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

18. Kianthe

Chapter eighteen

Kianthe

T hey went to Lathe.

Naturally, they went to Lathe—it was the only town north of Oslop, and the only place they could sail without running into heaps of the diarn’s constables. The journey took two days, mostly because the river was already icy this far north and avoiding it took both their navigator’s skill and a touch of magic.

Plus, as Kianthe learned, they had a delivery to make.

As the crisp air shifted into outright snow, Kianthe began to realize that normal life on a pirate ship was… pretty relaxing, actually. She got to know the crew, who—despite the chaos of the blockade battle—was already loyal and excited for adventure.

The older woman called Squirrel approached Reyna late that night and they murmured to each other for a while. By the end, Squirrel and Reyna were exchanging pastry recipes and discussing the best length of time to brew the diarn’s private stash of tea. Squirrel even summoned up a true Queendom accent and gave Reyna tips for hiding her own when needed.

Kianthe watched it all from behind piles of parchment. After all, she’d promised to write Reyna a book and, Stone be damned, she’d deliver.

Especially after Reyna slyly drawled, “Did you give up on your dreams of authorship so soon?”

“I’m getting around to it,” Kianthe had replied, crossing her arms.

“Hmm. I was under the impression that you needed to put pen to parchment to accomplish that goal. Then again, you’re my expert on tomes—perhaps I’m mistaken.” And she offered a winning smile before descending into the galley with Squirrel.

And so Kianthe buried herself in parchment, slowly realizing that writing a book was harder than talking about writing one. She spent two days struggling to pen her ideas while Reyna commanded the ship and Serina kept an eye on Bobbie—until finally the ex-constable awoke.

Instead of waiting in bed like a normal injured person, Bobbie staggered onto the deck and caught everyone’s attention. Tough to miss her, considering her skin held an ashen hue and blood was already dotting her newly changed bandages.

“Ah, Captain?” Kianthe called, jerking a thumb at the doorway to the captain’s quarters, where Bobbie had paused to grab the doorframe. It was very possible she’d topple over if she let go. “Your charge is up. Against carpenter recommendation, I might add.”

Serina had created a makeshift cane to use while her leg healed, but she was doing better now, chatting with Rankor as he guided the Knot for Sail through mounds of ice. At Kianthe’s words, though, she craned her neck over the railing, then groaned audibly. “Bobbie! What in the hells are you doing?”

“Just—making sure it wasn’t a dream,” Bobbie muttered, staring hard at the ship, the crew, Kianthe, and finally Serina. Her corkscrew curls were flattened on one side from where she’d been sleeping, and her expression was pinched.

Definitely shouldn’t be up.

Kianthe stacked the sheets of parchment and set them under her inkwell, dispensing strict instructions that the wind not to disrupt the pages while she was gone. She’d been writing on the deck, laying on her stomach like a kid drawing with charcoal, and it took a few moments to climb to her feet.

Reyna, who’d been in the crow’s nest with Joe, dropped onto the deck. She stretched, pulling her arms above her head. “Done writing for the day?”

There was judgment in her tone. It was mild, amused, but definitely there.

“I’m sourcing content.” Kianthe jerked a thumb at Serina, who’d just staggered down the staircase to cuff Bobbie on the head. “You know it’s prime stuff when these two get together.”

Reyna’s lips quirked.

“I’ll get back to it!”

“I know you will, love. Because I expect three pages by tonight or you’re sleeping on the floor.” Kianthe gasped indignantly, but Reyna was already stepping to help Bobbie back into bed. She slipped under the ex-constable’s arm, taking most of her weight. “And you. Back to bed.”

Bobbie didn’t complain as they hobbled back into the captain’s quarters. She dropped heavily on the mattress, her fingers feathering over the tight bandages on her shoulder. “What happened?”

“You were stabbed,” Kianthe offered helpfully. She’d been drinking tea while she wrote, and cradled the cooling mug against her chest. Behind her, Rankor and Joe were squinting curiously at Bobbie, so she closed the door.

Nosy crew.

Serina loomed over her, glowering as she leaned on her cane. “ Stabbed , Bobbie. Which means when I tell you the options are bed rest or bed rest, you’ll obey your captain’s orders.” She puffed indignantly.

