Chapter 24
J A N E
Two weeks later
W e’re landing today.
The sun kisses the horizon of an island that belongs to Tempest, a soft glow lighting our way. A mist lies on the morning ocean and wraps around us like we’re ghosts entering the afterlife. It’s hard to see anything outside the harbor that we enter. I breathe in the wet air as I stare at the cloud surrounding us that’s so soft, compared to the harsh, dark waters below that look like moving slate from up here.
There’s a sense of peace in this moment that feels like a precipice.
The distant sound of waves crashing against the ship makes me think of Shade, and I’m a little shocked it’s already been two weeks since that entire event. My mind constantly wanders to him, realizing how he’s just another piece of calamity in all of this, even though he still had a life himself. He was someone’s kid, maybe even a father. Someone’s family, doing what he thought he had to.
He died in a way I was positive would take me when I first met Soren.
At least, I assume he’s dead. I don’t know what the sirens decided, as I didn’t get to see them much before they disappeared back underwater. Tempest said they’ll be made aware of the verdict when this is all said and done.
The stranger part is that he really hasn’t been talked about since, like tossing him over was another part of the routine, like finding a rat and sicking a cat on it.
I don’t let my mind focus for too long on it, because he’s a man who made his decisions. For better or for worse, it didn’t work for him.
It’s how our world is.
Glancing up, Tempest stands at the ship’s helm, staring at a lighthouse whose burning flames guide her home. A network of weather-worn docks and wharves sprawl outward through the mist, every inch of it owned by this pirate queen.
Being on her ship is a trip I’ll never forget, that’s for sure.
It was quiet, overall, and I did, in fact, partake in many mock sparrings. Soren trained pretty much the majority of the time, grumpily eating his beans to help him maintain his energy and girth.
Dad was enigmatic as always, and I guess that’s the new father I have to get used to. It’s so different from when I was a kid, but it’s honestly not important now. I’m focused solely on what I have to do to destroy everyone who thinks they’ll use me like I’m a puppet.
That miserable cunt of a god seriously thinks he can use my skin, and breed me like I’m a fucking bitch in heat? The concept is so laughable, it doesn’t even worry me.
Death will be greeted like an old friend if that happens.
My hair gently tugs in the wind, the strands dry and salty; I didn’t braid it much while on this ship, because my arms grow too tired when I have to do it again for the fifth time.Braziers and torches are lit among the sandy shores, pine and palm trees scattering over the land. High up on a cliff’s edge is a giant flag with the outline of a red siren on it—what I’ve been told is the original Jolly Roger. On the dark side of the island, in the morning sun’s shadow, is what looks like a verdant jungle through the haze.
The pirate queen’s personal dock is unmistakable as it comes into view, a stretch of obsidian-black wood extending out into the bay.
Honestly, the primary thing I really notice is that it doesn’t seem overly fortified.
As the crew aligns the ship to glide into the dock, the scent of salt and jungle fills the air, mingling with the faint, acrid smell of burning pitch and sea-soaked wood. The island hums with latent energy, or maybe that’s just the mist.
The Sea Wolf creaks and groans as over a dozen fat ropes are tossed over the edge, landing with loud thuds on the pier as men below use them to wrap around cleats.
Soren stands a few feet away, and Bones peers over to look at me before sauntering closer. He grabs the rails of the boat, leaning down a few times before facing me. “Bet you didn’t expect to be around a bunch of pirates in all this.”
I allow a half-smile. “I’ve had fun on this ship.” I look out at the dock again, noticing a wolf’s head carved out of wood on one of the buildings. “Why is it a wolf, by the way? Sort of random, given the whole ocean image.”
“From the way I hear it, Tempest grew up in the Huntswoods. There are a bunch of wolves out there, and she claims they were her first true friend.” He raises his brow. “Wouldn’t put it past her. She leads like an alpha wolf.”
The people on deck start to move to a long, wooden plank that connects with the pier. Soren waits for me, looking me over before eyeing the island. We traverse this narrow strip of wood, and I struggle slightly with my balance. Once down on the piers, I can’t believe I’m actually dizzy the longer I stand there, like I can’t seem to find the right footing.
