Chapter Twelve Before #2
It was smaller, less ornate. Not at all like Morovant’s great vessel.
Slowly, she turned back to Valerian and his damned smirk.
This time, Cat studied him as he studied her, looking for any change. There were no uniforms amongst pirates, no medals to mark rank. Valerian looked as she remembered, for the most part. It was only a few moments six months ago, but she had turned the memory over in her mind many times since then.
He wore the same gold chain around his wrist, had the same scars on his hands.
The same tattoos, one mangled, the other proudly displayed at the open collar of his shirt.
Her cheeks burned as she eyed the triple lines woven together in a haunting circle.
Her finger swirled, inadvertently tracing the same shape as his tattoo.
Valerian even wore the same weapons, his knives at one hip.
The only difference she could see was another chain dangling from his neck, most of it tucked beneath his clothes.
But there was a weight to his shoulders, a heaviness she had not noticed before. Like the ship itself hung from his neck.
I suppose it does, she mused, noting the crew. The way they ringed around him, every man and woman angled, as if Valerian was the sun, and the rest of them orbiting planets.
“You are the captain,” Cat murmured weakly.
His smirk spread, burning into a true grin. It fell upon her like a shot from a cannon, shuddering Cat to her core.
“So they tell me,” Valerian answered. “Welcome aboard the Covenant, Lady Rose.”
Cat hugged herself as best she could with bound hands, fearing she might break apart.
In spite of the warm sun overhead, a shiver went down her spine.
She was a lady aboard a pirate ship, with nothing to trade for her survival.
Her eyes roved back to the ruin of the Venerable and any value she carried.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed down a thousand thoughts, each one more terrible than the last.
The captain’s attention shifted from her and he stalked the deck, a predator once more.
With swift motions, Valerian seized Fell by the collar, dragging the navy officer to his feet.
Another would have fallen, but the lieutenant found his footing, bound though he was.
He snarled through clenched teeth and Cat saw hatred in his silver eyes.
Valerian only laughed. He was the taller of the pair, and his grip forced Fell to dance on tiptoes. Uncomfortable at best. Humiliating at worst.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to try to pass him off as a servant too?” Valerian drawled.
Cat wanted to lie, but her tongue felt like lead.
“You’ll hang for this, Pirate. That’s a ship of the line you sunk, a man-o’-war of the fleet. There are dozens of men dead in that water,” Fell’s breath hissed out between clenched teeth. “I am an officer of the imperial navy—”
“An officer of the imperial navy?” Valerian echoed with a performative gasp, to the roaring laughter of his crew.
“And you are a murderer,” Fell spat, raising his voice to be heard over the din. It was as good as a cannonball shot across the bow of the ship.
All laughter ceased, and some light faded from Valerian’s eyes. For a moment, Cat thought the sun had passed into cloud—but it still shone brightly overhead.
The pirate’s fist clenched, the grip on Fell’s collar going even tighter, until the corded muscles of Valerian’s arm strained against the gold chain around his wrist. He was lean, but made of iron, muscles flexing beneath tanned skin.
Something cold rippled under the captain’s expression, like a storm front rolling over the horizon.
Cat wanted to intervene but stayed frozen to the spot, her heart in her teeth.
Make it quick, she prayed, begging for an easy, painless death for Jasper Fell. It was the only option left, and Fell knew it too. To incense the pirate captain, to tempt his rage, so that he might simply shoot the officer where he stood and be done with the matter.
Fell’s bare toes scraped the deck, still fighting for purchase. But he did not flinch, and Cat felt a wretched burst of pride. Second Lieutenant Jasper Fell would face his ending with all the honor and duty the Crown could ask for.
Then Valerian angled his head, lowering his gaze so they were face to face. Silver met storm, a flash of lightning through black clouds.
“Mind the blood on your own hands, Officer,” the captain growled, opening his grasp with a snap. Fell collapsed to the ground at Valerian’s feet. “Your empire is steeped in it.”
For a second, the pirate wore a look of pure rage. He stared at the officer on the ground and Cat feared it would be the end of Jasper Fell. A violent, bloody end.
Her heart thundered in her chest, her wrists aching under the rope. She felt her lips part, her breath coming in small, shuddering gasps. Her eyes darted to Fell, now crumpled on the ground, before reluctantly meeting Valerian’s gaze.
He was already staring, the full force of his anger directed, not at the Meridian officer, but at her.
For the longest second of her life, Cat saw death.
Then Valerian’s face wiped clean, his amused expression returning as he rolled his shoulders, turning away from Fell.
“Ana?” he muttered.
The woman jumped to attention. “Captain.”
Valerian eyed the horizon, then the flag at the stern of the ship, and the way it fluttered in the soft wind. “Set a course for—”
“Help me!”
A voice shrieked up from the water, borne out of the bobbing wreck. It carried over the ship, echoing like the cry of a wet cat. Amongst the crew, a few pirates winced, and one even covered his ears.
Cat wished she could do the same. Her teeth clenched tight, smothering a sudden, enraged scream.
Dear gods no.
Her eyes flew to Valerian, who met her with a curious tip of his head. Once more, Cat tried to beg with her gaze alone, trying to make him see what she already knew. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, hot and sharp, threatening to fall in a shameful river.
“Don’t,” she heard herself whisper.
The voice called for aid again, his caterwaul a burning knife.
Leave him to die. Let him drown. Let me be free of him.
The pirate captain held longer than she expected, unblinking and thoughtful, even as his crew ran to the rail, shouting about a man in the water. A pale man, a soft man.
A rich man.
Valerian’s command felt like a blow, spoken without breaking eye contact.
“Throw him a rope.”
* * *
RYMAN ROSE WEPT every second of the surprisingly long journey from the waves to the deck of the Covenant.
He could barely hold his own weight and wailed as they pulled him up, his hands shaking as he grasped the thick rope around his middle.
When he fell to the deck, sputtering and spitting seawater, it took a long moment to get his bearings.
And perceive the ship he willingly climbed aboard.
“You are not the navy,” he mumbled, looking into Valerian’s face with round, red eyes.
“Are we not?” Valerian laughed, to the amusement of his crew. “How terrible, Lord Rose.”
Before Ryman could shriek again, a few members of the crew fell upon him, binding his hands and feet. Though Cat doubted it mattered much. Her husband was more liable to piss himself than pick up a sword.
“Catrine, help me!” he wept, immediately crying fat, shameful tears. He shook, looking between the only faces he recognized. “Lieutenant Fell, I order you to protect—”
“Gag him too,” Valerian muttered, meeting Cat’s eye across the deck.