Chapter Nine After
CAT JUMPED IN her seat as two sharp knocks sounded at the door, then exhaled slowly, grateful for the interruption. Even if it was only a servant with the governor’s tea or a footman with the daily correspondence, she welcomed the opportunity to gather her wits.
The governor sat back. “Yes, come in.”
Polished doors swung silently on greased hinges and two officers entered, with Fell bringing up the rear.
He glanced at Cat, his gray gaze a rare and begrudging comfort in the lion’s den that was the governor’s mansion. But she kept her chin high, as if she were just another guest in the great house, not a prisoner.
Even in a rumpled dress with tangled hair, Catrine Rose could still cling to her pride.
“Lady Rose, this is Captain Carley and Lieutenant Groust, of the Revel,” Osprin said with a dismissive wave.
Both men fell in beside the governor’s desk and gave her short, shallow nods, their hats tucked under their arms. Their blue uniforms were identical but for the captain’s gold buttons. She knew their faces, though they were not patrons of the tavern.
The governor’s lip twisted. “And you are already well acquainted with Captain Fell of the Scorpion.”
Fell did not bother to incline his head or hide his smirk. Whatever respite Cat gained from his presence disappeared in an instant. He was not here to help her sway the governor but to lord over her interrogation.
“I’m familiar,” she ground out.
“Good,” Osprin shot back, the reprimand clear. His eyes passed over her, expectant. “You were going to share what you know of the pirate Valerian Kane?”
The name sounded like a curse on Osprin’s lips, and Cat tightened, willing herself to keep focused and steady. It was not just the governor watching her now, but also Fell and the two other officers.
“Of course, my lord,” she said smoothly. “I only wish to be helpful.”
Fell tried and failed to smother a laugh. Cat wanted to slap him. She resigned to biting the inside of her cheek instead.
Again, she wished for a clean dress and a comb, water to douse the smell of prison still clinging to her.
Even if it would only delay the inevitable.
Though she sat in an ornate chair in a beautiful room, it felt like the gallows, the cushion beneath her threatening to give way and drop her to her death.
“Kane is a true son of the Lyrian Sea,” she forced out.
Kane. She chose her words as carefully as she could to bury any hint of attachment. Not Valerian. Not Val. Not even Captain.
“He knows these waters better than any sailor, the reefs, the storm breaks, the tides and currents.” The words scattered like errant gunfire.
The faster they came, the less she had to think of them.
The less they hurt. “He was born in Meridia among the docks and the gutters. But he is no son of the Empire.”
Osprin’s black eyes narrowed. “Where do his loyalties lie?”
“With his crew. With his own flag,” she answered quickly. It was an easy question. “With Captain Morovant, before he was executed.”
Osprin pursed his lips. “Can he be bought?”
“Bought?” Cat balked, shaking her head in disbelief.
You bastards won’t even pay me what I am owed, she wanted to snap.
Fell seemed just as disturbed. “My lord, that is not a precedent we should set with these animals. What kind of message does that send to pirates still clinging to their old ways? Hold out long enough and the King’s treasury will open for you?”
Behind this desk, Osprin gave a dismissive shrug. “It sends the message that the pirate republic is gone, its king dead. To see their prince bought and paid for would shatter them, Captain Fell, and end this all for good,” he said neatly. “Lady Rose?”
Cat felt her heart in her throat.
If only.
“No, Kane cannot be bought,” she muttered, her eyes lowering. “Not with Morovant dead. He will want vengeance more than anything else,” she added, warmth creeping over her cheeks. She dared not raise her face, lest the governor and his officers see her shame.
But she felt Jasper Fell’s glare like a brand.
“Fine. Then what of Kane’s ship?” The governor pushed on. “The Covenant?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know it well.”
Fell’s silver-gray eyes threatened to burn a hole through her. His lips parted, an accusation dancing on his tongue.
Cat cut him off, lest Fell speak for her, and remove whatever credibility she had left.
“But I remember it in the Archenport harbor,” she offered, hoping it was enough. “Perhaps a fourth-rate ship of the line, sleek. Smaller than Morovant’s vessel, the Seadragon.”
“You seem overly familiar with Captain Morovant’s vessel,” Carley sneered.
Cat held her ground. “Captain Morovant raided my ship on the crossing from Meridia ten years ago. What little my lord husband and I carried with us was plundered before our very eyes. It is a memory I will not soon forget.”
That seemed to shut Carley up, his white cheeks splotched red.
