9. In which the Valour reaches Argentina
IN WHICH THE VALOUR REACHES ARGENTINA
The Intrepid arrived an hour after Hester had brought the Valour alongside the quay, the deck conspicuously empty of its Pirate Lord captain.
She turned to Fliss, who leant against the wheel. “Better go see what’s so urgent.”
Fliss’s lips were drawn tight. “Be careful what you say to him, won’t you?”
Hester smirked and swaggered off the ship, down the gangplank with Fliss close behind. Her feet hit the Argentinian soil, and a steady trickle of power fed its way into her, replacing what she had burnt through on the voyage. She breathed a sigh at the familiar buzzing that settled in her ribcage.
The air was balmy, and the trees were in full bloom with purple blossom, the scent of honey on the air, for it was spring in the southern hemisphere.
People scurried about like ants, hollering to one another, the day’s catch for sale by the docks, fishy brine wafting to her nose.
The noise and the smells were a barrage after weeks at sea.
She had absolutely no idea why Septimus had chased them so far, or what the outcome of this parley would be. The night that he had threatened to sink the Valour played over and over in her mind. He had sworn on his crew, after all.
She rolled her shoulders back and stood on the quay before the Intrepid. The gangplank was lowered, and Septimus’s first mate, Emlyn, strode across.
“I invoke the Right of Parley,” Hester said, her chin held high, her hand resting on the pistol at her belt.
“Hester Orn,” Emlyn snarled, looking slightly more wiry than when she’d last seen him.
His eyes flicked to Fliss, and he raked a hand through auburn hair before returning his gaze to Hester.
“I’d watch your back. The crew are half-starved and blame you for our swift departure from Havenport.
Never mind what Septimus will do to you for disobeying orders. ”
Hester snorted. “How can the poor provisioning by His Lordship be my fault?”
“I wouldn’t open your parley with those words, if I were you,” Emlyn said, brown eyes flicking back to Fliss. “She stays here with me.”
“Absolutely not.” There was no way she was leaving Fliss with him, especially with the way he was looking at her, sizing her mate up as if readying for a fight.
Emlyn bristled, lips tight in his freckled face. “Fine. No weapons.”
“You expect me to come on board unarmed?” Absolutely not. He’d have to pry her pistol from her cold, dead fingers.
“Fine. Your mate will hold your gun while you speak with the lord.”
“Fine.” Hester handed her pistol to Fliss, then stalked across the gangplank. They followed Emlyn down the companionway and into the belly of the ship.
The Intrepid was the sister ship of the Valour, and was almost identical, which Hester found slightly disconcerting.
She was shown into the chart room, Emlyn holding the door open for her, while he and Fliss took up positions either side of the door, which snapped shut behind her.
Books lined the walls, and various instruments stood on the shelves. Wooden chairs were screwed to the floor, and unlike Hester’s chart room, there was no settee. It was plain, functional.
Septimus stood over the chart table in the centre of the room, hands braced on it, eyes on the chart of the Argentinian coast before him.
His breeches seemed too loose about his waist, his belt pulled tight, and the skin under his eyes was smudged grey.
What on Earth had he been thinking, coming all this way, starving himself and his men?
“I invoke the Right of Parl—” she began.
“Sit,” Septimus said, his voice a rumble that set the tiny hairs on the back of Hester’s neck on end.
“Not a chance in Hell.” Hester perched her hands on her hips. “The last time I sat in your presence you tied me to the chair.”
Septimus raised his sapphire eyes to hers, and the anger in them was poorly hidden. “I told you not to accept Charlotte Bailey’s offer of employment.”
“I recall the conversation very well,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
He slammed his fist on the table so suddenly that Hester jumped. “You’re going to get yourselves killed. Turn back.”
Hester scoffed. He thought they were going to get themselves killed? Surely he only thought that because she was a woman. “No. If I were a man you wouldn’t question my actions. I am not some wilting flower, Septimus, and you would do well to remember that.”
“FINE,” he bellowed, stalking out from behind the table and towards Hester, who did not flinch this time.
“Fine?” Well, that was easy. But then why had he come all this way?
