Chapter 8
The sea pressed in all around Nia, cool and soothing.
She spun, relishing the salt in her nostrils and the push and pull of the currents on her body.
She wanted to give in and let them take her where they would, far away from this place.
Far away from imprisonment and pain. But that was not possible.
So she dove deeper, searching for what Captain Stroud had ordered her to find.
A flash of light caught the corner of her eye, and she swam over. A small chest sat wedged between two spars of coral. She nudged it, but it was stuck fast and her lungs were beginning to burn, so she spun away and resurfaced.
The Silverfin bobbed in the water not far off. The weight of Silver Stroud’s gaze settled on her as soon as her head broke the water’s surface. His hand closed around the cord at his neck, and the urge to return to the ship pulled at her like a parent’s guiding hand.
Nia gasped as she woke, and for a moment in the dark, she could still feel Stroud watching her. Still feel that tug at the very essence of her. The scar low on her back burned with the memory of when he’d cut that piece from her.
She gripped the sides of the hammock as it swayed, breathing hard.
This was the Monsoon, not the Silverfin.
Stroud was long dead, and the woman who’d killed him was captain of this ship.
Somehow that thought comforted her. Like the Zanta of the past had reached out to protect her even before they met.
Nia tried to steady her breathing, reminding herself again and again that he was gone and she would never be his captive again.
Except that wasn’t true. She was still his captive even after death, because she couldn’t return to the sea without the precious thing he’d stolen from her.
She was so close to freedom, she could taste it like the lingering sourness of sleep on her tongue.
All she had to do was find her treasure, and take it.
Slowly, noises from other parts of the ship filtered into her small, windowless storeroom.
She must have slept for hours, dreaming of the past with no sun outside a porthole to wake her.
She stared up into the dark and listened to the sounds above her head, reminding herself this was not the little closet in Stroud’s quarters that she’d slept in from the age of ten.
There was no lock on this door, and she could leave at any time.
She still remembered the rush of bitter elation when she’d finally broken free of that ship.
He’d left the key on his nightstand when he went ashore, and though Nia couldn’t reach her treasure, that tiny silver key gave her the courage she needed.
When a crewman brought her meal, she bolted, running up into the wind.
The pounding of her heart drowned out the pirates’ shouts as she dove into the harbor.
Her treasure was close enough that it didn’t hurt right away, and she was a strong swimmer.
But soon the salty water had seeped into every pore like knives, and when she’d limped onto the shore, she almost wished the sea had taken her after all.
In a few years, she knew she would waste away just like her mother.
But in the meantime she was free, damnit. She was free.
Nia touched the silver key at her waist to remind herself once more, then tipped out of the hammock.
Zanta had ordered her to report to the first mate, but Nia saw no reason to delay her grand plans.
The more she’d thought of it as she drifted to sleep, the more she realized that perhaps she’d been too hasty with her plan of jumping straight to seducing Splinter Zanta.
Too excited by John and Logan’s gift, and mesmerized by the captain’s beauty.
She knew the chest was on the ship—she wouldn’t still be alive otherwise—but she couldn’t feel where it was.
She should search the ship first before trying to seduce her way into the captain’s quarters.
Nia sighed and stepped back into the skirt she’d worn since the day before, smoothing the wrinkles out of the fabric as best as she could.
She’d really been looking forward to potentially using those beautifully carved gifts on Zanta, but she would have to content herself with only enjoying them herself for the foreseeable future.
Nia had never been good at sneaking, but she tried her best to move silently through the narrow passages belowdecks.
The chest could be anywhere. It wasn’t large, though it was made of iron, and could be easily concealed in the bottom of a crate or behind a stack of barrels, and she’d be none the wiser.
Who knew what little nooks and crannies a pirate ship could hold.
She’d made it through several storerooms before someone came looking for her. She glanced up from rifling through a crate of fabric to find a man watching her from the doorway of the hold. Nia startled like a surprised rabbit, and hastily shut the lid of the crate with a thump.
“The captain sent me to find you,” the man said, his voice deceptively light and accented with something that sounded halfway between Yarenen and Sounese.
He was taller than her—but that wasn’t saying much—with medium-brown skin and an attractively aquiline nose, pierced with two gold rings in the same nostril.
He leaned his head of loose black curls against the doorjamb, warm eyes sweeping her in turn.
His expression was serious, which didn’t sit right on his naturally mirthful face.
Small indents around his mouth spoke of frequent smiles.
Nia hastily got to her feet and dusted off her skirts. “Oh? What does she need me for?” Nia tried to keep her tone relaxed as if he hadn’t caught her snooping.
He raised one thick eyebrow. “Just come with me.”
Well, it wasn’t like she could refuse. Nia followed the pirate up the stairs and down the hallway toward the back of the ship.
