Chapter 7 Overpriced Liquor
Overpriced Liquor
SYORAN
Nursing a new glass of whiskey, since I hadn’t been able to enjoy the one in the brothel, I lifted my gaze to the man of the hour.
Seated behind his desk, he pinched the needle between his lips. As he secured the gauze against his side, I extended a piece of tape, and he took it without reply. Once he’d secured all four corners, he glanced up at me, the glasses he rarely wore settling on the bridge of his nose.
“What?” he questioned, lowering his shirt to conceal the various scars adorning his body—some aged by a decade, others far newer.
I merely shrugged, my eyes shifting to the bottle of liquor I’d stolen from Seirdra’s Veil. Hell, we were pirates for a reason. Plundering and theft were inherently second nature, and I sure as fuck wasn’t about to miss out on the sharp burn of pricey alcohol.
“Oh, nothing,” I answered, taking another swig.
He reached forward for the bottle, and I went for the knife on my hip. Slamming its sharpened tip between his middle and forefinger, it deeply penetrated the dark oak with an unspoken warning.
“Not in the mood to share?” he crooned, crimson irises igniting with the challenge.
“More than happy to,” I started, my tongue trailing across my lips. “Once you inform me who the fuck the woman is that you brought on this godsdamned ship.”
“I already told you—”
“Cut the bullshit.” The snarl tumbled from me as I leveraged the hilt to angle the sharpened edge against the webbing between his fingers.
“Sure, entertainment is a warranted excuse, but I know you, Vayne, and you don’t act without purpose.
So, do you want to tell me who she is? Or should I list off everything I know about Ms. Rohen Levitte? ”
Rolling his eyes, he pulled his already wrapped hand back and folded both arms over his chest as he sank further into his chair. “Doesn’t it seem somewhat redundant to sit and inform you of her history if you’ve already done your research, Kao?”
I fucking hate it when he uses my last name.
“Syoran,” I corrected, my brows narrowing.
The hint of a smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, my apologies, I thought this conversation was fixated on formalities only.”
Clenching my jaw until it popped, I tore the knife free.
With a simple toss, I adjusted my grip before my throw sent it into the plush, red-cushioned backing of Caspian’s chair.
Its steel length impaled the fabric with ease, nicking the right side of his cheek.
His lineage bloomed from the small laceration, and my expression shifted to mirror his.
“That’s warning number two, Cas, and you’re well-acquainted with what happens when you hit three.”
Without moving an inch, he reached up, tearing the blade free.
Flipping it from hilt to tip, he extended the handle to me with a simple lift of a brow.
“Rohen Levitte is Malrik Ravelle’s most esteemed assassin and his favorite play toy.
He was present in the brothel, and undoubtedly watched me outbid that fucking prick without so much as lifting a finger.
Does that mean he won’t trail us to get her back?
Absolutely not. But back to your question, yes.
” He leaned back once more after handing me my knife, swiping his thumb across his cheek to collect his blood.
“Part of the reason I purchased her for twenty-five thousand coin is for the crew’s enjoyment, but the other part is the advantage she gives us by merely existing. ”
“Which is what exactly?”
He held up a finger. “Her aptitude for being an efficient executioner.” Adding another, he continued, “And her connection to the crown. With her in our hands and Ravelle’s unrequited willingness to bow before the king, she becomes the perfect pawn for negotiation.
Seems the king sent his best after his own. ”
“And how does Saph feel about this?”
He rubbed his eyes with his palms before scratching his stubbled jawline with his wrapped hand—the hand Rohen had apparently bitten. “Saph doesn’t know.”
“What don’t I know?” The sharp feminine hum came from the doorway; her ability to slip into spaces without anyone knowing was still something I wasn’t used to, even after sailing with her over the past four years.
Sapphira had stumbled onto our ship when we ported in Velispar, her clothes shredded to nearly nothing.
Her body had been battered and bruised, blooms of green and purple coating her tattooed skin to the point that her natural complexion became questionable.
Her disheveled state didn’t mesh with the artistry of the inland town renowned for glass trinkets and smoke-wreathed festivals, but her story wasn’t unheard of.
She and her partner had crossed into Velispar without proper papers. When the royal guard responsible for importing goods from the mystical town into Serevalen found out, they’d punished them in an area they held no jurisdiction in without direct orders from the king.
Saph, the fiery spirit she was, had fought back, and the soldiers responded in kind, beating her until she was near death.
Her counterpart, Lorelie, offered herself to save the woman she loved.
The men happily accepted, slapping her in cuffs as Saph struggled to push herself up.
Screaming for them to take her instead, they didn’t listen, and that was the last time she’d seen Lorelie.
It was a sacrifice that had become far too common in our world, people tossing themselves into the hands of brutality to ensure those they wished to keep safe remained that way.
The ruthlessness of inland life had only worsened in the four years that followed, and our desire to stay at sea grew as the overseers who once swore to protect us dismantled humanity limb by limb.
Every town reeked of corruption, and while we were tainted in our own right, there was something far more potent, far more insidious that seeded itself in the heart of Serevalen and rippled outward until the rest of the continent was polluted with the same putridity.
“Why do you do that?” I questioned, turning to glance over my shoulder at her.
