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

Chapter 21

“ YOU SHOULDN’T TOUCH ME like this,” I say when I get my tears under control. “He might be watching.”

“To hell with him,” Kearan says.

“He can’t be sent to hell. Only back to sleep.”

“Then I hope he has nightmares of me every night.”

I laugh.

This isn’t natural for me. Not the crying. Not the embracing. But it’s what I need nonetheless. I have never had another soul make me feel so light. I can’t help but want to be physically close to him.

When the first tent flap slides back, Kearan scoots away from me. I know it’s not because he doesn’t want to be seen with me, but because he knows I can’t be seen leaning on someone else. Not as the captain, and certainly not in front of newcomers, who still don’t really know my character. I’m glad my tears are dried. We can appear as though we are merely sharing the warmth of the fire. But the truth is, we shared so much more.

A precious moment. One that I feel might just change the course of my life.

If we make it off this island.

Jadine and her helpers start on breakfast. Kearan adds more wood to the fires.

I add more hope to my soul.

I thought all I had to do was reveal my secret truths and then I would be rejected. People would hate me. Kearan would hate me, and the choice would be made for me. I wouldn’t have to decide if I like this thing that has blossomed between us. This feeling I get whenever he is near.

But now? Now I do have choices to make.

Just not until I get this crew safely out of here. Not until I know whether I live or die.

Otherwise, it’s a moot point.

I feel myself stealing glances at Kearan as the morning goes by. The crew eats and the women on watch are switched out with fresh eyes. Dimella takes roll, and Captain Warran tries to hide his disdain.

Yet I cherish every time Kearan’s eyes meet mine. I relish in those brief connections until it is time to go to work.

“Listen up, you lot,” I say. “It’s time we got off this island.”

“Has the queen been spotted on the horizon?” Dimella asks.

“No, but we’re not going to wait around for her.”

“Why should we need to wait for your queen to arrive before leaving?” Captain Warran interrupts.

There’s no dancing around this issue any longer. What’s Warran going to do at this point? Leave?

“Our ship sank same as yours, but it is of no matter. There’s—”

“You don’t have a ship!” the captain thunders. “All that talk of rescue and your noble pursuits, and you don’t even have a way to get us off this bloody island? Bloody pirates! You lot—”

Kearan steps in front of the man, blocking him from my view. I can’t see the look he gives the other captain, but it finally shuts the man right up.

“The Drifta have a ship,” I say. “We’re going to steal it. We know the general direction of where it struck from. We’ll find it, we’ll take it, and we’ll never look back.”

“We’re going to steal something?” Nydus asks, the prospect clearly exciting him.

“Pirates,” Shura reminds him. “Besides, the natives stranded us here in the first place. It’s only right they be our means of returning home.”

“Indeed,” I say. “Pack up camp at once. We won’t be returning. Be ready to move out within the hour.”

Everyone leaps into movement, letting down tents, packing up the food, dousing the fires. Even amidst the flurry of movement, I catch something out of the corner of my eye. I turn, seeing a figure stride away.

Though I’m not perfectly familiar with the crew of the Wanderer yet, I’m certain that man isn’t one of theirs. No, it was one of the undead, and he’s been called away elsewhere.

Threydan surely knows of our plans.

We don’t have much time.

Roslyn reloads pistols while the adults do the packing. We make quick work of it, getting everything loaded up in under thirty minutes.

And then we move. Dimella takes the front with her compass, leading us back the way we came. Roslyn stays at my side, holding my hand. Kearan stands on the other side of her. Near me, yet not so near as to mean anything by it.

“I really want my papa,” Roslyn says.

“Of course you do,” I say.

“But he was so overbearing, Sorinda. I thought I would want a break from him for years and years after the way he treated me. But I don’t. I wish I could see him this very moment.”

I squeeze her hand. “You will see him again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Do you think he will be immediately cross with me? Or do you suppose he’d let me hug him first?”

Kearan takes her free hand, shifting the load he carries to his other arm. “He’ll be so happy to see you, he’ll forget there was ever a reason to be cross.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s what I would do if I were missing a daughter.”

“His happiness over seeing me returned won’t last forever. He’ll do something afterward.”

“Probably skin your hide,” I offer.

