Chapter Four Before #3
“I would not recommend that course of action.”
Kane’s voice ground out, so close to her ear Cat felt the vibrations of it. She flinched away as if burned, squaring to face him.
“What course of action?”
“Jumping overboard. Swimming to shore.” He matched her stance, forearms crossing over his broad chest and open shirt. “You’re still miles from Goldcoast, and you don’t look like you have much practice. Not to mention the sharks.”
“If given the choice between jumping myself or being thrown,” she murmured, “I choose to jump.”
He bared a line of teeth, and Cat realized that one of his incisors was not bone, but polished gold, sharpened to a glinting point, flashing as it caught the sun.
If sharks could smile, Cat thought, they would smile like Kane.
“No one’s throwing you off a ship,” he said, his gaze lingering. “I suppose you’re Lady Rose.”
Cat’s eyes went wide. Her name on his lips made something in her tremble, though she could not place it.
“How do you know my name?”
He shrugged, running his eyes over the deck. His men looked to be satisfied, having pawed through every bit of cargo the Credence held. They piled rum, a gilded mirror, stores of gunpowder, and most of the Rose valuables together, including Cat’s pink silk.
“I expected more of you, Lord Rose,” Morovant said, patting the impotent lord on the shoulder.
“How do you know our names?” Cat demanded again, fighting the urge to grab Kane’s arm. Certainly, his skin would feel like old iron, worn hard and callused by years on the sea.
“The Lyrian Sea is smaller thank you think,” Kane finally answered. “People talk, and some talk has value.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but even Cat could follow the threads he wove. Ryman sent correspondence to the governor ahead of our arrival. Either it was waylaid, or there are spies in the Meridian colonies.
“You’ve been waiting for us?” she said, her head spinning.
His shark smile gleamed. “Call it a warm welcome.”
“Then I’d hate to see a cold one,” Cat said, her voice taking on a hard edge.
She crossed her arms, bitterly content to watch the pirates plunder the rest of the ship. Strangely, their manservant stepped forwards, breaking away from the group at the rail. Cat raised an eyebrow, confused. Mr. Greer was good help, always eager to please—or so she thought.
When he approached Morovant, Cat felt herself move, only for Kane’s hand to close on her arm, holding her back.
Again, he held her above her elbow, palm perfectly curved to the small swell of muscle beneath her sleeve.
Cat went rigid under his touch, even as the little bolts returned, prickling until she feared her arm might go numb.
She was no stranger to the touch of a man, at least not the touch of Ryman Rose. Her skin would crawl under his hands, every inch of her screaming until he relented. But this was different.
Kane was different.
And why, she had no idea. All she knew was his touch was not so disagreeable, and when he removed his hand, she felt its absence, like the cold ashes of fire burned out.
“Not who I expected,” the pirate muttered under his breath, stepping back.
“For what?”
Cat was swiftly cut off by Morovant’s laughter, jovial and kind. The dangerous captain he had been a moment ago seemed to have disappeared, his eyes twinkling as he clapped Mr. Greer on the shoulder.
“Wanting to choose the black, my lad?” Morovant said, his smile wide and white.
A little gasp left Cat’s lips, but her servant never bothered to look back. He was already done with Lord and Lady Rose.
“I do,” he said, his voice filled with yearning.
On the ground, Ryman shot the servant a pitiful look, but even he knew to hold his tongue. Like Cat, he could only watch as Mr. Greer gladly joined a pirate crew, leaving them all without so much as a word of goodbye.
In her heart, Cat could not blame him. And Mr. Greer was not the only person to do so.
Her stomach twisted at the strange display, a half dozen men pledging fealty to the black flag—truly no flag at all.
She tore her gaze away to survey the pirate ship once more.
Two gun decks, endless cannons. Formidable as any vessel in the Meridian navy.
This is not what I expected, she thought, the world shifting and reforming before her very eyes.
Hand over hand, the wealth of the Credence passed from one ship to the other. Meedy watched the exchange with a hard eye, while Morovant still smiled, a hand resting plainly on the sword at his side.
“Your captain did the sensible thing. To run is to die. To pay is to live,” Kane offered bluntly. He cast a meaningful glance down the deck, not at the spoils of their raid, but at the crew and passengers.
Alive and unharmed, Cat thought with sudden realization. She looked through the crew, reading the shame on their faces. But there was relief too.
“Keep that in mind, Lady Rose,” Kane rumbled, meeting her gaze once more. Despite the bright sun overhead, his eyes darkened, black as the belly of a thunderhead.
“I will,” she replied evenly, some thunder of her own crackling.
Across the deck, Morovant gave one last bow, the dark green velvet of his coat rippling. Kane nodded, seeing the signal for what it was, and made to turn.
“My name is Catrine.”
He froze mid-step, looking back to her in naked confusion. It smoothed the sun-worn lines on his face, erasing years on the sea. With a jolt, Cat realized he was closer to her age, no more than twenty-five, still clinging to the last pieces of youth, buried as they were.
She felt just as shocked as he looked, her mouth still open. Her formal name, her true name, tasted wrong, unsuited to the new world unfolding around her.
“Cat, I mean,” she added hastily, almost curtsying out of reflex. As if that would make things any less strange.
A lady introducing herself to a pirate. Has the sun gone to your head entirely?
“Valerian.”
His whisper was low and rough as the hand snaking past her wrist into her pocket.
Before Cat could yell or scream, his fingers retreated, his grin returning as he held up his hand.
A single prayer bead, cracked down the middle, gleamed turquoise between his first and second finger, the precious stone spotted with drying flecks of blood.
Her own.
“May the sea always sing for you,” Valerian said, his voice near a growl. But he lingered, his gaze like a challenge.
Cat met it, holding on to the tempest eyes, another storm brewing in their depths. It seemed to pull, a spiral with ragged edges, but the center between them stood deathly still.
And then he was gone, away to his own ship without so much as another glance.
May the sea always sing for you.
Cat watched as the pirate ship caught the tide. She heard none of Sara’s weeping, or her husband’s furious rants that began only once the pirates were beyond earshot. All was quiet, the only sound the beating of Cat’s heart.
She watched the horizon until Morovant’s green coat faded and the black flag disappeared. Overhead, the white sails of the Credence billowed, filled with a fresh wind. Cat felt the same, the storm between them pushing her into a new horizon.
Valerian Kane.