A Pirate’s Life for Tea (Tomes & Tea #2)

15. Reyna

Chapter fifteen

Reyna

T he rest of the night, the crew of the Knot for Sail were riding high. Farley and Rankor took turns navigating—apparently, they each dabbled in each other’s trades. Late in the evening, just south of Diarn Arlon’s estate, Serina directed them onto a partition of the river narrow enough to fool Reyna into believing they’d left the grand Nacean behind.

“This section is nearly impossible to find unless you’re looking,” Serina said as they cruised underneath towering pine trees. “It meets back up just a little ways upstream, but it should be a safe place to anchor for the night.”

The moon was starting to wane, which meant their shining silver light was dimming with every passing day. In turn, the stars the Sheparans revered were glowing brighter and brighter. Serina lit a few lanterns on deck, and they dragged the wooden table out from the captain’s quarters for their first meal as a crew.

Squirrel slipped between them like—well, a squirrel. She’d softened some dried meats in boiling water and spiced them to perfection, then cooked up carrots as a side dish. Reyna produced three bottles of her precious Koll wine, and the adults helped themselves.

Soon, they were laughing and chatting like they’d known each other all their lives. Darlene was fascinated with Reyna, leaning over herself to hear stories of her escapades.

“The queen? Queen Tilaine ? I’m shocked you weren’t killed.”

Reyna was so tired of being ashamed of her past, and here was someone who was impressed, awed, not scorned or afraid. With the wine tickling her brain, loosening her tongue, Reyna leaned over the table dramatically. “We almost were. It’s treason to leave the queen’s employ. I’m the first palace guard to escape.”

“No way.” Darlene gaped. “Did you kill anyone?”

Reyna took a demure sip of her wine, aware that Joe was listening too. “That’s a story for another time.”

Darlene slumped back in her seat, and the conversation progressed. After a while, Reyna wound up talking with Farley and Rankor. Their navigator swelled with the attention. “I’m from Leonol. Born and raised. Farley came to study our use of carpentry—nowhere better to learn than cities built in the trees, after all.”

“Too humid for me.” Farley poured another glass of wine. She seemed to prefer the reds more than the sweeter whites, and her smile grew wider the more she drank. “But there is something to their meritocracy. The smartest, most proven folk lead. Their university has some of the best courses I’ve ever seen—and the strangest.”

“My favorite was archeology,” Rankor said. “Digging up bones of ancient magical beasts and old civilizations. We even found dragon remains in our jungle.”

Reyna’s eyes widened. “Incredible.”

Later, Squirrel whisked away her plate and tapped her shoulder. “Reyna, will you follow me with the dishes? Once we clear off the table, we can start the music.”

“Music?”

Serina, at the head of the table, laughed boisterously. Now that she was able to relax, she drank with the best of them, and had produced a bottle of amber liquid from Diarn Arlon’s old room. “’Course there’s music! Pil told me the Dastardly Dreggs has dancing parties every Stars-damned night. Can’t let them show me up. I’d be a shit pirate captain.”

“I play the fiddle,” Joe said solemnly.

Darlene rolled her eyes.

Squirrel grinned, then led Reyna below deck, arms laden with food. The staircase to the galley was narrower than Reyna expected, and she had a newfound respect for how Squirrel had carted up all these dishes. The galley itself was just a small space underneath the cargo hold, with enough room for a tiny countertop and barrels of what appeared to be flour, salt, and sugar. Long wooden shelves along the back wall had been built with a metal bar to hold the cans in place during turbulent waters.

Reyna set the dirty dishes in a large washing tin, and realized Squirrel was staring at her.

Scowling, actually.

She frowned back. “Is something wrong?” Her sword was on deck, but Reyna was hardly worried about an attack by this older woman. Nothing up to this point had pinned her as any kind of threat.

“These are good folk,” Squirrel said.

“I agree,” Reyna replied, suspicious now.

“Don’t give me that tone. I’m from Mercon. Born there, fled west over the bay to Jallin while I was young enough to adopt the Sheparan accent.” Squirrel’s eyes were hard, untrusting. “I know all about the Queensguard. I know what you’ve done.”

Reyna had spent many nights in the dark, shivering at the memories of the people she killed. Wondering about their families, their hobbies, their favorite kind of tea. She remembered every single face—and yet, she never had the luxury of ignoring her orders.

Either they died… or she did.

She crossed her arms, voice neutral. “I wasn’t lying when I said I fled Her Excellency’s service. If I weren’t engaged to the Arcandor, she would have killed me for treason last summer. The very fact that I’m standing here should prove that story’s truth.”

“I believe the story. I doubt the intention.” Squirrel began washing dishes, rinsing the metal plates with a quick pass of a wet rag. “The Queensguard is unforgiving. I saw how you fought today. What happens when you decide to turn on this crew?”