Roslyn shrugs at that. “It was worth it.”

“What was?”

“This adventure. It’s worth whatever punishment Papa has for me.”

“This was an adventure I could have—” I cut myself off. I was going to add done without , but I realize that’s not true. How can it be? When this journey gave me hope for my own future and clarity on the past. When this journey drew me closer to a man I otherwise would have been able to ignore.

“You’ll have to work hard to earn back his trust, though,” I say instead.

“Probably, but at least I won’t have to listen to him forever!”

“What do you mean by that?” Kearan asks.

“Alosa says I’ll be old enough to fight with her crews when I’m thirteen.”

“Yes, I’m sure your papa will let up then,” Kearan says sarcastically.

Roslyn doesn’t seem to notice.

THE DRIFTA’S VESSEL IS easier to find than I anticipated. The natives dock her not far from where we sank, between a jutting cliff side and an iceberg bigger than any building built by Islanders. From the inside of the island, looking outward, it’s not hard to see how we missed her.

Thick ice has formed between the cliff and the iceberg, creating a ceiling over the docked ship. The sea must have shown the reflection of the ice, making the structure look solid. But from land, looking outward, I can see the stern peeking out from the ice tunnel.

I can also see the Drifta on watch. They stand atop towers hidden in the ice surrounding the island, always watching for approaching vessels so they know to attack. Dozens upon dozens of them up there with spyglasses. They’ll have hours’ notice before any ships arrive. Plenty of time to assemble a crew to attack.

Let’s see how many they leave on board when they’re not expecting a skirmish.

From the tree line looking to the sea, it’s a several-hundred-yard dash. There’s no cover. No way to mask almost forty people approaching. The ship ahead is mostly in shadow. Impossible to tell who might be looking this way.

“What are you thinking?” Dimella asks me.

“I don’t want to run for it. If they’re alerted to our presence, they could shoot us down before we ever reach the sea. There’s no cover on the shoreline. We need to get someone aboard that galleon to cause a distraction.”

Dimella sizes up the distance and looks to the surrounding lookout towers. “That’s not going to be easy. Even if we could camouflage someone sufficiently, those lookouts will surely notice the movement against this flat expanse of white.”

“I’d try it, Captain,” Roslyn offers. “I can be stealthy, just like you taught me.”

“I know you can,” I say to her, “but this is different.”

“We could wait for the cover of nightfall,” Kearan suggests.

“We don’t have the time,” I say. “Even now, Threydan is on his way. We need to be long gone.”

“I thought you said he gave you three days to decide,” Roslyn says.

“That was before I made plans to leave the island.” A pause. “Roslyn, lesson number three of being an assassin is always assume everyone is lying.”

“What if someone caused a distraction inland?” Visylla asks. “We could draw them away from the ship.”

“We’ve already done that once,” I say. “They won’t fall for the same trick twice.”

Everyone falls silent, and no more ideas are forthcoming. I simply stare out at the ocean, watching those ice-cold waves crash onto the shore.

Cold to everyone except me.

I wince as I remember my time alone on the ocean floor. It was horrifying, something I never want to experience again. But I know what I must do if I’m to save everyone.

“I need to go around,” I say.

“Around what?” Kearan asks.

I point to the west. “The tree line meets up with the ocean over there. I could slip into the water, swim to the ship, then board her.”

No one says anything for a moment.

“How would you manage that without dying?” Shura asks, speaking up for the first time.

“Cold doesn’t affect the captain anymore,” Enwen says. “She’s half undead. ’Twas an unfortunate accident.”

“ What? ” Captain Warran bellows.

Kearan silences him with another look.

To Dimella, I say, “I know you don’t like me going off alone, but this might be our only chance off the island.”

She nods. “I think you have the right of it. We can’t risk waiting for nightfall with everything that’s hunting us.”

“We don’t have time for me to silently kill the whole crew,” I say, more to myself than everyone else. “I’ll be the distraction so you can approach the ship. When you hear them sound the alarm, you’ll know they’re sufficiently occupied and it’s safe to board.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’ll do my best.” I point over my shoulder. “Fill in the crew of the Wanderer on everything that’s happened. They need to be prepared for the worst.”

