Chapter 23
Annabelle pushed herself up to a sitting position. She rubbed her head, feeling a bump forming above her ear where she’d hit it on the stone ground. Her shoulder ached. She stood. She was dizzy for a moment, but the feeling quickly passed.
“Belle!” Court called to her as the men struggled in their bonds.
“Wilkes, you traitor!” Blackham pounded on the door. “Falco, open this blasted d—” His voice cut off, his hand clenching the key hanging from his neck. His back went tense, his breathing heavy.
Annabelle drew her sword as she started toward her friends, ready to cut their bonds.
“You!” Blackham stepped into her path. “This is all your fault, wench!” All pretense gone, the man’s face was a mask of fury. Without warning, he struck her across her face, causing her to stumble back and drop her weapon.
Annabelle put a hand to her cheek, stunned. She’d never been struck before, and the experience was both painful and insulting. She blinked away her tears.
The men were yelling angrily, voices echoing around the cavern. But whether their shouts were directed at her or Blackham, she didn’t know. Her ears were ringing. Annabelle backed up as Blackham stalked toward her. His eyes had gone entirely black, and the sight turned her insides to ice.
The cold wall of the cavern stopped her. She edged to the side, but she was not fast enough.
Blackham caught her neck in one hand and pressed his other hand to the wall, trapping her. Any sign of humanity was gone from his expression.
Annabelle grabbed onto his hand, trying to loosen it as her breath was choked.
“I’d intended to spare you,” he said. “At least for a while.” His face was so close that his breath blew hot over her skin. “But you’ve left me no choice.”
Annabelle clawed at his hand, her fingernails scraping at his skin, desperate for air. Spots burst in front of her eyes. Her friends continued to yell, but their voices sounded farther away.
She tried to turn her head, but Blackham held her fast, both hands on her neck, now.
“Don’t worry about them,” he said in a voice that was nearly a purr. “I’ll be here to keep them company.”
Her friends were bound, unable to defend themselves.
Annabelle was their only hope. She remembered the promise she’d made to Court all those years earlier and felt a burst of courage.
Disciplining herself against the instinct to fight for breath, she let go of his hands and rammed her fingers into his eyes.
Blackham roared, releasing her to press his hands to his face. But he did not move away.
She was still trapped against the wall.
Annabelle kicked out with all her strength, hitting Blackam’s knee.
He let out a grunt of pain.
Annabelle did not stop. She kicked again, aiming for the same spot, then brought her heel down hard onto his instep.
Blackham cried out and stumbled back just enough for Annabelle to slip out from between him and the wall.
She gulped in deep breaths to clear her head. Then she ran.
The men were yelling, but all their words jumbled together, and so she blocked them out entirely, focusing on one objective: her sword. She must get to her weapon.
She had only made it a few steps before Blackham lunged at her. He winced as he shifted his weight on the knee she had kicked, and so she ducked beneath his arms, falling to the stone floor. She scampered forward on her hands and knees, and at last grasped her weapon.
The scrape of metal and the glint of firelight on a blade were all the warning she had.
Annabelle reacted exactly as she’d practiced so many times. She shot to her feet, spun, and raised her sword, blocking Blackham’s blow.
He glared at her between their crossed swords, his eyes streaming.
Annabelle’s pulse pounded in her ears, obstructing all sound. She was furious. How dare he attack her? How dare he imprison her friends? She took a step forward, and without hesitating, drove her knee upward, smashing it into him, just as Hawke had said.
Blackham dropped. He groaned, his face going red, and he curled into a ball.
“Take his weapon!” Hawke called.
Annabelle snatched up the sword, rushing across the cavern to her friends.
They were all speaking to her at once, but she couldn’t focus on their words.
By the time she reached them, she had broken into a sweat and was trembling so badly that she didn’t dare attempt to cut the ropes, lest she injure someone.
“The dirk,” Hawke said, pointing with his chin at the knife on the ground.
Annabelle dropped the two swords she held and picked up the dirk. Shadbolt was closest, so she moved to him first.
“I . . .” Her breathing was rapid as she brought the knife to his wrists. “I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know why.”
“It is a typical reaction after a battle,” Shadbolt said calmly. “Take a breath and let your blood calm.”
She sliced the rope and knelt to cut the ropes at his ankles.
Shadbolt took the blade from her and moved to release the others.
The instant Hawke’s hands were freed, he caught Annabelle’s face, gently turning her head to the side and running his fingertips over her cheekbone where she’d been struck. He tipped his head, looking at her sore neck.
