Chapter 48
S O R E N
T he three of us—Basilisk, myself, and Ritter—are guided up to the wheel while the rest go down below. Tempest glares out at the churning ocean with a fury that makes the hairs on my arms rise. Her rage feels elemental, as if she herself is part of the storm brewing around us.
“We’re welcome back?” I yell out over the howling winds, lowering my head to keep the rain from pelting into my eyes. I grip the rail’s handles like my life depends on it—which, to be fair, it certainly fucking does.
Her face contorts with rage that carves deep lines in her face, her grip fastened to the pegs of the wheel. “He. Branded. My. DAUGHTER !” Her scream pierces the storm, a flash of lighting briefly illuminating us all.
It’s a shout that looks like madness, but the determination and primal hunt in her eyes, mixing with an aura that I’ve never felt so coherent, tells me exactly why she is the pirate queen.
Blackwell is absolutely fucked if she gets a hand on him.
“HOLD!” Tempest shouts, the few men around her all kneeling down and gripping the rails. We all do their actions, and the shout to hold echoes through the ship. She glances at the three of us. “Get your feet tucked in!”
My gaze falls to hers, and below her wheel is a place to insert her feet that’s bolted to the floor. Fuck .
My body presses against the banister as the Sea Wolf pitches violently. I hold on to the best of my ability, my body jolting into the wooden barrier when it feels like the tip of the ship hits a wall, my boots losing any footing, even while sitting down, only for my weight to then be pulled away from the banister as the ship lurches up , before seeming to even out.
Basilisk shoots me a look of pure, unfiltered hatred for the ocean, and I couldn’t agree more.
“Tempest!” Ritter shouts.
The pirate queen looks at him. “Get your sea legs, Scorpion! I called you three up here to say you can be on my ship as long as you all pledge your swords to kill any and all men on that fucking ship! Except Blackwell. He is mine ! When it’s safe, you can all go below deck.”
The ship feels momentarily weightless once more, and I’m ready for it when Tempest yells for us all to brace ourselves.
“While we’re here, what’s the plan?” Ritter cries out, pressing against the rails to find a good position.
“We’re ramming Blackwell’s ship! The sirens follow us,” Tempest declares, another crack of lightning reflecting against the wetness of her leather jacket. “If we fall into the water, they will save us. Do not fear the ocean!”
Basilisk tilts his head toward her. “Did you really fuck the ocean god?”
I look at him with the same glare I throw Bones when he’s crossing lines, but to my shock, Tempest laughs. “He sired Moriganna! And he is not happy.”
“Then why doesn’t he just crash that ship?” I shout.
“Morvock is protecting it, and Ta’Kan doesn’t take the flesh. Only on a full moon does he come to me, and Morvock sails on a nearly moonless night.”She braces herself to steer the ship before adding, “So I will do it.”
The ship undergoes another violent dip before rising again, and that’s when Tempest shouts for us to go below deck. We move as quickly as possible on this ship, the raging sea utterly unnerving as it surrounds us in massive swells.
Everything swings that isn’t fully lashed, like lanterns with no fire in them. Tempest’s crew stands with determination, as if each wash of the ocean is rejuvenating and not fucking obnoxious.
The ship begins to dip once more, and I grip a pillar as the floor is removed from beneath my feet, Ritter and Basilisk both grabbing onto what they can as we ride through this wave before we’re able to make our way to where everyone is lashing down.
I move to one of the few windows, able to see more clearly without the rain in my eyes. There aren’t many times in my life where I feel genuinely uncomfortable.
Now is one of them.
The swells are so large, so striped with white cap water, and the skies so angry and full of lightning, it’s as if even touching the ocean is certain death. Ocean water sprays against the side of the ship, and I’m convinced each time the wood will break.
So much groaning of wood and rope.
But even then, I can see the silhouette of Darkwater, the fire at the prow seemingly out.
We’re coming, Jane.