“Aye-aye,” she says.

“I’ll walk you to the beach,” Kearan says.

I don’t argue with him. I leave Roslyn in Enwen’s care before following the edge of the tree line toward my destination. Kearan is silent at my side, matching my strides.

“He knows what we’re planning,” I say. “I saw one of the undead at the camp. It overheard my orders to the crew. He’s definitely coming.”

“He won’t catch up,” Kearan reassures me. “We’ll be on that ship sailing away before he gets here.”

“He will catch up eventually. Even if we get away today, even if this is the only ship on this island—which I doubt it is—then he will swim after us. He doesn’t need food. I don’t even know if he needs rest. Nothing can harm him. It may take months or years, but he’ll make the swim to the Seventeen Isles.”

“By then, Alosa can be prepared to handle him. She’ll have her mother and the charm ready. He won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

“If he gets me—”

“He won’t.”

“If he gets me, do I have your word that you will help Dimella get everyone safely home and warn Alosa?”

“I already told you—”

“Swear to me,” I say, my voice rising. “I need to hear it right now. Roslyn needs to get home to her papa.”

Kearan doesn’t slow or skip a beat. “I swear it.”

“Thank you.” His vow makes me want to reach out and touch him. I hesitate for several seconds, before reminding myself that I’m not afraid of anything.

I reach for his hand, despite how unnatural the gesture is for me. But my forwardness is rewarded by him threading his fingers through mine.

It feels incredible, even if it doesn’t feel the way it should. There’s a humming in my chest, a nervous flutter that is delicious and unlike anything I have ever felt before. It is nice to touch him. To be touched by him. Even though I cannot feel the heat of his body.

Kearan must read my thoughts because he says, “We’ll find a way to put you back to normal.”

“Threydan said it can’t be done.”

“Since when do we trust that bastard?”

“We don’t.”

“Then don’t lose hope. You said it was a siren artifact that made you this way. Maybe Ava-lee knows a way to fix it.”

I hadn’t considered that the siren queen might have answers for me. It is a possibility, if a small one. But that’s all one needs to hope.

“Thank you,” I say. “For last night. For the hope you bring. For the promises you keep. I won’t forget any of it. Ever.”

“You are my captain. You do not need to thank me for such things.”

“And if I weren’t your captain?” I ask.

He turns his head to face me. “I would still do them for you, Sorinda.”

I want to ask him why. What does he see in me? The same things I see in myself? Or new ones that I never even noticed? Does he know about the things I see in him? His kindness and bravery and thoughtfulness and fierceness. There are other things, too, things that cannot be explained.

They can only be felt.

And I do feel them for this man. This kind soul who’s never demanded anything of me. Done nothing but be there for me, even when I did not deserve it. He’s always been what I needed. He’s always done what I needed, including hiding his feelings until I was ready to know about them.

How could I have kept him at a distance forever?

When we reach the beach, I stare out at the dark blue water and shudder.

“It’s not like before,” Kearan says. “You’re in control. You can change your mind if you don’t want to do this.”

“I can’t,” I say. “Not if I’m to be a good captain.”

“Then you admit you’re a good captain?” he asks.

I smile, and Kearan’s lips part.

He swallows. “Your smiles are rarer than diamonds and infinitely more precious.”

I frown. “Don’t quit piracy to become a poet.”

“Ha.” He nudges me with a shoulder. “I’m serious. It is a lovely smile.”

“Thank you, but watch what you say else Enwen will never let you hear the end of it.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I’m glad for the banter. It lessens my nerves and helps me see my task more clearly. I’m doing this for all of them. If we pull this off, we’ll have completed the task set out for us—despite all the complications that have come up along the way.

“It will be hard to move about the ship when I’m sopping wet,” I say, thinking of this for the first time.

“You could always undress and carry your clothes above you in the water.”

“That won’t exactly help in the area of stealth now, will it? Besides, it would slow me down.”

“Aye, but I’d have a nice image to reminisce on as I returned to the crew.”

My mouth drops open, and Kearan flashes his teeth in a smile.

“We’re fighting for our survival, and you want to be flirty now?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t had the chance to before now, and we might die.”

Truer words were never spoken. “Don’t expect me to reciprocate. I don’t know how to flirt.”

