Chapter 15
The sun was setting, long and slow, casting pink and orange light across the deck that fetched up against Nia’s bare feet as she drummed them on the boards.
“Ha! Read ’em and weep!” She slapped her cards, a nine, ten, and fool of rubies, down on the top of the crate they were using as a table, then reached across to collect her winnings.
“Not so fast, missy.” Laurent smacked her hand away from the little pile of coins and trinkets, and spread his own cards out like a fan, displaying them for all to see. A queen of hearts. A fool of hearts. And a king of hearts.
Shit. It didn’t matter how good Nia’s hand was, nothing could trump that. She groaned and rolled her eyes skyward as Laurent cackled and collected his prize.
“You celebrated too soon, chaton, nothing can beat a fool between a king and a queen,” Laurent boasted.
The other three pirates at the table, two men and a woman, chuckled at Nia’s pout.
But it was all good-natured fun. The money she was gambling with wasn’t even hers.
Laurent had given it to her so she wouldn’t be left out of the game.
It was only right he should win it back with the sheer force of his luck.
She’d become even closer with Laurent in her short time under his tutelage in the galley.
He could be scatterbrained at times. Sometimes forgetting what he was about to say, or walking into the larder only to come out with a completely different ingredient than he’d gone in for.
But he was a dab hand at cooking. Better even than Madame Durand, who was known throughout their neighborhood in Roseforte for her hearty, warming food.
Laurent could’ve been a star if he worked on land instead of on a pirate ship.
A darling of whatever culinary scene he set his sights on.
Even if he did get caught up exchanging raunchy stories with Nia and sometimes burned the flatbread.
One of the men collected the cards and began to shuffle them. Nia pouted. She was completely out of money after only a few hands, most of which Laurent had gleefully won. She would’ve suspected him of cheating if his sleeves weren’t rolled up to his elbows.
Noticing Nia’s fake sulking, Laurent leaned forward and tweaked her nose.
“Don’t be so heartbroken! You can still play. Right, friends?” He looked around at the others who nodded gamely. Laurent plucked a few coppers from the hefty pile in front of him and gave them to her.
Nia perked up. “Oh you’re so good to me,” she crooned, overly flirtatious. “We should run away and get married. You would make the best wife.”
The corners of Laurent’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Alas, my fair lass, I’m saving my wifeliness for the right man. You don’t have the equipment for the job.”
Technically, she did. She had four of them sitting tidily in a bed of velvet in a box in her room. But she didn’t tell Laurent that; it would only raise questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.
“If I did, I’d marry you in a second, Laurent,” Nia said, as the new hand of cards was doled out.
“Same,” the other woman—a carpenter, by the sawdust dusting her hair—agreed. “Your fried sardines are to die for.” She elbowed the card dealer. “You’ve got the right equipment, Colm. Quite impressive, from what I’ve seen. Think you could make an honest man of him?”
Colm, a big blond Laslandishman, blushed beneath his sunburn.
The next card he dealt flipped face up, revealing the fool of hearts again.
The whole group burst into uproarious laughter as he sputtered something Nia didn’t catch.
Laurent retrieved the card and handed it back to him with a wicked grin, the sunset casting blushing light on his face as well.
They settled into a merry mood as the game restarted. Nia had terrible cards and only bet a copper before bowing out to watch. She didn’t miss the shy glances Colm now cast Laurent’s way, nor that Laurent seemed to be returning them with his typical flirtatiousness.
Perhaps she’d have some juicy gossip to wheedle out of him come morning.
The sunset lingered, as if it wanted to bathe their little pocket of ribald joy in its light for a few moments longer. Nia hitched her skirts up to her knees and leaned back on her hands on the deck as the rest of the hand played out, enjoying the cool evening breeze.
No one jumped to attention when Splinter Zanta appeared on deck.
The crew of the Monsoon was small and tight knit.
They followed their captain’s orders with practiced efficiency when they needed to, and most of them seemed utterly devoted to her, but they also knew when to relax.
Nia’s gaze tracked Zanta as she mounted the quarterdeck steps and had a quiet word with the helmsman.
They were being followed, everyone on board knew it, and for the first few days there had been a current of tension running beneath everything they’d done.
The ships hadn’t approached enough to get a good look at them or explain their intentions.
Neither flew a flag, so they likely weren’t military.
