36. Breaking
brEAKING
As the haunting lifted, summer returned to the Fortuna Royale on a briny breeze, turning the night so warm and balmy that the pirates shed their coats.
Jonah didn’t linger after Fiero was taken to the Neptune, bound and gagged. But as he turned to leave, he stopped at Cecily’s side by the gangplank.
“Should you ever need to call on me,” he said gruffly, “I’ll listen for you.”
Bracing herself for another goodbye, Cecily nodded. Perhaps this time would be easier, if only because she knew he would be out in the world somewhere. Brief as their encounter may have been, she cherished his existence, even for the mere gift of getting to see her father’s face once more.
Though Jonah’s vengeance was satisfied and he had no further business here, he hesitated, the last ghost on the Fortuna Royale. But his farewell did not come.
Jonah met her gaze, and she saw her own reluctance mirrored in his eyes. Without a word, he dug into his coat, retrieved the scale-dagger, and sliced into his palm next to the first wound. He flickered into being, becoming as solid as herself.
And he stood there, silently waiting for what neither of them could bring themselves to ask for from someone who inexplicably did not look like a stranger.
Cecily stepped close to wrap her arms around him. He hugged her shoulders, and God above, the feeling so closely matched some of the most precious moments from her past.
It didn’t last as long as either might have wished, but it was enough for a grieving father who’d never gotten to say goodbye, and plenty for a daughter who would have done anything to greet her father one last time.
They parted, his expression passive, hers carefully neutral. He cleared his throat, muttered, “Thank you,” then mounted the gangplank. He crossed to the Neptune, dropped to the deck, and he and his ship vanished.
Cecily stared at the spot where she’d last seen him. A minute passed in silence, the crew watching the night as though Jonah might appear again and go back on his deal.
Then someone muttered, “Holy shit.”
Quiet mumbling rustled over the deck, punctuated with chuckles and swears. They were no longer haunted, and joy returned with relief.
Rough fingers passed over the back of Cecily’s hand as Jack came to stand next to her.
His eyes were tired but free of dread, finally back to the clarity she’d missed for two weeks.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her, then pulled her into his embrace, his face buried in her neck, his hand in her hair, and his other arm wrapped around her shoulders.
She closed her eyes and held tightly to his waist, inhaling the warm scent of him as his heart beat next to hers. Her mind was silent, spared from guilt and remorse, and allowed to revel in simply living.
There was no villain or ordeal to face. No hearts to win—just this. Just Jack and her friends and her crew.
Just life.
Nearby, Copson called the sailors to order, sending the day crew back to their quarters to rest until dawn while the night crew were tasked with cleaning and repairing what they could in the few hours before sunrise, at which point the others would take over.
Cecily chose to stay with Jack, working alongside him as the sky lightened. Hester and Greyson stayed too, and both assured her that giving away the tide stones was preferable to death. Greyson would find other pretty stones for Hester’s bracelet.
Just before the sun began to crest the horizon, a sailor in the crow’s nest called out as another ship approached, but within minutes, Copson declared they were friendly.
They were close enough to England to happen upon other ships, and several of them had deals with Copson to carry and dispense his loot or bring him supplies when he was so close to home.
Dawn broke by the time the ship reached them. Copson paid the other captain for new sails, fresh food, and water, since the haunting had spoiled most of what they had. As the day crew took over most of the labor, the night crew began to wander off to bed, their drowsy eyes half-shut.
Jack caught Cecily as she was about to cross the gangplank to help bring over the last of what Copson had purchased.
“I have an idea,” he said with a sleepy smile. He held her close, easing them toward the lower decks. “Let’s go somewhere far away for a little while. Somewhere new and beautiful, far from ships and the sea.”
“Sounds like you’ve got somewhere in mind,” she said, letting him pull her a few steps.
“I know a place you might like.” He jerked his head toward the steps. “Come. I’ll tell you.”
There were secrets in his gaze—good ones that promised she’d be pleased.
She placed her hand on his cheek, sweeping her thumb over one of the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He pressed his hand over hers and kissed her palm. “Hurry along, darling.”
She lightly pushed him toward the steps, and he headed off with the last of his crew. When he was gone, she turned for the other ship, crossed the gangplank, and headed for the crates stacked in the middle of the deck. As she reached for a crate of fruit, she heard her name.
