Vengeance of the Pirate Queen (Daughter of the Pirate King #3)

Chapter 3

MY NEW RAPIER FEELS incredible against my side, the knuckle guard shimmering in the sunlight as I walk. I adjust my belt slightly so the sun doesn’t catch it. Last thing I need is my enemies to see me coming.

A boy who must still be in his younger teen years rows me out to my ship. He doesn’t say a word the whole trip, which I love. I tip him generously when we arrive, and he returns to shore, waiting to row out the next person. Eventually, I know Alosa means to have docks extending out from the island so ships can anchor closer. But for now, we do what we must.

When Alosa gifted me the brigantine and asked what I wanted to call her, I told her Vengeance more as a joke than anything else, referring to a conversation from a while back.

“The three of you make quite a set,” Alosa said while Mandsy, Niridia, and I all sat around a campfire on Queen’s Keep, resting after a hard day’s work helping with construction and organizing our men and women.

“Because we’re pretty?” Mandsy asked.

“Nah,” Niridia said. “It’s because we’re her favorite people.”

I said nothing.

“You’re both correct,” Alosa said, joining us around the fire. She grabbed a stick and poked at the flames, which were just as bright as her hair. More seriously, she added, “You’re my inner circle, you know that, right? You’re what I need to keep everything we’ve built. This pirate empire will continue to succeed only because I have you three to rely on.”

“Aww, thanks, Captain,” Mandsy said.

“You’re going to make me blush,” Niridia said.

True to form, I said nothing.

“I mean it,” Alosa said. “Now, don’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”

Niridia gestured to her arm, which was still in a sling. “I could argue that this was your fault.”

Alosa winced, and I wanted to smack Niridia for the comment.

“It’s a joke, Alosa,” Niridia amended. “The pirate king is gone. We can put everything he did behind us.”

But Niridia was still suffering from the two gunshot wounds she’d received during our race against the king to reach the siren treasure. Her injuries were hard to forget when her bandages were in plain sight, for all to see.

Alosa stared at the flames. “We’re going to make this empire better than he ever could.”

“Because you’re in charge,” Mandsy said. “And you’re better than he was.”

“No, it’ll be because it’s built on the backs of hardworking, good women. Pirates who hold honor and strength above all else.”

“And gold,” Niridia whispered.

Alosa shook her head. “With you three setting an example for the rest, I know everything will work out. You are the best parts of me.”

“I don’t ever remember hearing you be so sappy, Captain,” Mandsy said.

“I mean it. You are the best parts of me. Mandsy, you are my mercy.”

As a healer and pirate, Mandsy deals help and death efficiently. Mercy is the perfect word for her.

“Niridia,” Alosa continued, “you are my justice.”

Niridia is more fair and levelheaded than anyone else I know. I thought Alosa’s words an apt description. Then she turned her gaze on me.

“And you, Sorinda. You are my vengeance.”

A hush fell over our group.

“Never forget this,” Alosa said. “Never forget how precious you three are to me.”

As I stare at the side of the brigantine while climbing the rope ladder, I realize that Alosa took my suggestion for ship name to heart. In bold black letters, someone has painted Vengeance on the side of my ship. I suppose I’m stuck with it now, not that it’s a bad name.

I set one foot on the deck, take a look around at all the unfamiliar faces loading food, supplies, and personal effects, and feel a jolt of uneasiness.

I know how to sail. I know the jobs of every sailor on a ship. I know what needs to happen for things to run smoothly and efficiently. I’ve just never been the one in charge before. Alosa said I’d earned it, but it wasn’t exactly something I ever wanted: captaining my own ship. Yet I’ve accepted this responsibility, and I intend to see it through to the very end.

Then I will resume duties as assassin and never captain a crew again.

In the meantime …

I start for the girl barking out orders to the pirates shuffling about.

“Get those barrels stored below quickly. In the back of the hold, please. We won’t need them right away. And, you there! You’re not on vacation. You can have one trunk of personal effects and one alone.”

“Dimella?” I ask when I reach her.

“You must be Captain Sorinda. Nice to meet you.”

She’s a tiny thing at barely five feet, but her voice is so loud, you’d think she was twice that height. With strawberry-blond curls pulled into a band at the nape of her neck and deep brown eyes, she looks positively youthful.

“Before you can ask, I’m twenty-one years old. I can assure you I’m more than capable of serving as your second on this voyage, Captain.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“That’d be a first for me. Everyone takes one look at me and assumes I’m sixteen. Not my fault my da was a wee man. Oi, you there!”