But both were bigger than the Monsoon, and that meant trouble no matter which way you sliced it.
Any number of people had reason to follow a pirate ship.
Maybe they’d followed all the way from Roseforte, and were waiting for the perfect time to strike.
But now there was an air of hope about the crew, the tension dissipating like foam on the waves. Their pursuers had fallen back overnight, barely visible even with a spyglass, and it felt like Nia could breathe again.
Still, Zanta looked worried. Her thick brows knit tightly together as she surveyed the deck.
When her gaze landed on Nia, warmth spread through Nia’s body, and she pushed her chest out just a little more, showing off her assets to better effect, despite the drab dress covering them.
Zanta had been avoiding her since the kiss in the clothing storeroom.
Nia couldn’t say she blamed her. Nia had come on a bit strong.
She needed to ease into it more. Get some more flirting under her belt before making another move.
It would be difficult. Nia wasn’t used to rejection.
Nor was she practiced in the art of subtlety.
She was used to tumbling into bed with whomever happened to catch her fancy.
No matter. She enjoyed a challenge, and this really was her only option. Taking advantage of Zanta’s cold shoulder, she’d used the time to search the rest of the ship, and found nothing relating to her treasure, not even in the several hidden compartments that were obscured by clever carpentry.
She would get into the captain’s quarters. No matter what. And there was no time like the present to get started.
“Captain!” Nia affected a bright chirpy tone and waved Zanta over. “Come play with us! We need someone with enough skill to beat Laurent.”
All the heads around the card game turned in Zanta’s direction. Laurent snorted. “I don’t think she’s the one you want if you’re looking to end my reign of tyranny,” he said blandly, pushing a few more coins into the pile at the center.
“It’s true. Our captain is shit at cards,” confirmed the third man, a deckhand, eyeing his own cards skeptically.
“Nonsense!” Nia sprang up, and before any of them, least of all Zanta, could stop her, she bounded up the steps and threaded her arm through Zanta’s. “Come, Captain, we can be a team.”
Stunned, Zanta allowed herself to be tugged over to the group.
Laurent scooted over to make room for them on the deck, and soon Zanta was sitting cross-legged between them, the puff of Nia’s skirt touching her knee.
Nia made a show of eyeing her own meager pile of coins.
Then divided them up between her and Zanta, two coppers each.
Zanta raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I see now, you wanted to be a team because you’re broker than a sailor in a brothel.”
Laurent and the others laughed.
“Sailor in a brothel at least has something to show for it,” Nia said sulkily.
That earned a twitch of a smile from Zanta.
Nia allowed herself to gaze at her lips a moment before looking away.
The hand of cards finished up. This time with Colm taking the pot, though Nia suspected Laurent had gone easy on him. The carpenter shuffled this time.
“So are you two gonna be a team or not?” Laurent asked.
“Yes,” Nia said, at the same time Zanta said, “No.”
“What?” Nia was scandalized. “But I invited you into the game!”
“You’re just using me for my potential money,” Zanta laughed, easing into the banter.
“Well, are you gonna shell out or not?”
“Not,” Zanta said firmly, her brown eyes glittering.
“I want my two coppers back,” Nia sniffed. Zanta handed them over, then dug in her belt purse for coin of her own. The cards were dealt, and once again, Nia had a shit hand. She frowned.
“You don’t have a very good card-playing face,” Colm pointed out.
“I have a good face, overall,” Nia protested. “I don’t need to be good at cards.”
“Weren’t you a tavern maid?” Laurent chimed in. Nia stuck her tongue out at him and pushed two coppers into the pot.
“I was more of a ‘kiss dice for good luck’ type of tavern maid,” she said primly. “One has no need for gambling when one is gainfully and legally employed.” The others rolled their eyes.
Jovial banter accompanied the slide of cards and clink of coin, and in two more hands, Nia was flat broke again.
“Ah, I have no luck!” she lamented, rocking to the side and purposely letting her knee knock into Zanta’s. The sun had dipped below the horizon by now, bathing the ship in dusky twilight and orange lamp glow.
“Guess you can’t play anymore,” Laurent said breezily, shuffling the cards in a bridge between his fingers. “No worries. The captain will take your place.”
Nia pouted. Not playing would certainly give her more leeway to flirt with Zanta, but a better idea presented itself.
“I still want to, so why don’t we make the game more interesting?”