Bobbie flinched. “You’re not my captain. I’m not supposed to be here. I have to…” she trailed off, clenching her eyes shut. “Stars, I don’t—I lost my job, didn’t I?” Now she looked at Kianthe desperately, as if the mage might wave it all away.

Kianthe cleared her throat. “Ah, yes. Yes, you did. But if it makes you feel better, Arlon is proving himself to be absolutely insane, so he’s probably not long for his job, either.” That was supposition at best, but if Kianthe trusted anyone to find a loophole and expel a diarn from his lands, it was Feo. And by her calculation, Visk would be bringing Tawney’s diarn soon.

Bobbie’s confusion melted Serina’s icy irritation. The pirate captain sighed, dropping onto her cot. A flash of pain crossed her features, but it smoothed quickly as the weight was taken off her leg. “You’re better off not working for him anyway.”

That didn’t seem to help.

“But what am I going to do, Serrie?” The words were wrenched from Bobbie’s soul.

Reyna and Kianthe exchanged sympathetic glances. Their bookshop had been threatened last summer, and Kianthe knew the anxiety she faced trying to keep it—and Reyna—safe. And in the end, it was out of her hands anyway.

Serina, meanwhile, had softened further at the nickname. She swallowed hard, reaching for Bobbie’s hand. “We’ll be in Lathe soon. I need to drop off the grain, and I figured—well, at least you’ve got family there. You can take some time to heal, and figure out next steps.” A smile, almost warm now. “It’ll be okay.”

“Family.” Bobbie’s voice was faint, and her free hand once again ghosted up to the bandage on her shoulder. The wound was deep enough to leave a wicked scar once it healed. She grimaced. “Y-yeah. Because you’re a pirate now, and I’m—” she off with a choking sound, and hunched into herself. “I’ll go home.”

Yikes.

Reyna pinched her brow, and Kianthe kept silent only by taking another sip of tea. This blend was one from Reyna’s personal stash: rose and lavender. Soothing. Much nicer than the shipwreck happening across the room.

Serina hesitated. “You were hurt really badly, Bobbie.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine. You weren’t breathing .” Serina pulled away, pushed to her feet, then winced in pain and slumped back onto the cot. She stared at the wooden ceiling. “You weren’t breathing. You saved my life, and you almost died right in front of me and it’s all because of my choices.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and her eyes dropped to the bandages wrapping Bobbie’s shoulder. “I think it’s better if you stay in Lathe.”

Maybe it was Kianthe reading into things, but Serina didn’t sound very convinced.

On the bed, Bobbie looked dazed, either from fever or this conversation. Regardless, her filter was gone, because she replied: “Better for me, or better for you?”

Serina stiffened at the accusation in her tone. “You. Arlon crossed a line, and he won’t stop at that fight. This is only going to get more dangerous. Are you planning to throw yourself in front of every sword that comes my way?”

“Maybe,” Bobbie said stubbornly. Her eyes narrowed, but she was swaying a bit now. She probably should lie back down—a woman so perpetually sleep-deprived, now facing the lingering effects of drowning, blood loss, and electrocution. Kianthe almost stepped forward to intervene, but Reyna caught her arm.

A wry smile had settled on the ex-Queensguard’s face. She was enjoying this.

Kianthe almost buried her face in her hands in exasperation.

“Maybe,” Serina repeated, deadpan. “And the next time it happens, when the Arcandor isn’t around to literally send a bolt of lightning into your heart—what then? I get to watch you die?”

“Better than me watching you die,” Bobbie retorted. “Better than some other constable towing you back to Diarn Arlon, watching you earn a life sentence because you didn’t understand what you were doing.”

That went south.

Reyna winced. “Perhaps we should let Bobbie rest—”

Kianthe did roll her eyes, now. “Too late for that, Rain.”

“I don’t understand what I’m doing?” Serina laughed, and then laughed again. The derision in her voice was as palpable as a hammer to the face. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You really think I’m just messing around? Playing pirate, like when we were kids?”

Bobbie set her jaw, but didn’t respond.

“Arlon is hurting people. I’m taking a stand. Maybe it’s not the best method, but everyone here joined my crew because his oppression is wrong. If you can’t understand that, maybe you do belong in Lathe.” Serina scoffed, pushed off the cot, and hobbled out of the room.