She stepped further into Caspian’s cabin, her hips swaying with the familiarity of her stride.
The sword sheathed against her thigh bounced.
Its intricate golden hilt, something she’d crafted herself, extended from the belt she cinched around her waist. Dangling from her mouth was a joint, wrapped with a perfect hand.
Sapphira was the only woman on our deck for a reason: she could stand her ground.
As a weaponsmith and our crew’s preferred roller, she was well-respected.
Well, that, and the fact that Caspian and I demanded nothing less.
Women were off limits unless purchased from a brothel, and Philly, one of our riggers, had learned the hard way when he tried to get handsy with Saph—not only had she nearly busted his balls, but Caspian had taken his time cutting off each of his fingers on the hand he’d elected to brush across Saph’s ass.
Our captain seemed to have a thing for robbing people of their ability to wield a blade, but Philly had stuck around and taught himself how to fasten the sails one-handed.
“Do what?” she hummed, taking a lengthened drag before pulling it from her lips to offer it to us. “Boys?”
Caspian put a hand up to decline, his vice existing with the bottle between us, containing the rich, brown liquid. While he wasn’t opposed to smoking, he preferred alcohol to cleanse his soul, and if he elected to do the former, it’d always been tobacco, never herb.
Never Dream Root.
Snatching it from her fingers before she could pull back, I brought it to my mouth and devoured a mounting lungful of its bitter-sweet burn. The tendrils of its effects slithered through my system, rushing to my head with an intensity that sent the room spinning.
Once satisfied, I pulled it free, offering it back to her as I expelled a wall of smoke. Coughing between each word, I tucked my face in the crook of my arm as my eyes immediately started to water. “W-What… the fuck… is in that?”
“Nothing special; it’s just from the stash we looted from Veilmar.”
“That’s meant for special occasions, Saph,” Caspian practically growled, his glower settling on our esteemed navigator and quartermaster—Saph was truly a jack of all trades and just as equally a master of them. “Why are you indulging in things you know you should not be touching?”
“It’s one joint, Caspian, not the end of the world.
” She took another drag and shook her head, her gold hoop earrings swaying alongside her brown hair, which rested just below her chin.
While holding the smoke in her lungs, she continued, “You are also aware I’m very efficient in the amount I use and that I ensure nothing goes to waste.
Besides, if we are talking about dipping fingers where they don’t belong, shouldn’t we be addressing you? ”
Caspian’s brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you on about—?”
“Oh, you know,” she granted the herbal cloud freedom, “the red-headed bitch in the brig who is still unconscious, by the way. What the hell did you do to her, Vayne?”
Refined weaponsmith. Skilled roller. Irreplaceable navigator. Demanding quartermaster. Observant gossip hunter.
“Who told you?” Caspian demanded, pushing himself up from where he sat.
Leaning forward, she tapped the edge of the joint against his ashtray. “Why does it matter? Were you not going to?”
His hands slapped against the wood, his patience faltering. “That isn’t what I fucking asked, Sapphira, and I’m not playing this fucking game with you. Who told you?”
“I’d tell him,” I suggested. “Before you find yourself strung up by your intestines, as he’ll do to whichever poor bastard goes against his demand for discretion.”
“It doesn’t—”
“Sapphira. I will not fucking ask again,” Caspian snapped as he lifted a hand to silence her before she spoke, the crimson in his irises seeming to shift to mirror the bloodlust that pumped through his veins. “And before you open your godsdamned mouth to argue with me, you are replaceable.”
He wasn’t wrong. We all were.
“Since it’s that dire, it was Tobias. He informed me you brought an unconscious woman onboard and told the men manning your deck that she was off limits until she woke up, but that she had been purchased for the crew.
” She blew out a lengthened breath, resting the joint between her lips once more.
“That seems extremely soft of you to treat a whore with such consideration, especially when you purchased her solely for her body to be used to fulfill your men’s desires. ”
Caspian was in front of her before either of us could blink, the blade I’d re-sheathed freed from my waist by his hand and against her throat. “If you desire to continue testing my good graces, I have no issue cutting out your tongue, so I do not have to hear—”
“But I use my tongue for many things. As you are aware, Captain—”
“Enough!” I growled, sobered by my growing agitation.
“While Caspian may be kind enough to spare your life, I will not be nearly as forgiving. You have a role and a place within this crew, Sapphira, and it seems you may have forgotten where you sit in our ranks of authority. So, either correct your fucking behavior, or I will leverage my title as second in command to handle you accordingly. And by handle, I mean butcher.”
Her lips curled into a snarl, her brows dropping to hood her glare. “I fucking got it the first time, and I obliged, but since you wish to continue tossing rank around, I will see myself out.” Attention snapping back to Caspian, she crooned, “As long as I have your permission, Captain.”
“Get the fuck out of my quarters,” he snapped in reply, removing the refined edge of the knife from her neck.
Lifting her hands out of obligation rather than surrender, she bowed slightly. With a quick pivot, she turned her back to us, heading for the door she’d silently entered only moments ago.
“Oh, and Saph,” Caspian hummed, dragging his finger along the edge of his desk as he went to sit back down.
“Hm?”
“Send me Tobias.”