“Welcome to Stormbreak” Soren says behind me.
I swear the air smells like saltwater and rum . There’s even singing from somewhere nearby. The place is a mismatched ramshackle that reminds me of the harbor at Skull’s Row, but more tropical.
I turn around when I hear a thumping on the ship, like a low drum coming from the very top, but it has to be the remaining men stomping their feet. Tempest begins her descent, wearing her leather long coat. A solid gold line is painted down her face in contrast against her dark skin. Quite a few pirates begin walking down the shoreline, hollering for her.
Her skull mask is at her hip, the design so different from Soren’s or my dad’s—the forehead is covered entirely in seamless gold, all pointing down to form the same golden line that’s on her face. Shiny gold metal is perfectly painted on her lips, and also a solid, thick line around the eyes. When she gets closer, I can see that there are many ornate patterns, but they’re all black, so the only smooth surface is where the metal cuts through.
Once ashore, she grins at her men. “We drink tonight! I have a feeling a hurricane is coming,” she says grimly. “And if we’re lucky, a god’s coffers are up for pillaging.”
Cheering erupts, many chatting with a camaraderie I do not see in the streets of home. Tempest strides away as many holler, her boots striking the wooden steps with purpose.
My body is sore from all the training, but I do feel stronger and more capable than before, even if my head still spins. I follow Tempest when I’m guided that way, Dad somewhere behind, along with Donna, Rorge, and his people.
“I think Jane has land legs,” Soren says from behind me, although it’s clear he’s speaking to Tempest when she turns around and I stop, her dark gaze looking me over.
“I’ll have someone bring you legging s.”
“What?”
“It’s what we call the tonic that will help,” she says, pointing at my head, spinning her finger around. “You’re wobbling. It happens to the best of us. It’s hard transitioning from the motion of the ship to something stagnant. A shot of that will clear it up for you.”
Without skipping a beat, she smoothly faces ahead again, guiding us through and away from the wharf. The salty tang of the air mingles with the richer, earthier scent of damp wood and the faint smokiness of torches burning in iron sconces once we’re further inland. It’s so humid, too, and I quickly miss the breeze that would frequent the deck.
To one side, a group of pirates huddle around a weathered table beneath an overhang, their laughter loud as they toss dice and slap down coins with calloused hands, all pausing to silence and lower their heads as Tempest passes. A parrot perched on the shoulder of one squawks something unintelligible and seems to mimic them, too.
Brightly colored sails are repurposed as awnings or hammocks, shading market stalls laden with exotic goods—gleaming pearls, polished bones carved into trinkets, and bottles of strange liquids, and even one woman is selling shriveled hands. Another vendor waves a stick of roasted meat through the air, the smell making my stomach grumble despite my nerves, desperate to eat fresh meat. Somewhere nearby, a blacksmith hammers at glowing metal with a rhythmic clang.
It never dawned on me that there would be an ecosystem of merchants here. I don’t even really think I gave it much thought, to consider a kingdom belonging to one person.
Tempest doesn’t pause for anything, weaving through the chaos with so much belonging that I cannot imagine living a life where everyone knows me, and they live on my land. I struggle to keep up, nearly tripping when I sidestep a burly pirate dragging a net filled with wriggling, silver-scaled fish. He grunts a half-apology before barking at a kid to haul over a barrel of salt.
The bustling life of Tempest’s harbor finally fades as we climb a winding path toward the more wooded part of the island, the surrounding sand morphing slightly into soil around our walkway. Tempest points out a single-story shanty with a roof made of woven palm leaves and shutters painted a faded, peeling red. It’s nestled among a cluster of similar homes, overlooking the sea from its perch on a rocky rise.
“There are nicely arranged shanties that way,” she says, motioning with her hand. “It’s where all your men can stay, Soren. Provisions will be provided. This home here will be for you and Miss Jane.”
