Chapter Nine After #3
“You do not know what this place was, what the Lyrian Sea became in the years since the Empire left. It might be fading now with your triumphant return, but it is not gone,” she warned.
She straightened, trying to look regal and resolute.
“I ran a business here for many years and kept it afloat through perilous days. I have friends in every port from Little Talon to Longdawn. I know what to ask, how to talk, and when to listen.”
She braced herself for more of Carley’s laughter or Fell’s sneer, but neither man moved. Fell only stared, his expression unreadable again, his scrutiny too sharp for Cat’s liking.
“Better still, I do not wear a uniform of the Empire,” she continued steadily. “I am just the Widow Rose, a barmaid. Another civilian fleeing the changing tide, looking for safe harbor.”
It was an obvious, if risky, plan—but well worth the gamble.
To take whatever gold she might wring out of Osprin, to set out with a smile and promise she would never keep. To be gone before he even realized she never intended to come back, and leave Valerian whatever small chance he still had.
“And what do you ask in return, Lady Rose?” Osprin wondered.
She set her jaw. “What I was promised. A chest of gold and a strong wind. I want to be rid of this place,” she spat, her disdain all too obvious.
The governor sneered. “But the Empire has returned, the colonies reclaimed for the Meridian. Your perilous years are over, Lady Rose. There is no reason for you to leave your home ever again.”
There are a thousand reasons, she wanted to scream, remembering every hurricane, every sweltering heat wave, every sickness, all strung across the canyon between empire and anarchy. But most of all she remembered a pair of eyes, the color of a tempest.
“This is not my home,” she bit out.
Not anymore.
Next to her, Fell’s fingers curled, one hand balled into a fist, his knuckles turning white. Out of frustration or anger, Cat could not say.
Osprin shifted his attention, one hand on his chin.
“You know the Lyrian Sea better than most of my officers, Captain Fell. Your patrols and your intelligence were integral to the reclamation. And you served here long before Archenport fell and the pirates took hold. You’ve seen this place for what it was, and what it must become,” he said, scratching at a sheen of rough, gray stubble.
“What say you to this plan? Does Lady Rose speak truthfully?”
Cat’s chest tightened. Not because of the ghostly noose still looming but Jasper Fell’s forever-shifting machinations.
She read the delight plainly on Fell’s face. He gave a roll of his shoulders, taking his time to answer, drawing out her discomfort.
“Lady Rose is a woman of many friends, yes,” Fell said, shooting her a smug look sidelong. He drew out the words, letting his true meaning linger. “And . . .”
Cat’s skin crawled and she braced for a killing blow, for whatever secrets Fell might lay bare.
“She does not lie.”
Confusion washed over Cat. She could only blink as Fell continued his performance.
He faced the governor with a shallow bow, sweeping back his hat. To anyone else, he looked the picture of a loyal officer, dedicated to Crown and Empire. Cat knew better than to believe it.
But what else could he be after?
“If you will not send a fleet to hunt Valerian Kane, you should send Lady Rose,” Fell concluded. For once, his expression was stoic and determined, his brow set in a stern, dark line.
Whatever he wanted, Cat hardly cared. I will send him my thanks when I escape, from wherever I end up.
But he was not finished.
“And you should send me, of course,” he added, smiling to show two rows of even, white teeth.
Living in the Lyrian, Cat saw sharks all the time. She watched one now, his jaws wide, his eyes black. He smelled blood in the water, and he circled closer.
Hidden in her skirts, Cat’s hand rounded into a fist.
“I can hardly blend into the streets of Alvaris or Nera with a Meridian captain and his man-o’-war on my heels,” she snapped. “Your Lordship, I am of little value if I fail but—”
The shark circled—and struck.
“Ah, so kind of you to try to protect a ship of His Majesty’s navy,” Fell said, facing her as if they stood in the center of a ballroom and not a hurricane.
“But I’m afraid you must be realistic in these matters, Lady Rose.
You are a woman alone.” Fell clicked his tongue in a way that made Cat want to set the mansion on fire.
“You can hardly be expected to navigate the waters of the Lyrian Sea unaccompanied.
Women do it all the time, you fucking rat, she thought, biting down on her tongue.
Fell took her silence for acquiescence.
“It would be ungentlemanly of us to send you alone. The King would hang his head in shame to even hear of it,” Fell went on blithely.
“Besides, I would not want you to be frightened off your goal. Who knows what awaits you out there? Old friends. Old enemies?” His eyes sharpened, and Cat knew she was seen through.
“A woman’s heart is easily unnerved. I shall help you walk this path and protect you from any danger you might face. ”
There was nothing she could say aloud. But Cat pleaded silently, hoping Fell could read her eyes as well as she could read his.
Just let me go, Fell. Let me walk away like you promised.
“I would hate to see you lost in this, Catrine,” he murmured, his voice taking on a lower tenor, his gaze like cold steel.
“You served me with a warrant of execution not twelve hours ago,” Cat shot back, nearly growling. She did not miss the ripple of amusement in his gaze. “Captain Fell—”
“Is correct.”
Governor Osprin’s voice was the fall of a hammer or a judge’s gavel.
“We cannot expect a lady such as yourself to take on this endeavor alone.”
Cat opened her mouth to argue. “But—”
“Nor can we send Captain Fell and the Scorpion into the unknown,” Osprin added, acknowledging her. “There is no disguising a Meridian warship.”
Huffing, Fell squared his shoulders. “My lord—”
The governor cut him off with a blistering look. “You will command a merchant vessel. Take your best men and whatever Lady Rose requires.”
I require a pistol and four bullets, Cat thought, biting her lip to stifle a frustrated scream.
Despite the loss of his ship, Fell looked triumphant. He bent into another sharp bow, lower than before. Cat glimpsed a swath of freckles on his bare neck, exposed for a second. For all his peacocking, Fell was a sailor too.
A formidable ally—and an even worse opponent.
“Yes, my lord,” he said, stepping backwards.
Cat pursed her lips, feeling the eyes of the officers and Osprin on her. She did as expected and swept into a low curtsy.
“Very well,” she murmured, her eyes on the floor.
The game board in her head lay upended, the pieces scattered, her victory beyond reach. Again, she wished herself at the card table, with a trump card up her sleeve, instead of hopelessly cornered, with only one path left.
Fell’s hand wound beneath her arm. He played the part of a charming escort well, and no wonder. It had been the truth once, in this very mansion long ago.
How did my partner become my jailer, she wondered bitterly.
It was not the noose she felt now, but chains.
She barely heard the governor as he spoke, his words suddenly far away, filtering as if through deep water.
“You sail at dawn.”