“Yes, you do. You just don’t do it with words.” He eyes my side, where he knows I have at least a couple of knives tucked away.

“You’re a strange man.”

“Aye.”

There’s no more delaying what I have to do next. No matter how much I may want to stand right here and take the time to actually enjoy being around him. Now that I know I am allowed to. Because he doesn’t hate me for what I did.

“Watch for my signal,” I say.

“We will. Give ’em hell.”

“You can count on it.”

And without another word, I dive into the water.

It is so strange to feel the water but not the temperature. It is unnatural to breathe when I know I should not be able to. I feel a momentary panic at being underwater like this again. A feeling of being trapped and surrounded by the unknown.

There could still be dangers about, but it’s easier to fight when I know I’m not just doing it for me. I’ve got thirty-eight people on this island counting on me for their survival. It is a humbling feeling. It focuses me, keeps my eyes straight ahead, straining to make out anything dangerous in the water. I don’t stray too far from shore. Where the water is more shallow, fewer creatures can be hiding. And I can’t get turned about that way.

Light cuts through the surface of the water, but it doesn’t travel far. That’s why this plan will work. The enemy won’t see me through the water.

It takes me fifteen minutes to make the swim to the ship. When I catch the darkness of the hull underwater, I slow my approach, looking for the best place to breach the surface. The closer the better.

How does Alosa do this? I try to remind myself that she has perfect vision underwater, whereas I don’t. She’s half siren; I’m not. Still, I feel entirely out of my element below the water. But on land with a knife in my hand, I am the most dangerous of predators.

I pop my head above the surface just far enough to have my eyes out of the water. The side of the ship is massive. I don’t think I’ve ever been on so large a vessel. That bone-white wood has been patched over time and time again, and I wonder if this is the original ship that Threydan’s crew sailed over on, updated and rebuilt as time went on.

There’s no rope ladder extending down the side of the ship. Any handholds I might make use of are too spread apart for me to get all the way up the side. I swim for the fore of the ship. The bowsprit extends like a knifepoint some forty or fifty feet above the water. That’s not going to be helpful.

But the figurehead extends straight down into the water, and I’m able to get a handhold, then a foothold. Whatever the figure used to be, it has long faded with time. Not sure what the paint or wood once depicted. Something humanoid, I think.

Whatever it is, I thank the stars that it’s still intact enough for me to climb.

My muscles strain as I pull my legs out of the water. My wet clothes are unbelievably heavy and noisy, water dripping into the ocean as I climb. I move slowly, listening for any movement through the gunport above me. When I don’t hear so much as a rustle of clothing, I find another handhold and pull myself up another arm’s-length. Pause. Repeat.

When I’m just below the gunport, I carefully peer over the top of the opening. There’s very little light within the enemy’s ship, and the tunnel the ship is docked in certainly isn’t helping matters. I take that as a good sign, since I would hope that no one is bumbling around belowdecks without light to guide their way.

As I try to get a leg up, my foot slips, and I nearly plummet back into the ocean. I take a deep breath before trying again, finally pulling myself into the gunport and collapsing on the floor.

I do nothing but breathe for a full minute as I try to collect myself.

Then I stand.

I can still hear the water dripping from my clothes. That will never do. I can’t very well walk around the ship like this. I wring out my braids as best I can. Then I pull off my shirt and quietly squeeze all the water from it. My eyes dart around the dark area for any sign of movement, but there is none, so I continue with my pants and boots.

In that time, my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can begin to make out shapes, like the barrel of gunpowder next to the cannons. I open it and help myself, putting dry grit into my pistol so it’ll actually be of some use should I need it. There’s even cloth for cleaning out the cannons. I use it to dry the soles of my boots as well as my weapons.

Then I start to explore.

The fore cannons are located in a small room of their own. I crack open the door at the end—soundlessly, thankfully—and peer through the other side. Water storage. And on the other side of that, the gun deck. Stars, but whoever built this vessel intended on it being put through a ton of sea battles. That’ll be fortunate for us once she’s in our possession.

When I have a choice to go above deck or below, I head down first. Above, I’ll lose my cover. I’ll be visible to all who pay attention. And anyone on the main deck is more likely to be alert.

