, barely enough to make out the bed on which I lay, a leather trunk, and a lone chair bolted to the floor in the opposite corner. In two tiny strides, I’d traversed the room.

I threw myself back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Between the terror of being recaptured, fear over Irie’s fate, and having my head banged against the hard wood of the ship, my mind was foggy, and my head throbbed. Staring up at the dingy ceiling, I drifted into a fitful sleep.