Copson stood a few paces behind her. Once he had her attention, he asked, “May I have a moment?” And though it was more a command than a question, it was polite.
He’d never bothered to be polite. Intrigued, she followed him into the room beneath the quarterdeck.
The captain’s quarters on this ship were smaller than Copson’s; there was a bed and a table laden with mapping instruments, but otherwise it was largely bare. This was a ship that stayed close to home, and didn’t carry a life as grand as the pirate’s.
Copson shut the door behind them and came to stand before her in the center of the room. Her gaze caught on a bag on the desk, its canvas sides bulging with uneven, round divots that suggested it was filled with money—and a fat lot of it.
“Cecily.” Copson drew up the end of her name like a question, though he maintained the deep, knowing tone he always used with her, like she was up to something he intended to scold her for before her antics could reach their conclusion.
She looked away from the money and met his gaze. His eyes lacked both malice and judgment replaced with…
She blinked. She must be reading him wrong. She was exhausted from too little sleep, haunting, and battle, and now she must be hallucinating because surely the captain wasn’t looking at her with pride.
But then he said, “I wanted to thank you,” and his voice was gentle. “You’ve saved my crew several times now, and I haven’t expressed my gratitude as I should. After last night, I cannot continue pretending to be ignorant of the immense benefit you are to me.”
One side of her mouth lifted in a sardonic smirk, though she was genuinely pleased—if she wasn’t dreaming. “You knew I was useful.”
“You’ve proven yourself to be much more. We wouldn’t be alive without you. And to further barter for my future with Jonah? You’ve won me a powerful ally. For that, as well as the business with the serpent, the haunting, Robin’s map, and convincing Jonah to spare us…thank you.”
He didn’t smile as he spoke those last words, letting them fall heavily between them. He meant what he said, and she tried to keep her breathing steady as she was overwhelmed by this sudden shift in attitude.
“I need you to know I am grateful,” he continued. “And you have won me over despite my protests and the way I’ve treated you. I was wrong. You are one of the best pirates I’ve ever had in my company. One I dread to lose.”
She nearly told him she was here to say, obviously, but she didn’t get the chance as he said, “But I need you to go.”
Cecily stopped herself before she could laugh, because she’d misheard him. She was so tired. But then she was hit by the ridiculousness of such a request and burst into laughter anyway.
Copson didn’t so much as crack a smile. Regret shadowed his eyes as he held her gaze, and her laughter ebbed.
“You…you’re serious,” she said.
“I am.”
Her smile fell. “You’re asking me to leave.” She shook her head when he didn’t refute it. Her thoughts buffeted, tossing her between so many questions as to why, why now, why after he’d said all those things? “I couldn’t. I won’t.”
He didn’t look angry or petulant—only remorseful as he said, “I won’t command you, Cecily. But if you care about Jack, you’ll leave. You’ll go far away, start the new life you fought so hard for, and forget him.”
She gave another incredulous laugh. She knew why he asked this of her, the truth he skated around.
If he was determined to keep it a secret, she’d bring it out in the open if only as a card to play against him—because apparently their game wasn’t finished.
“Because I’m unsuitable for your secret, well-born life on land? ”
Shock flashed through his eyes, but he concealed it just as quickly. He released a slow breath, quieter than a sigh but equally resolved.
“Did you think it was hard to guess?” she asked, her voice low to keep it from wobbling.
This was perhaps the only way she might convince Copson she was worthy.
He couldn’t be rid of her if she held knowledge of their dangerous secret.
“You raised your son well. As much as he is a pirate, he’s also something else entirely. I know him.”
His eyes darkened. “What exactly do you think you know?”
“Enough,” she said. “I know why he chose me, and that he was intentional to do so.”
She expected him to laugh, but he only pursed his lips. “Because he loves you,” he said, and there was unexpected tenderness in his voice. “And you love him.”
“I do. And I was raised for a life like that. I would have been a baroness—I can be the wife of a gentleman.”
His eyes squeezed. “A gentleman,” he repeated.
“That’s why you think me unsuitable, isn’t it?” she dared to ask. “Because I’m common.”