“What’s your name?” Nia asked, hurrying to keep up with his bouncy strides. With every step his seriousness seemed to melt away, as if he was unaccustomed to being used to intimidate people on this ship.
“Laurent. I’m the cook here.”
“She sent the cook to fetch an errant new crew member?”
His kohl-lined eyes flicked to her. “I wouldn’t say crew member just yet. Though I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
They passed an alcove framed by moth-eaten curtains that contained a small statue of two intertwined sea serpents, the shelf beneath it scattered with offerings of small trinkets, coins, and dried flowers.
No food. Never food that might rot and attract rats to the ship.
They arrived before a door. Laurent knocked, then ushered her inside.
Shelves loaded with the spoils of piracy lined the walls to the left and right of the one-room captain’s quarters like a library of thievery.
Weapons both ornamental and practical, leather-bound books from the Islands and scrolls from the southern continent, shiny trinkets, and brass navigational instruments.
Nia’s gaze swept over them quickly, cataloging and dismissing it all when she did not see the iron chest. At the far end, a wide wooden bed was built into the cabinetry under a bank of arched and latticed windows, supporting a luxuriously plush mattress strewn with blankets and richly embroidered cushions.
Envy sparked in Nia’s chest at the sheer comfort it exuded.
After spending the last five years of her life sleeping on a utilitarian bed in the attic of the Swan Inn, and far less comfort before that, Nia thought maybe she should try to seduce Zanta after all just to have a chance at sleeping in such luxury.
In the center of the room, Splinter Zanta sat on a low wooden chair piled with plush silk cushions, her bare feet resting on a rug patterned in geometric red and blue.
She sat with her back straight and her head high like a queen, hands folded in her lap.
She wore only a knee length shift, her long legs exposed.
Nia almost caught her breath at that, willing herself not to react to the beauty displayed before her.
There was no question in her mind why any man or woman would choose to follow this woman into battle.
Another Yarenen woman who Nia recognized from their flight from Roseforte Harbor stood behind the chair with Zanta’s hair in her hands.
The waterfall of dainty braids on Zanta’s head was now being unraveled into a beautiful storm cloud, and Nia got the distinct feeling she’d been invited into a private moment.
“There you are.” Zanta kept her head perfectly still as the other woman finished unraveling a braid and moved on to the next.
“Here I am.” Nia resisted the urge to drop into a curtsy, knowing the strange way she was feeling about seeing Zanta in a state of undress was silly beyond measure. She had a job to do, and couldn’t get distracted by feelings of actual attraction toward the woman who’d essentially kidnapped her.
“I caught her going through crates in one of the holds,” Laurent ratted on her.
Zanta’s eyebrows rose. “Thank you, Laurent. You may go back to your duties.”
“You know, when you said I had something you wanted, I thought you were being flirtatious,” Zanta said, once the door closed behind him. The other woman’s fingers paused in their unbraiding for a moment.
“I was,” Nia answered with no further explanation. The key to lying, she’d found, was to give no more information than you were directly asked for. And having a pretty face didn’t hurt either.
Zanta’s brows climbed higher. “So then what were you looking for?”
“Just getting acquainted with my new home.” Nia shrugged. The woman behind Zanta huffed a laugh, and Nia smiled at her.
“I’ll remind you that I can drop you off on shore at any time I please,” Zanta said.
Nia glanced furtively around the room again.
She’d made it to the captain’s quarters sooner than expected, without having to try her hand at seduction.
Now she was finding herself disappointed that not only was the chest definitely not among the other treasures sitting out in the open, but Zanta was now annoyed and distrustful of her, and it would take more effort to earn back her good favor.
“But you won’t, will you?”
Zanta’s full lips twitched to the side in amusement. “You’re quite confident, aren’t you?”
“It comes with the job.”
“Is lying and sneaking around within the purview of a tavern maid as well?”
“Could be.” Nia knew she was digging herself a deeper hole that she’d have to climb out of later. If she annoyed Zanta enough, she had no doubt she’d get dropped off at some backwater port with a few coppers and a wish of good luck. She couldn’t let that happen till she had her treasure in hand.
“Speaking of jobs,” Nia said, trying to steer the conversation away from her potential deception. “I’m sorry I didn’t report to the first mate. I took a nap, then I couldn’t find her.” She tried to look bashful, which did not come naturally to her.
“Well, she’s certainly not at the bottom of a crate.” Zanta turned to the other woman. “Sabri?”
The woman left off with Zanta’s hair and smiled. “We’ve agreed you will help in the galley and mess, and whatever else Laurent needs,” First Mate Sabriye said. “It’s almost dinner, so report to the galley right after you leave here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nia dropped into a quick curtsy and turned to go.
“And Nia.” Zanta’s voice curled through the air, smooth as honey. “Don’t let me catch you snooping again. Or I’ll keep my promise and drop you off in a fishing village instead of a port.”