Chapter Sixteen Before #2
Cat swallowed hard, eyes darting between both men. Fell was an officer but lowborn, bound to duty. In Meridia, he would have to scurry away from men like Ryman Rose.
Fell heaved a sigh, his shoulders rolling like a ship on a wave.
“I’ll not suffer this,” he muttered, lunging.
We are not in Meridia anymore, Cat thought, her jaw falling open.
In an instant, Ryman dropped to a knee, one leg kicked out from under him.
His howl of pain was quickly stifled as Fell shoved the gag back into place, far more forcefully than the pirates ever did.
While the lord screamed into the wadded rag for gods knew who, the officer pushed him back on the bench, bound fists raised in warning.
Lord Rose’s whining died in an instant, his eyes fixed on Lieutenant Fell’s closed hands and bone-white knuckles.
“Touch me and I’ll make you wish the pirates left you in the water,” the officer said, his dark hair spilling loose around his face. It shrouded him like a hood.
Thoroughly cowed, Ryman nodded, drawing his knee to his chest to rub at the growing bruise beneath.
Cat watched it all without blinking, entranced.
The ease with which Lieutenant Fell subdued her husband was enviable at the very least. She knew he was a navy man, an officer in wartime.
And an orphan before that, certainly hardened by the cold streets of colder cities.
She was not surprised he could handle himself in a fight, nor was she surprised her soft-handed husband folded so quickly beneath Fell’s fists.
But it was still something to witness after all her life in a birdcage, watching the world between the bars, the lines of rank and aristocracy so deeply carved.
She found her voice shakily.
“I bargained the captain down as best I could,” she said, trying to offer some kind of explanation.
It was a foolish price to agree upon, and she did not want to seem foolish now, not in Fell’s eyes.
“There is no money, nothing liquid at least.” Desperation wormed through her words, hoping to make him see. “There was nothing else I could trade.”
Behind the bars, Fell held her gaze too harshly, as if willing himself not to follow the implication.
But there is no implication to make, Cat knew. She remembered how awkward Captain Kane seemed in his cabin, offering her a coat to cover herself. Somehow, she doubted he would trade his golden ransom for one made of flesh, even if she had offered.
“Nothing he would take, at least,” she said, a little more forceful.
Fell gave a sniff.
“He is a pirate. Taking is all he knows,” he answered. But he narrowed his eyes, his thoughts clearly racing. “Hold the ruse. They will have to sail for Archenport to collect payment. Those waters are heavily patrolled by the fleet. It is a great prize you have offered this ship, Lady Rose.”
Then a small but true smile split his face.
“And an even greater trap,” he murmured.
Cat’s heart leapt in her chest, and she shot to her feet, reaching for the cell. The bars felt cold beneath her palm, her fingers curling on the iron.
“You really think so?” she said, matching Fell’s grin.
Triumph rushed through her, an unfamiliar feeling. She had few victories in this life, all of them fleeting, if not defeats in disguise. Doing something right, doing something useful, felt like lightning in her skin.
Tossing his black hair out of his eyes, Fell leaned closer to the bars, their faces only inches apart. “With any luck, you’ll lead Captain Kane to his death,” he whispered.
Cat gripped the bars tighter, until the iron bit into her skin. But the pain felt better than the twisting sensation in her gut. She told herself it was just the ship and the rocking waves of the sea. Not the thought of luring pirates to their well-earned doom.
“Hold the ruse,” she echoed, for herself as much as the other two. Her eyes flashed over Fell’s shoulder, finding Ryman on the bench. “Can you do that, at least?”
His brow tightened, a sullen look in his eyes. But Fell was threat enough for him to behave. Stiffly, Ryman nodded his head.
“Good,” Cat said, looking between the two captive men. “Let’s hope they take the bait.”
Footsteps echoed in the passage, and she clamped her mouth shut, returning to her bucket as quickly as she could. In the cell, Fell stood over Ryman, a clear threat to keep silent.
