8. CHAPTER 8 #2
Memories raced through her mind, visions of what terrors the future may hold, but she pushed them further and further away. Later, she'd unravel what this meant. Right now, she faced death, and she could not look away.
“Not all captains are created equal,” Miya said, making her voice small and sweet. How she assumed he liked his women. “Still, I didn't expect such a powerful man.” Miya glanced down at the seal on his right arm.
Oh, he liked that, didn't he? He liked being powerful.
Pathetic little bitch.
Despite the way her pandering lit his eyes, he snorted. “Do you think all it takes to ingratiate yourself with me is to lift your skirt?”
He’d done the lifting, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “I didn’t come here to seduce you, Captain Garrison. I came here to make friends. There isn’t a thing I’m unwilling to do to survive.”
“Enough.” He stood and threw the dress at her. “You’ve made your case.”
Miya didn’t hesitate to pull on the black garment, though she did her best to appear unhurried. She faced him, waiting within arm’s reach. Too close for comfort. She didn't like his temper.
The captain watched her. Finally, he spoke, his voice lowering to a hum. “You're such an effective little tool.”
She’d done all this work to make him see her as a resource, but it still tasted bitter on her tongue.
This was what she needed to survive, though. Or to fight the captain. Stop him from attacking their kingdom.
Stupid.
Thoughts like that ruined her life once already.
She wasn’t that na?ve girl anymore. Miya needed to look out for herself.
No one else would. She'd amassed power, gathering secrets on the most powerful men in Caspador.
Once this mark ruined her. Now she ruined all these men with it. And it felt good.
Sure, she helped the kingdom whenever possible.
That hopeful girl inside of her never died entirely.
If Miya could protect people from Captain Garrison, then she would.
However, she was not playing the martyr for a kingdom that showed her exactly what women like her meant to them. She'd suffered enough.
No, Miya took care of herself and those in danger of being marked, or who wanted to escape this life. Her days of trying to save an entire kingdom were behind her. For good.
“A man’s coming soon,” the captain said. “Lance. Get to know him. Show me what you can do.”
“Does Lance have a last name?”
“Supposedly Krowe.”
Miya raised a brow. “Supposedly?”
“Governor Krowe claims Lance is his nephew. He’s coming to help tie up loose ends before choosing a buyer for the estate. Of course, with the Phaedra forcing the incompetent fool to retire, I can only imagine that Governor Krowe feels threatened.”
“I'll get to know this Lance-supposedly-Krowe.” That couldn’t be the only thing the captain wanted from her.
“Yes, you will.”
The captain motioned for her to come closer. She defied every instinct in her body and forced herself to take a rigid step forward. Everything inside of her screamed danger. He seemed volatile. And though he never fought in the war, he was still a trained soldier, still grew up in the academy.
His finger curled toward himself again, and she took another step. His arm captured her around her waist. She brought her forearms up to shield herself, settling her hands against his chest to cover for her reaction.
His rough hands turned tender against her sides. “I take care of what’s mine.” His voice softened, and he ran his fingers down her neck. “A diamond necklace will look lovely on you.”
He thought it only took that? How insulting. Miya left behind far more than he'd ever give her.
The captain hummed. “Don’t you like diamonds?”
Miya simpered. “They’re too extravagant.”
“Nonsense.” His smile made her want to claw the skin from his face so that his outside matched his gruesome heart. “You deserve to wear something as beautiful as you are.” He breathed in her hair, lips grazing the side of her face. “You're a deliciously rare beauty. Where did your boss find you?”
Charmless fucking idiot. “The back room of a cheap inn that smelled like beer and piss.”
He belted a throaty laugh like she said something hilarious. Tilting her head back, Miya giggled in mockery of him, knowing he was foolish enough to love the sound she made.
“Do you come from marked women?” he asked. “Your mother must have been breathtaking. I'm sure everyone wanted her.”
The question tested her control of her temper. Sometimes the bosses wanted the most beautiful women to give birth to a few children, hoping for daughters to replace them when they aged too much for the taste of these disgusting men.
But wasn't it true in a way? “Yes.” For an instant, Miya felt the smooth white gold of her mother’s wedding ring while her little fingers twisted it back and forth on her finger.
She smelled the freshly cut melons the servants spooned into their bowls.
That world felt so far away that she often wondered if it was only a fairytale she'd read long ago.
“They chose my mother because she was the most beautiful woman in her town.”
Sad that Miya didn't lie.
“The beautiful daughter of a beautiful, marked woman.” He studied her face, making her skin crawl. By marked, he meant whore. A beautiful whore. “Now you have your chance to be something more.”
Something more.
Fury flamed through her, sharpening her into a blade of her own making, honed to pierce his over-inflated ego.
He wouldn’t be able to keep her out. He thought he could do so easily, but he didn't know her, and she was good at what she did.
Miya would survive, like always. Find his weakness. Exploit it. Relish destroying him.
Maybe help the people of Caspador.
“That’s why I came to you.” Slowly, in the way she’d learned to walk along the cliffs towering over cerulean waters as a child, Miya pressed her body against his. “I want you to make me more than Rafferty ever could.”
No matter how tender his touch, soulless eyes met hers, stripped of life and bottomless in cruelty. Miya looked forward to winning this game that he did not remotely understand.