Laurent’s ears practically pricked up like a cat’s at her mischievous tone. “Oh? Do tell, chaton.”
“Alas, I have no money.” Nia swooned toward Zanta, almost, but not quite, resting her head on her shoulder. Nia covered her eyes with the back of her hand, dramatic as a stage actor. When she uncovered them, she met Zanta’s gaze directly. “But I do have clothes.”
Zanta’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. Laurent laughed again, loud and bawdy.
“Brilliant! Every round we can bet a piece of clothing, and whoever has the lowest hand, strips.”
“Exactly!” Nia sat up, her fake swoon forgotten. She looked around the circle. Colm was blushing again, but the carpenter and deckhand seemed game. Zanta had an amused quirk to her kissable lips. “What say you, Captain?”
She didn’t miss the way Zanta’s gaze subtly traced her curves beneath the drab dress. “Aye, I’m game.”
Nia clapped with glee.
“No fair, Nia’s got on more layers than any of us,” Colm protested, though he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes had drifted back to Laurent.
“What I lack in coin I make up for in petticoats.” Nia winked.
“I’d be happy to take off a few layers to make it even, big boy.
” Colm’s eyes snapped back to her, his blush deepening.
Nia wondered if he was even sunburned at all, or if the pinkness on his nose and cheeks was a permanent aftereffect of all this blushing.
“No need for anyone to preemptively strip,” the deckhand said, dealing out the cards. “Judging by the last few rounds, we’ll all get an eyeful of Nia soon enough.”
“Cur!” Nia exclaimed, leaning forward to whack him playfully on the arm, making sure Zanta got a full view of her backside in the process.
When she settled back in and picked up her cards, she made sure to let a brief flicker of disappointment cross her face, even though they weren’t so bad.
“See?” The deckhand smirked.
“What’s everyone betting this round?” Nia asked.
They went around the table, each declaring an item of clothing to bet. A hat, a belt, a neckerchief. Zanta bet her waist sash, and it finally got to Nia.
“My bodice,” she declared. She might be wearing more layers than the rest of them, but the downside to a dress was that there was no need for a belt or anything of that nature. Hell, she wasn’t even wearing shoes.
Laurent narrowed his eyes at her. “Now I can’t tell if you have a good hand or a bad one.”
Nia smirked. “I guess you’ll have to see.”
She did, of course, lose. Colm, in a stroke of modest luck, won. Nia undid the fastenings of her blouse, her breasts bouncing free of the musty fabric. She felt Zanta’s eyes—as well as those of Colm and the deckhand—on her, and smirked.
In several more hands, Laurent was fully clothed but for one boot, Colm was shirtless, the other two were missing various belts and hats, Zanta had only lost her sash and one boot, and Nia—having decided she quite liked losing this game—was down to her chemise, underthings, and stays.
“You’ll be naked before long,” Zanta teased, nudging her arm.
“I’ll get my revenge yet. The lot of you won’t know what hit you when your dicks are swinging in the wind!” Nia declared. Another hand was dealt, and this time it was quite good.
Just then, a noise came from the crow’s nest, and the lookout swung down from the ratlines. “Captain, we’ve got a problem.” His expression was grim.
Zanta was already pulling on her boot. “Talk.”
“There’s a blockade ahead.”
Fuck. They all scrambled to dress as the lookout explained. “I thought we might be headed for land at first, but it’s bow lights. There’s at least a dozen that I can see.”
Zanta retrieved a spyglass from the helmsman, who’d previously been watching their game with amusement, and trained it in the direction the lookout indicated. She swore under her breath in Yarenen. Nia and the others crowded around. But they couldn’t see much in the dark.
“Could you tell what nation they are?” Zanta asked.
The lookout grimaced. “My best guess? The Talvans are defending their waters after the attack at Roseforte.”
“Seems likely.” Zanta kept her eye trained on the dark horizon which bled into the sky. A faint breeze kicked up, ruffling her loose shirt. “And if that’s the case, we aren’t getting back to Yarene anytime soon.”
“What should we do, Captain?” the helmsman asked.
Zanta swung the spyglass in the other direction. “We can try to run it, but seeing as our friends are still hanging back, I say we turn around and head north. No use getting caught between a rock and a hard place when we have all that open sea to our backs.”
“Aye, Captain.”
And just like that, the jovial mood shifted, each one of them reminded that they were outlaws, and they were being hunted.