That hurt more than Reyna cared to admit. She closed herself off, smoothed her face so Squirrel couldn’t see her pain. “I swore to protect this crew, and I will.”

“Hmm. For our sake, I hope that’s true.”

Reyna swallowed a retort. “If that’s all, Squirrel, I’ll be returning to the festivities.” She waited, but their cook didn’t seem to have an opinion on that. Reyna began to climb the narrow steps, but paused to say, “Just remember, not everyone was lucky enough to sail west. Some of us didn’t have a choice.”

And she left the old woman alone.

Things passed in a blur after that. Reyna drank more wine, but never enough to dull her senses to the point of allowing Squirrel an opening. The cook came and went, danced for a short while, but wouldn’t look Reyna in the eyes after that. Eventually, the kids went to bed, Farley and Rankor retired, and it was just Serina, Reyna, and Pil left on deck. The night had deepened and the chilly air was alive with the sound of crickets and the gentle glow of lantern flies.

“You said you’re a teamaker?” Serina asked.

Reyna swallowed a yawn. “Amongst other things.”

“You know, the diarn orders a special blend from the Boiling Isles. There’s a flower that only grows on their tallest mountain, and it’s supposed to taste like lavender and honey. They mix it with some kind of black tea that wakes you up.”

“A mate,” Reyna said, perking up. “Do you have some?”

Serina grinned in response and vanished into the captain’s quarters. A few minutes later, she returned with a tea kettle and a small burlap bag of gorgeous-smelling tea. Reyna set the water to boil over one of their lanterns and partitioned out tiny cloth bags to steep.

Vividly, she missed New Leaf Tomes and Tea, missed the copper kettle she’d always used to heat her water, missed Gossley wiping tables while Kianthe showed Matild and Tarly the newest romance novel.

“I love wine,” Reyna said, “but there’s something about a nice cup of tea.”

“I love tea, but there’s something about stolen tea from Arlon’s personal stash.” Serina cackled wickedly.

Reyna set the tea bags into each of their mugs, letting them steep. She almost suggested retrieving honey or sugar from the galley, but she didn’t want to see Squirrel anymore tonight. Once everyone had a steaming cup, Reyna settled back into her chair, inhaling deeply. It really did smell divine, and a quick taste proved why Diarn Arlon special-ordered it.

Delicious.

Quiet moments slipped past. All three of them seemed content to admire the stars, appreciate the cold weather, and hunch under their cloaks with stolen tea.

Finally, Serina glanced at Pil. “What led you to Dreggs’ ship?”

He shrugged. “Bit of work here and there. Dreggs offers the crew of any ship they attack to join their side instead. Half the ships in their fleet are just sailors agreeing to fly under a different flag. My chance came, and I figured, why the hells not?”

Serina chuckled.

Now Pil took a deep swig of his tea. “And what are you doing out here, Captain? Not every day we hear of pirates on the Nacean.”

“I just…” Serina sighed. “I want things to be different. My family moved from Lathe when I was a kid, and I was so angry about it. I spent a decade convincing myself that moving back to Lathe, farming the family land—that was my path.” She laughed, but the sound was dark, bitter. “I finally got my chance. Not the family land; that was gone. But he offered me a barren patch of soil so far inland that shipping to the riverfront ate nearly all my profits.”

“How kind,” Reyna drawled.

The pirate shrugged. “Yeah, well. Turns out, I’m as bad at farming as everything else in life. No surprise Arlon ordered my land reclaimed.”

“But a pirate? Doesn’t make much sense, career-wise.” Pil quirked an eyebrow.

Serina finished her tea in another large gulp. “Hey. I already had a ship. It was either working for Arlon—or stealing from him. Seemed like an obvious choice.”

They laughed at that. Once all the tea was gone, the three of them hauled the long table back into the captain’s quarters, stowed his tea in a wardrobe behind it, and bid each other goodnight. As Reyna was climbing into her hammock near the small staircase, Pil clapped her shoulder.

“I saw Squirrel pull you aside. Just want you to know, me and my family? We judge by actions, not history… and so far, you seem okay to me.” He offered a kind smile and climbed into the hammock above Joe, who was fast asleep.

Reyna blew out the lantern, getting comfortable in her own bed.

Maybe one day, she’d believe that.

They continued sailing north the next day, with everyone in good spirits. Despite her statement earlier, Squirrel didn’t seem to hold any grudge against Reyna—or at least, none she could physically see. That almost made it more dangerous. But then again, Squirrel spent most of her time below deck, and Reyna couldn’t get enough of climbing around the sails.