Annabelle had entirely forgotten about the pain. It was as if her body had gone numb during the fight.
Shadbolt continued to cut the other ropes until all four men were free.
Annabelle leaned her cheek against Hawke’s palm.
“You executed the defensive block flawlessly,” Hawke said. His eyes sparkled. “I could not be prouder.” He held Anna-belle’s gaze, and the air between them heated.
“You were brilliant, Belle,” Grieg said, startling both of them. He pulled Annabelle to her feet, squinting at her cheek. Blackham’s blow must have left a mark. “And frankly, a little bit terrifying.”
Shadbolt took his gaze from Blackham, who was still curled on the floor, and gave a nod of approval. “I would not like to be the man who challenges you.”
“Amen to that,” Grieg said, glancing at Blackham and grimacing.
“Belle.” Court drew her into his arms. “You were so brave.”
Annabelle rested her head on his chest. Her friends were free, and she felt safe at last.
“So brave,” Blackham said in a mocking voice.
Annabelle peered around Court.
Blackham sat up, leaning against the cavern wall. His eyes were red and swollen. “We will see how brave she is when this cavern is entirely dark and she’s not eaten for days.”
Court ignored Blackham and turned Annabelle’s shoulders, facing her away from the pirate. “I suppose it was you who taught her that maneuver, Hawke?”
“Aye,” Hawke said. “But she practiced it, perfected it.”
Court gave Annabelle a warm smile. “It saved her life. It saved all of us.”
“Saved you?” Blackham snorted. “She only gave you the opportunity to die unfettered.”
Annabelle didn’t deign to spare him a glance.
Hawke and Shadbolt crossed to Blackham.
“Disarm him,” Hawke said. “And truss him.”
Shadbolt was already removing the man’s bandolier and taking the pistol from his belt. He took the key from beneath his collar, pulling until the cord snapped.
“I get his hat!” Grieg said.
Hawke glared at Blackham. “You will not speak to her ladyship again. Or even glance in her direction.”
“Or you will what?” Blackham managed to look defiant even as Shadbolt was tying his hands behind his back. “My death is already assured. There is nothing you can—”
Hawke leaned down, speaking to the prisoner in low tones Annabelle couldn’t hear.
When he moved away, Blackham was scowling, but he remained silent.
Grieg brushed dust off the captain’s feathered hat and put it on.
Hawke buckled Blackham’s belt around his own waist, and the three men returned to join Annabelle and Courtney.
“We managed to sow discord as intended,” Shadbolt said to Hawke. He nodded toward Blackham and glanced at the closed door. “But I am not certain it resulted in an advantage.”
“It is most certainly an advantage,” Hawke said.
“We are freed from our bonds, we have the key, and of course, Lady Annabelle is with us.” He picked up Blackham’s sword, looking down the blade, and then sheathed it at his waist. “This sadistic madman is confined, no longer a threat to the rest of our crew, and without him, the remaining leadership may disintegrate. Neither Wilkes nor Falco seem capable of managing the crews of three separate ships. Especially with a treasure of that size thrown into the mix.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around the cavern.
“And we have light—even if it is only for a few hours.”
Knowing they would soon be in utter darkness made Anna-belle’s chest constrict. She looked at the others. They must feel it too. How did they manage to remain calm?
“Perhaps there is another way out?” Grieg suggested. “Another door that the key will open.”
“We should search while the torches still burn,” Court said.
He looked exhausted, and Annabelle was worried about the raw wounds on his wrists. She wished there was somewhere he could sit and rest other than the stone floor.
After a moment, the group decided that, since there were three torches, Hawke and Annabelle would search one tunnel, Shadbolt and Grieg the other, and Courtney would search the walls of the treasure cavern while keeping watch over the prisoner.
“Don’t be afraid to give his knee a kick,” Hawke told him.
Hawke took a torch from one of the brackets and led Annabelle into the tunnel. They walked in a bubble of light, not knowing what was ahead and unable to see what was behind. The thought that they might happen upon another skeleton kept Annabelle close beside him.
They studied the walls of the tunnel as they continued, but as they moved deeper, a heavy sense of discouragement settled over Annabelle’s spirits. The tight feeling returned to her chest.
“Hawke, we aren’t going to get out of here, are we?”
He took her hand. “A loss of hope will only lead to despair. And as long as we have breath in our lungs, there is reason to hope.” He smiled at her. “Besides I’ve been in much worse predicaments than this.”