She points to a man wearing an enormous hat. I have to do a double take once I recognize him.

“Enwen?” I ask.

“Miss Sorinda!” he says excitedly. “Wait, that’s not right anymore. Captain! I was excited to hear you were in charge of this voyage!”

Warily, I ask, “Why?”

“Because Kearan is also aboard. Didn’t you know?”

I don’t know what he means by that, but I’m already certain I don’t like it.

“What’s with the hat?” Dimella asks him.

Yes, indeed. Enwen wears the biggest sailor’s hat I’ve ever seen. You could catch gallons of rainwater with it, and the plume looks as though it came from something much larger than an ostrich.

“It’s my newest good-luck charm,” Enwen exclaims. “When people are distracted by this hat, they’re not watching my hands.” He wiggles his fingers.

“There’ll be no thieving on my vessel,” I warn him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Captain! This is for if we happen to stop anywhere along the way. I never know when I might need my lucky hat.”

“Toss it over or store it below,” Dimella says. “I can’t see half the ship when you’re in front of me, and that has nothing to do with my size.”

“Aye-aye, Miss Dimella.”

Enwen pulls the hat from his head and clutches it to his chest. He’s a tall man even without it, with midnight-black hair, small eyes, defined cheekbones, and impossibly long lashes. Enwen’s body type borders on scrawny. Probably a good thing. With all the superstitions he carries around with him, the man can appear massive.

I start to follow him belowdecks to get settled before remembering I don’t sleep with the rest of the crew. No, this is my ship. My quarters are at the stern. The captain’s quarters. The door is unlocked, so I let myself in.

It’s more space than any single person on a ship has a right to own, though I’m sure Alosa would think it too small. Brigantines are thin and easy to maneuver, valued for their speed. The captain’s quarters are much smaller than they might be on other vessels.

I empty out my bag, putting four sets of identical clothing in cubbies of the closet. Cotton shirts and pants in varying shades of gray and black. My spare boots I place on the floor, tucking my coin purse within the toe of the left boot for safekeeping.

I notice that Alosa has already placed other sets of clothing in here for me. Fur-lined pants and boots. Long-sleeved shirts, wool scarves and hats, a coat thick enough for me to get lost in.

There’s no telling how far north we’ll have to go, but the farther we sail, the colder the weather will get. As usual, Alosa has thought of everything.

I haven’t any items in the way of personal belongings save all the weapons I carry on me. I learned at a young age not to give value to such things. They can be ripped away faster than you can blink.

I store my second rapier, brass knuckles, knives, and other sharp instruments throughout the room, placing them in drawers, nooks behind navigating instruments, and wherever else I can make them fit. That done, I turn to the bed.

I can’t remember the last time I slept in an actual bed. Usually, it’s a hammock belowdecks for the likes of me, and I’ve certainly never slept in a bed big enough to fit two people.

Atop the woolen blankets, I find the key to my room, a fine-looking jacket, and a note. I pocket the key before picking up the parchment.

You’re a captain now, so you need to look the part. Happy belated birthday! See you when I get back.

With love,

Mandsy

I flip the paper over, finding another scrawl of writing in a different penmanship.

You should know I had to stop her from picking out something in yellow. Since you hate attention and birthdays, I won’t bother to wish you a happy one. You should also note that I refrained from giving you a gift. Who’s your favorite?

It’s me!

—Niridia

I’m smiling despite myself. The captain’s coat is made out of a midnight-black brocade, though I note that Mandsy couldn’t help but pick out something with a dash of color. A deep scarlet paints the wide cuffs at the wrists, as well as the collar at the neck. Gold buttons drift down the sides, each one so polished I can see my reflection.

It must have been terribly expensive.

I try it on.

Fits like a glove.

I find the mirror near the closet and appraise myself.

I look … like a captain. Like a girl who’s meant to be seen and give out orders. The jacket hangs down to my knees, just above where the leather of my tall boots ends. The rest of my clothes are worn and faded, not matching at all with the fancy new coat.

Mandsy would probably say that I need to break it in. She’d point out it will get dirty and worn with usage. I’ve never been one to care what people think of me, but maybe that’s because I’m not used to them looking my way at all, not when I’m so careful to hide myself in the shadows.

I look above the coat, at the features of my face. I like to keep my hair in small braids, which I then pull back into a ponytail. I prefer it kept out of my eyes. Makes it easier to kill things. I have pointed features, strong cheekbones, and an angled brow. My nose is wide, and my brown eyes have a circle of black at the outer edge of the irises.