No one expects an attack from within.

Besides, I need to make a scene, not get killed before I can sufficiently distract the crew.

I take the steps lightly. Only one manages to creak, but since ships creak and groan all on their own, either no one hears or no one makes anything of it.

When I reach the lower level, which houses the crew’s quarters, I find six individuals in the bunks. The majority are sleeping, likely before their shifts on watch tonight. But two converse quietly. I pick up only a couple of words. Something to do with fishing at high tide.

Six is more than enough to raise an alarm. I’ll thin their numbers a bit first, but I need to be quick.

The Drifta nearest me is fast asleep, and I creep through the shadows until I’m level with his hammock. My knife cuts across his throat silently, and his gasp is barely a breath of air, easily masked by the whispering at the end of the room.

The next sleeping body is on the top bunk: too high for me to reach without climbing up and waking him. So I swing myself onto the middle hammock, take aim, and thrust my knife point through where I judge his neck must be resting. Blood drips down my blade and onto my hands. The choking sound is less capable of being masked this time.

The whispering couple cut off and look toward my end of the ship. I stay where I am in the hammock, blood dripping on my clothing in a steady rhythm.

“Anderrin?” one of the two asks, standing from their bunk. She pads this way on sock-covered feet. I hold absolutely still, pretending to be another sleeping person.

The approaching woman pays me no mind as she strides right up to her crewman, climbs the ladder next to the bunk, and peers into his hammock. It begins to sway, so I assume she must be trying to rouse him.

Quick as a snake, I lash out, slicing into her gut, which is now on level with me. She cries out, before falling to the ground. I manage to keep hold of my knife as she lands.

That wakes the other two who were sleeping and alerts the one who had been conversing with the woman I just killed. I fling my dagger in the direction of the nearest one, who tries to get out of his hammock. He’s not at the right angle for me to cause serious damage, so I aim for the rope holding up his bunk instead. He starts to tumble downward and tangle in the sheets, which buys me time with the two still trying to get their bearings.

When my feet hit the ground, the first newly awakened woman already has her sword raised and pistol cocked. I throw another knife at the hand with the pistol, and it sinks into her flesh, resulting in the firearm dropping to the floor. She screams.

There we go.

I pounce before she has a chance to recover. My rapier sneaks past her guard, piercing her heart. Before I can pull the blade out, another sword swings for me, and I flatten myself to the floor to miss it. I pull out a second dagger as I roll and come up on my feet so I can hold one in each hand.

I have two opponents now: the man who finally freed himself from the sheets, and the woman who just took a swipe at me. They charge together.

I duck under the first swing, catch the second between crossed daggers, and kick out at the man. My blow lands right between his legs, and he goes down with a groan.

The woman holds her blade in two hands and starts swinging left and right, trying to hit me from all angles. I’m no more than a blur as I leap and dodge and deflect. She’s relentless with her attacks, and she even flings insults at me that require too much of my attention to translate.

After ducking her latest swing, I shove a dagger through the thickest part of her foot, effectively pinning her in place. She shrieks and slashes downward. I shuffle out of the way and place my remaining dagger through her other foot.

I race for my rapier. I sight the corpse and get my hands on my sword, when something painful connects with my back. I turn to find the upright woman’s sword on the ground next to me. It hit hilt first, effectively bruising me, but nothing more. I can’t believe she would try to throw it.

The man is still trying to work through the pain between his legs, and he’s rolling back and forth on the floor. Meanwhile, I rush at the woman I’ve left with my daggers.

Seeing me approaching, she grits her teeth and reaches for both daggers simultaneously. With another scream, she frees herself and tries to fend me off. But her wounded feet make her slow. I get under her guard in no time and send my sword point through her midsection.

I retrieve my daggers and approach the final man. He’s finally gotten his feet underneath him again, though he walks with a sort of limp. He flings a word at me. One I do translate, but it doesn’t merit repeating.

A bell clangs above deck. Finally. I was starting to think the rest of the Drifta couldn’t hear all the screaming coming from down here.

The remaining man sneers at me, looking rather proud at the sound of that bell.

“What makes you think they’ll arrive in time to save you?” I ask him in his language.

His face falls as I charge.