Silence lingered when she left. Bobbie stared after her, then slumped against the plush pillows of the bed.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Kianthe exchanged a quick glance with Reyna, then mouthed, “ I’ll handle this .” Reyna nodded silently, took Kianthe’s empty mug of tea and stepped after Serina. Alone again, Kianthe perched in the space the pirate captain had vacated, gently taking Bobbie’s wrist to check her pulse. Just like Matild had taught her, she counted beats, but Bobbie physically was doing much better than expected.

Mentally, well… that was another story.

“I messed up,” the ex-constable mumbled. “Didn’t I?”

Kianthe dropped her wrist, leaned back with a sigh. “I won’t lie to you; that wasn’t ideal.”

“I didn’t think—” Bobbie cut herself off with a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t think.”

“Listen. When Reyna and I first started dating, we had these issues too. Conversations that seemed to veer into dangerous territory, hurt feelings after saying something we didn’t mean, misunderstandings about our jobs and responsibilities. There was a huge culture difference and overcoming that was tricky.”

Bobbie stared glumly at her hands. “You don’t seem to have those problems now.”

“I mean, we worked on it. We both wanted to see what we could become together, so we created conversational cues to avoid those pitfalls. It’s not that we don’t have hard discussions anymore; those don’t go away.” Kianthe tilted her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “But if you start a conversation with the honest desire to understand… well, things go differently.”

“I have a hard time understanding this.” Bobbie gestured at the ship. “Arlon isn’t perfect—maybe he’s even the villain here—but there are other ways to take a stand. Legal ways.”

“I mean, you’re living proof that most legal options are slow, if they work at all. Serina did what she felt was best, it seems.”

Bobbie bristled, pushing off the bed again. She wobbled as she stood, but kept her balance against the gentle sway of the ship. “Ah, yes. Because her only options were to start a farm… or be a pirate. Naturally.”

Kianthe shrugged. “I’m not in the business of telling people how to live their lives. But if you approach her implying that she’s wrong, you won’t get very far.”

Silence.

The ex-constable winced in pain and pressed a hand against her chest. “Did you really electrocute me?”

“Just a bit, yeah. You should probably sit back down.”

Instead, Bobbie staggered to the wooden table near the door, to the tea kettle perched on it. “Is there water in this? I’d love a cup of tea before a few more hours of sleep.”

“Ah, growth.” Kianthe lit her index finger on fire, holding it under the kettle’s metal framing to heat the water inside. As they waited, Bobbie dropped heavily into the wooden chair by the table. Kianthe bolstered her courage, then asked: “Do you think pirating makes Serina a bad person?”

“I think Serina is one of the kindest, most encouraging people I’ve ever met.” The answer was immediate and honest. Bobbie buried her head in her hands. “This was a lot easier when we were kids.”

“Kids rarely have to get involved in world politics.” Kianthe shrugged, pouring the boiling water into a ceramic mug. Reyna had stacked a couple bags of Arlon’s precious tea on the desk, and Kianthe wrinkled her nose as his alchemical seal pulsed at her proximity.

One day soon, she’d have to tackle it. For now, she just hoped Serina wouldn’t get curious.

Risky—but the pirate was preoccupied right now, at least.

Kianthe dropped the tea bag in her mug and pushed it towards the ex-constable, then leaned against the table. “Regardless, you have a choice. It’s easy to stay on the proud path, the ‘righteous’ one—but you’ll lose a lot of friends that way. Time to identify what’s important, then find a way to keep it.”

Bobbie stared glumly at her tea. “You lost your hat again.”

“That happens when you’re diving into the river to haul out a corpse.”

“Oh. I’ll make you another one.”

Kianthe chuckled. “I’m fairly sure Reyna has me covered on that front. We’ll just pick our favorite people in Tawney, and they’ll get the remaining souvenirs. Your yarn is with your horse anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Wish I had some now.” Bobbie glanced at her things piled on the table, the waterlogged belt, the custom crochet needles in their drying leather sheath.

“You could try reading. That’s my stress relief.” Kianthe pushed off the table, clapped the ex-constable’s good shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll be arriving in Lathe later tonight.” And she strolled into the sunshine, leaving Bobbie to contemplate her future.