Even I can admit the coat looks incredible against my dark brown skin.

It would be rude not to wear it. The voice of reason in my head sounds strangely like Alosa’s.

But Mandsy’s not here to know whether or not I wear it.

You’re the captain, Sorinda. You need to look the part. You need to com mand the respect of all aboard this vessel. Just wear the damn jacket.

Before I can lose my resolve, I make for the door. When I open it, I leap backward.

A large body stands on the other side, fist upturned to knock.

Kearan.

His other hand is behind his back, clutching something.

“Captain,” he says, surprised by my sudden appearance. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t scare me.”

He blinks once at that, then asks, “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“I have something for you.”

“I don’t like gifts.”

The silence is painful, but I refuse to let it show on my face. I say not a word more, nor do I move from my position. I will not back down.

Kearan brings his other hand around, and I see the rim of a tricorne pinched between his fingers. “I just thought, as the captain, you need a hat. Besides, you won’t be able to hide in the shadows like you usually do. Maybe the hat will give you some semblance of privacy. A way to hide your face when you wish. I would have given you something sooner if I’d known it was your birthday.”

I absolutely loathe the thoughtful gesture. What is this? Another attempt to win me over?

“I didn’t get you a present on your birthday,” I say.

“I don’t care.”

“You’re in my way.”

He steps backward. “Sorry, Captain.”

I haven’t the slightest idea what to do. That hat is still being offered to me, and some of the crew have to be watching. The way is now sort of clear, but how will it look if I brush past him without doing anything else?

In a split decision, I take the hat, toss it onto the bed behind me, then shut and lock the door before leaving Kearan standing next to it.

There.

Now I need to find Dimella so she can save me from any further interactions with this reprehensible man.

Instead, she finds me.

“Captain, all crew and supplies are accounted for. Vengeance is ready to set sail.”

That means it’s time to give my first order as captain. I swallow my discomfort. “Then let’s be off,” I tell her.

“Aye-aye. Kearan, to the helm with you!” she shouts to the man still standing behind me. “Weigh anchor! Riggers, to your posts!” I climb the companionway to join her atop the aftercastle. From here, I can see a single figure on the beach, strands of red hair brushing over her shoulders. Alosa waves.

I wave back as the ship starts to turn, heading for open ocean.

Here we go.

We’re sailing north to the Seventeen Isles. From there, we’ll take the same path the land king’s lost vessel, the Wanderer , did. Hopefully, we’ll catch some trace of her—and Alosa’s missing crew.

With the ship on its proper course and the sails set to rights, the crew is free to relax. Some go below for naps before they’re expected to take night shifts this evening. Others lean their forearms on the railing to watch the sun splay over the ocean. Girls chitter in the rigging, preferring to be up high. The crew is mostly women, I’ve noted. In fact, I’ve only counted five men, including Kearan and Enwen.

Alosa prefers it that way. Simply put, women make the best pirates. They think with their heads instead of their privates. They feel they have more to prove, so they work harder. They’re more honorable and trustworthy. There are, of course, the exceptions. Wallov and Deros, stars grant him rest, were fine pirates when they were on Alosa’s crew. And I’ve known women who double-crossed their own crews.

Still, numbers are numbers.

One of the men went below. Two others stand above the bowsprit, chatting with each other.

Dimella catches sight of them, too, and we both take their measure.

“What are we starin’ at?” Enwen joins us up top, placing himself between Dimella and the helm, where Kearan is stationed.

“The men,” Dimella answers for me, nodding at the fore. “They’re rather big.”

“Lerick and Rorun?” Enwen squints in their direction. “They’re not as big as Kearan, I suppose, but I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” Dimella says. “You don’t have to worry about who’s bigger than you.”

“I don’t follow.”

“She means,” I say, “that you don’t have to think about the fact that half the population is capable of overpowering you. We women are always wary of big men.”

Kearan shifts slightly.

“Truly, Captain?” Enwen asks. “I didn’t know women worried about such things.”

“Because you are not in as much danger of certain violences as we are,” Dimella says.

Enwen swallows, takes a look between Dimella and the two men at the bow, then steps between her and them.

Dimella rolls her eyes. “Unnecessary, Enwen. I carry around pointy objects for just such reasons.”

“Sorry, Miss Dimella, you’re just so small, and if there’s anything I can—”

“Don’t call me small!” Dimella snaps. “I’m merely in a better position to stab a man where it’ll do the most damage.”