It’s interesting that this time, there’s no need for Soren and me to be housed together. I’m not his prisoner, nor his bounty. There’s clearly space for us to have our own separate quarters and yet she’s automatically pairing us together.
Clearly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need that man’s invasion of my heart at night to sleep soundly.
The door creaks open when she guides us in, revealing a sparsely furnished room with three hammocks strung on ceiling beams. A table dominates the opposite wall, its surface strewn with a scatter of crumpled maps, half-burnt candles, and empty bottles. The air is slightly musty but tolerable, the space dimly lit from the morning light that pours through the cracks of shuttered windows. Tempest steps inside and opens the shutters—no glass for the windows. “You’ll want the hammocks to sleep in to help with the dizziness. A shot of leggings is already in place inside, the one with the green cork. We usually keep it here.” She looks me up and down, smirking. “The pirate look works for you.”
I stare after her as she leaves the shanty, the sound of her speaking to others getting drowned out the further she moves away from us. Behind me, Soren’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Are you alright to stay in here, by yourself? Everything about this island feels neutral to me, and while it’s peaceful, I want to get things arranged.”
I glance over my shoulder, managing a faint smile. “Of course. I’m just a little dizzy, like my legs can’t catch any balance.”
“It’s why Skull’s harbor is a clusterfuck of levels that all seem like they move. It’s easier to walk on that than hard land.” He leans forward to brush his lips against my forehead, more so my bandana, in a fleeting moment of tenderness. “I need to ensure everyone is settled properly. And the men need a proper moment of silence for those that died, probably a round of ale or rum. You can come to that, but you should rest for a moment and let that shot work. There will be a dozen of your father’s men outside while I’m gone. He already agreed to it.”
It’s so odd to think my dad and Soren are talking about me when I’m not around, even arranging my safety. Just over two months ago, it was only Kathleen looking out for my shadow…
Gods that hits me hard.
I fucking miss her.
I nod at Soren, my smile lessening. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m going to drink that leg stuff and lie down in a hammock for a bit.”
Soren hesitates, that space between words where something more might be spoken opening between us, but he turns to leave, his stride purposeful as the door swings shut behind him. I’ve gotten used to him needing to depart quickly, his people relying on his presence.
“ We’re at Stormbreak, but don’t let down your guard,” Soren says, and it’s clear he’s speaking to those who are stationed outside. “Be as quiet as possible, so Jane can rest. The nights are about to become very long. My men will be here to rotate out with you shortly .” That’s the last I hear of him as I spot Soren walking away through a crack in the shutters near the front.
The shanty settles into quietness as I’m left alone, save for the faint creak of wood expanding and contracting under the island’s humidity.
Uncorking the bottle and downing the liquid in one go, my face scrunches and my body gives a little shudder, a sharp, earthy tang of crushed leaves, followed by a jarring spice that burns like fire—or what I imagine it feels like to be singed, now that I realize I’ll never truly know. It’s smoothed over by an unexpected creaminess, almost like milk, but it sure as hells won’t be something I reach for frequently. Grimacing, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and sink into the nearest hammock. It sways gently as I let my body relax into it. Sure enough, the motion is quite soothing in comparison to a floor that seems far too stable.
I close my eyes, trying to ground myself. The dizziness slowly starts to ebb, my breathing slowing. When I open them again, the morning light has shifted, painting the room in streaks of amber and gray through the window Tempest opened, the one that overlooks the ocean.
A shadow flits across the wall, along with the sound of flapping, feathery wings.
I fall out of the hammock in a panic, landing only slightly gracefully. My heart races as black feathers flap fiercely inside the shanty. A raven banks a sharp left before landing on the table, its crimson eyes gleaming, unnaturally burning with intelligence.
I don’t have enough time to register what I’m experiencing before feathers dissolve into smoke, its body twisting, elongating, reforming into something altogether more human.
Cypress .
She settles into her form like she might if she were floating underwater, her black eyes teeming with unsettling, predatory energy. “Hello, Jane,” she says, her voice carrying the faintest otherworldly echo.
Fuck.