Septimus closed the gap between them, standing over her. The scent of tobacco and salt had her taking a deeper inhale.
“Yes, fine,” he growled. “So, you plan to be the first to cross the Southern Continent?”
Hester looked up into his eyes, her magic awakening under her ribs. “Yes.”
“I will beat you,” he said, in a voice so low it thrummed through her.
The air around them crackled as her power slipped out between the cracks. Hester narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“You heard me. I will get there first,” he snarled, his eyes darting to the sparks that fizzed in the air. A muscle in his jaw ticked.
Hester broke eye contact, filling in the cracks in the walls of her chest, the sparks around them fading.
She could not let him get under her skin.
“Preposterous. We have planned this for months. Emlyn said you were barely provisioned to cross to Argentina. Did you eat anything at all on the voyage over here? You look dreadful.” He did.
Too thin, his rugged face more lined than before.
Septimus clenched his fists. “That is no concern of yours.”
“And what of you swearing on your crew to sink my ship?” Hester almost kicked herself for reminding him of this, but she was increasingly bemused by his declaration of competition.
“You played your tricks, Hester, perhaps I played my own.”
Hester shook her head, the corners of her lips turning up slowly.
“You cunning rogue,” she said, narrowing her eyes appraisingly. “So…let me get this straight. This was all because you want to be the first to make the crossing of Antarctica? And now I have forced your hand? Forced you to act quicker than you planned?”
Septimus glowered. “Yes.”
Interesting. A race could be entertaining.
“Listen, I can tell by the way she’s sitting in the water that you barely have any provisions on board.
Can you even get everything you need here in Argentina?
If you need any help, you know where to find me,” Hester said, winking.
There was a loud thud against the wall from outside, and her gaze flicked to the closed door.
“I do not need your help. Don’t be ridiculous. Provisions will be secured.”
“Alright, if you say so,” Hester said. Running footsteps echoed away down the corridor outside. “See you on the ice.”
“See you on the ice,” Septimus muttered, his eyes darkening, jaw clenched.
A shout that sounded an awful lot like Fliss came from somewhere deeper inside the ship, and Hester stilled.
“What was that?” She raced to the door and flung it open.
“Fliss?” Hester’s eyes widened. Her first mate was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Septimus’s.
“What have you done with my mate?” She rounded on Septimus, marching right up to him and jabbing him in the chest with her forefinger, all of her teeth bared.
She would murder them all if they harmed Fliss.
“Nothing,” Septimus said, frowning and pushing Hester out of the way to look into the corridor.
Hester sidestepped Septimus and followed the distant, muffled banging down into the hold.
Septimus followed close behind. She raced down the steps into darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. Bastards.
They had no right taking her mate. No right at all.
“If you’ve hurt her I’ll paint the fucking walls with your blood, I swear to God. ”
“No one was under any orders to take her. You have my word.”
“And what good, pray tell, is your word?” Honestly, she would bring the world down upon him if there was so much as a scratch on Fliss.
“Granted, it’s about as good as your word.”
Hester grumbled and hurried around corner after corner. A sickening thudding sound was coming from somewhere close by.
Good God. She had to find Fliss. Quickly.
She reached the end of a corridor. A door stood in front of her. She threw a fearsome look back at Septimus and wrenched the handle, flinging the door open.
She stumbled back into Septimus.
Emlyn’s naked ass was thrusting.
Fliss’s legs were wrapped around his waist.
Heat coiled in Hester’s core. “Felicity Wild,” she breathed, gawping. She cocked her head, a grin spreading over her face.
“Close—the—door!” Fliss gasped, her eyes wide, face flushed.
Hester did.
Reluctantly.
“I suppose someone ought to enjoy themselves after two months at sea,” she sighed, turning to Septimus in the narrow corridor and leaning in close. “Speaking of which, if you could point me in the direction of your bosun, I’d be very much obliged.”
Septimus’s face twisted in rage, and he pressed her into the wall. That old thrill ran through Hester as she smirked up at him. “Is that your pistol in your breeches, or something else?”
“Get. Out.”