Enwen crosses his legs almost involuntarily.

“Best stop talking, Enwen,” Kearan puts in. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Sorry, Miss Dimella,” Enwen says before slamming his lips closed.

My first mate rolls her eyes before turning to me. “I’m going below unless you have need of me, Captain?”

My skin crawls. I am not used to ordering people about. It feels so terribly wrong. Alosa should be here to do this. Not me. But she has entrusted this to me. Better get used to it now. These decisions are trifling. The harder ones will come in time, I’m sure.

“Take a well-earned rest,” I say. “There’ll be plenty to do later.”

“Aye-aye.”

When she leaves, the other two men fall silent for once. I stay where I am, only because it is a good place for the crew to spot me right now, overseeing our heading, and it gives me a good vantage from which to start memorizing new faces, though I have to repress cringes when eyes meet mine. Normally, people don’t know it when I’m observing.

I tug at the sleeve of my new coat, pulling it past my wrist, even though it hardly needs adjusting.

Kearan speaks up. “They seem like nice lads.”

At first, I assume he’s talking to Enwen, but then his eyes settle on me.

“Lerick and Rorun,” he explains. “I’ve had occasion to speak with them at the keep. They seem polite. Don’t speak ill of any of the women around them.”

“Do you think Alosa would permit them to sail with us if they did?”

“Some men behave one way when they’re around other men. Then pretend to be decent sorts when around women. They’re not that kind. They’re the same no matter whose company they’re in.”

“I don’t care. I’m always going to be wary of men and keep my guard up around them. Especially the large ones.”

His eyes narrow at me, and I narrow mine right back.

Before Kearan can respond, Enwen puts in, “Are you making new friends?”

“What?”

“Are you trying to replace me?” Enwen’s voice rises in pitch.

“What are you on about?”

“Let’s get something straight, Kearan Erroth. I’m your best friend. You can’t replace me with someone else. I will not allow it.”

Kearan takes one hand off the helm to point at the other pirate. “How many times do I have to tell you? We are not friends.”

“Yes. We. Are.”

“Just because someone is nice to you doesn’t make them your friend.”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of our strong friendship.”

Kearan closes his eyes. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“I’ll see you below for that game of cards later.” Enwen makes his retreat.

“What game? I haven’t agreed to any game.”

Enwen disappears without answering, and all returns to blessed silence.

For about two seconds.

“What?” Kearan asks.

Since there’s no one else around, I have to assume he’s talking to me.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear your thoughts from here.”

I say nothing to his stupid words.

“You’re thinking about how weird Enwen is, right? He’s mad. I can’t believe Alosa—”

“I was thinking,” I say, if only to shut him up, “that you treat your friends poorly.”

“How many times do I have to point out that Enwen is not my friend?”

I don’t know why I’m still talking to him. I hardly care what Kearan does with himself or who he interacts with. Maybe I’ll blame every uncharacteristic thing I do during this voyage on Alosa. She’s the one who told me to speak up. Put the crew at ease. Except what I’m about to say should un settle Kearan, something that seems to bring me a small measure of joy.

“You forget,” I say, “I was ordered to supervise you aboard the Ava-lee . Enwen was the only person who cared about you when you were too slobbering drunk to be aware of anything. He was the only one who saw your potential. Even Alosa only took you on because her navigator died, and she didn’t have time to replace her with someone adept when we were fleeing from the pirate king.”

“ Was the only person who cared about me?” Kearan asks. “And now? Who else cares about me now?”

“Only Alosa.”

Kearan looks disappointed, as though he hoped I’d say someone else. He recovers quickly, though. “She tried to kill me once.”

“You manhandled her.”

“Under Draxen’s orders.”

“She’s killed men for far less.”

“Or sent you to do it for her.”

I say nothing. We both know it’s true.

“You be nice to Enwen,” I threaten, because this is the kind of language I understand best.

“You like him?” Kearan asks carefully.

“He is part of my crew, which means he has my protection.”

“Do I have your protection?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Can you protect me from Enwen’s prattling?”

Our eyes catch, Kearan looking as though he’s fighting a smile. Meanwhile, I’m fighting the urge to dismember him.

“Let’s get something straight. If you make one wrong move on this ship, I will kill you.”

He lets the smile show in full force. “I’d really like to see you try.”

“You won’t see me coming,” I assure him.

My appearance on the deck has lasted long enough. I disappear back into my quarters, toss the stupid tricorne on the other side of the room, slide out of the coat, and breathe.