She followed Darlene and Joe across the lines, watching how they tied knots, asking questions about which sail worked best for which scenario. Both of them had an incredible sense for the shifting winds and which sails should be lowered to take full advantage. When Reyna asked, “Did either of you work on Dreggs’ ship, or just your father?” Joe leveled an unimpressed stare her way.

“You really think we’d be allowed on Dreggs’ ship? We’re kids.”

Reyna swallowed a laugh at their condescending tone and kept future questions to herself.

She’d just handed Darlene her sword for a quick practice session when Rankor whistled from the helm. “Ah, Captain? We have a problem.”

Serina was at his side in moments, and Reyna wasn’t far behind. “What is it?”

“Maybe nothing,” Rankor said, his expression grim. “But there’s at least four ships hidden around this bend. It almost looks like a blockade. And after what we did yesterday, I’m wondering if word traveled that fast.”

Serina whipped out her spyglass, squinting through the trees.

Reyna, meanwhile, didn’t need a spyglass to identify the problem. Because Rankor was right—she could see two distinct shapes lurking in the shadows behind the trees, and two more on the opposite side of the river. A mix of ship sizes, but all looked intimidating, and she was fairly sure at least one had cannons.

Serina scowled, snapping her spyglass shut. “I can’t believe Bobbie set up a fucking blockade to catch me.”

“This isn’t Bobbie,” Reyna replied quietly.

Her tone made the pirate flinch. Serina began to pace, running her hand through her long, unruly hair. Her arm was still bandaged, and it seemed painful to lift—which didn’t bode well.

“Okay, so… a blockade. Which means he’ll ask for surrender. He won’t want to see his precious ship at the bottom of the Nacean, right?”

“Depends on how angry he is.” Reyna rolled her arms, loosening up for a fight. But against four ships, she wasn’t sure how much she could do without Kianthe. Fear coiled in her gut, the sick knowledge that she might not be able to keep her promise—either to keep the crew safe, or to keep herself safe. “We know he has plenty of coin to buy a new ship. He might decide to make a statement.”

Serina glanced at Rankor, then at Darlene on the lower deck, swinging Reyna’s sword in the practice drill Reyna had assigned. Sweat gleamed on the captain’s brow as she turned back to the blockade. “Then we sail around. This area of the Nacean has plenty of offshoots. We find one he hasn’t blocked and sneak past.”

It was a fair point, and she liked their odds better. Eventually Diarn Arlon would catch on, but for today it seemed like the smart idea. Hopefully Kianthe would catch up to them before the next fight, though; Diarn Arlon would think twice about attacking a ship with the Arcandor on board.

“I think that’s—”

A flash of light from one of the ships.

There was just enough time to scream, “ Get down, ” before a sharp keening sound sliced through the air. Wood shattered above their head, a deafening explosion, hailing splinters in every direction as the earsplitting crack of cannon fire finally caught up. A chunk of one of their booms spun into the water.

As the high-pitched whine in her ears receded, Reyna registered someone screaming. Darlene.

“We’re under attack,” Serina shouted, taking command with impressive speed. “Darlene, Joe, get below deck! Pil, Rankor, turn us around. Now!”

Farley burst out from below deck, tying her dark hair into a bun. “Who’s attacking?”

“There.” Reyna plucked the spyglass out of Serina’s hands, locating a ship emerging from a small inlet she hadn’t seen before. They’d been so concerned with the forward ships that she’d completely forgotten to check their flank.

Rookie mistake.

Reyna cursed. “It has two cannons, which means a second shot is inbound. We have to get out of here.”

“The hull is too thick for a cannon to pierce at this distance. They can’t sink us,” Farley said, vaulting onto the upper deck beside her husband.

Overhead, Pil barked a hollow laugh. He was bleeding from several cuts—undoubtedly from the spray of splinters—but none of it looked serious. He moved in swift tandem with Rankor when their navigator turned the ship, even as his kids vanished below deck. “I’m less concerned about sinking in a river, and more concerned about the debris taking out one of our eyes.”

Another boom . Sharp snapping sounds echoed as lines sliced clean through, whipping under the sudden loss of tension. Pil clutched one of the masts, bracing himself, but at least no wood shattered this time.

“If they get our mast, we’re dead in the water,” Serina said. “We need to get out of here.”

“Trying—” Rankor grunted, wrestling with the helm. Under them, the ship lurched sideways, turning a slow circle away from the blockade. But it was too late—the four ships hidden around the bend had left their spots, and were advancing fast.

Reyna counted thirty constables, maybe more, marring their decks.

She retrieved her sword from where Darlene had abandoned it, but even its familiar grip didn’t offer comfort. Fear thrummed in her veins, warring with cold determination as she held Serina’s gaze.

“Prepare to be boarded, Captain.”

Serina tugged out her own sword, her face pale. “Aye.”