The governor was undeterred. “Who might Kane be sailing with?”
Too many names ran through her head, each one worse than the one before. The faces leered out of her memories.
Who will I send to the noose next?
“I do not know who lies at the bottom of the sea, or which ships escaped your fleet, my lord,” Cat said slowly. “But I know who hung, and who will never sail under the black flag, or any other, again.”
Behind his desk, Osprin’s face fell, his annoyance palpable. He raised one hand as if to dismiss her.
That, Cat could not allow. She could see it on the governor’s face, and Fell’s too. If she left this room now, she would return to a jail cell.
My head or theirs.
“Captain Rawls was still in the Furies, last I heard.” Her voice strengthened, cutting across the study.
“Before Your Lordship arrived with the fleet. Jade Belloq would not have been with Morovant either, when the hammer fell. Nor was Captain Garedo. Perhaps Eddie Wells escaped too. He was far from Beacon Island when the Meridian fleet arrived—he could not have returned in time to fight. But again, I cannot be certain.”
“Rawls, Belloq, Garedo, Wells.”
Osprin repeated each name sharply. In the corner, Groust jotted them into a small notebook, his pen scratching the page. Carley only rolled his eyes.
“Jade? A woman captain?” he snickered. “You expect us to believe some bitch with a rowboat is plundering the Lyrian Sea?”
Heat spread across Cat’s face, her vision edging red. “That bitch captains the Cygnet, the fastest brigantine in these waters.”
“What of the other ships?” Osprin said evenly, silencing Carley before he could say something more foul.
My head or theirs, Cat thought again, willing herself to answer. But somehow the words caught in her throat, refusing to rise. A ship was far easier to identify than a captain, their names boldly painted and proudly displayed.
Her eyes widened when another voice answered.
“The Red Truth. The Baleria. The Rag Prince,” Lieutenant Fell said, ticking off the names.
Despite the circumstances, it felt like a small reprieve.
But Osprin’s eyes never left Cat’s face. “Any other names?”
Ana, she thought, her throat going tight. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. But she held Osprin’s stare.
“I cannot be certain,” she said again.
The governor was silent for a long moment, until the only sound in the room was the clock ticking. And Cat’s thundering heart, pounding so loud she feared Osprin and his officers might hear.
“Where might Kane make his berth?” The governor looked down at his maps, breaking his hold. “No ship can sail forever,” he added with a cluck of his tongue. “Kane must have a safe harbor now that Archenport has been reclaimed.”
Cat nodded, grateful for the change in subject.
“There are dozens, if not hundreds, of uninhabited islands in these waters,” she said.
Too many came to mind—Perdina, the Cold Keys, Drowning Key, Hookhead, Jasboa, True East. They were just a few of countless other pirate hideaways scattered through the Lyrian Sea, known or unknown to Cat Rose.
“And there is Arcayo. They have no alliances with the Empire or any other kingdom. For a time, Kane made a home in Nera, on Arcayo.”
Her breath hitched, the swell of memory rising up again, threatening to drown her.
Luckily the governor did not seem to notice and pulled a sour face.
Cat ventured he had never seen Crownless Arcayo or the city of Nera.
To the island’s benefit, no doubt. Most good Meridians had never sailed within a mile of Arcayo’s capital, ignorant of its stone streets, gurgling fountains, and jade-tiled buildings.
The fuchsia flowers bursting, misty rainbows cooling the air.
The smell of citrus and cacao, sweet cigar smoke, countless spices.
Song priests calling out from their towers while the markets overflowed, a thousand blue pennants streaming over a waterfall city.
It felt as far from Archenport as a place could be, and Cat hoped it stayed that way.
“They are a sovereign nation, and beyond the claim of the Empire. For now,” Osprin said. “But their time will come, certainly.”
Both Carley and Groust grinned at the prospect, looking like a pair of leering jackals. Cat could not help but glance at the jeweled map in the corner.
So much of the world already devoured, and not an inch of hunger slaked.
“I must say,” the governor added, his tone sharpening. “You have not given much, Lady Rose.”
Cat could only sputter. “I—certainly you have more to ask?”
“Sir, we don’t have time for the whimpering of this woman.
” Carley took a step forwards, planting himself between Cat and the governor, effectively cutting her off from any lifeline she might grasp.
“Time is of the essence. Commodore Percy has arrived from High Harbour with his ships, and is anchored in the port, awaiting orders.”