The door swung open on screaming hinges to reveal Ana again. She smiled a wide, taunting smile as she looked at the men in the cell, then Cat.
“Thank you for staying put, Lady Rose,” she said. It felt like being teased. “You’re an obliging sort, aren’t you?”
Hold the ruse, Cat told herself. It was enough to take the edge off the stinging insult.
“So I’m told,” she muttered, looking down at her bare feet. Her toes wriggled against the rough floor, growing colder in the damp hold of the ship.
In the doorway, Ana tossed her black hair over one shoulder, the dark waves curling with sea salt.
“Good, let us keep it that way.” She extended a hand, gesturing for Cat to follow.
Cat blinked at the woman’s fingers. Another chill went down her spine. “Is there . . . more needed of me?”
Someone shuffled in the cell and a body leaned against the bars.
“Captain Kane may treat with me now,” Fell growled behind her, but Ana didn’t bother to look at him.
She only moved her hand again, waving for Cat.
“Orders were for Lady Rose,” she said, her eyes somehow darker than the shadows. “Come along.”
Glancing around the brig, Cat knew better than to argue. Her safety relied upon remaining in the good graces of Captain Kane, and her ability to lie. A great ransom hung in the balance, or at least the pirates believed it did.
And secretly, she was more than eager to get away from Ryman and the dank cell, even if it meant leaving Lieutenant Fell behind too.
“Very well, Miss Ana,” she muttered, rising from the bucket.
This time, Fell did not try to argue with her. Even he knew when to admit defeat, or at the very least, stay quiet. Cat glanced at him over her shoulder, holding his gaze until she reached the threshold. Then the door swung shut behind her.
“Miss Ana,” the pirate woman echoed, shaking her head out in the passage. Her strange accent seemed to thicken when amused. “I do not think anyone has ever called me that.”
Though Ana was the shorter of the two, her strides were quick, forcing Cat to hurry to keep up. She bunched her shift in one hand, so as not to be caught up in her skirts as they climbed through the ship.
“What do you like to be called?” Cat said, eyeing a vast hold of cargo. The crates and chests and packages were mismatched, clearly taken from several different ships.
Perhaps Kane is not so inexperienced a captain as I thought.
Ahead of her, halfway up a ladder, Ana paused, one arm through a rung.
“My name is Anamina Rualcon. So they call me Anamina Rualcon, or Ana for short,” she answered bluntly, shrugging.
“Does it mean anything? In your language?”
At that, Ana laughed and shook her head.
“Does your name mean anything in your language?” she replied, an impatient look on her face.
“Well, I assume,” Cat could only mumble, her face hot. “My first name is Catrine, a family name. And Rose—is not my name, but his,” she added, gesturing in the vague direction of the brig.
That seemed to soften Ana a little. “I never understood that custom, taking names from one to force upon another. But that is the way of you crown worshippers, isn’t it? Shoving yourself into every corner you can find.”
To that, Cat could say little. It was true of course.
The colonies were proof of it, in the Lyrian and across the map.
Ships of the Meridian, trade outposts of the Esperese—they seemed to crisscross the known world.
Raising flags, claiming lands, drawing borders that never existed before.
But it was hardly her concern. Cat was just a speck, and an imprisoned one at that.
Across the narrow passage, Ana bared her teeth, a finger tapping a shining incisor. Cat shrank back, but after a moment she realized it wasn’t a threat, but a thoughtful tic.
Ana tapped her tooth again, making a ringing sound. “I do have another name, one I earned in your language.”
“And that is?”
“The Seawolf,” she said, hauling herself up the ladder.
With a will, Cat forced herself to follow. And tried not to linger on exactly what the nickname meant.
“I think I shall just call you Ana,” she murmured, climbing to the next deck.
Light streamed around the edges of the gun ports, now shut.
But it was enough to illuminate the long stretch of cannons lining either side, all black and silent.
They faced outwards to port and starboard, along the broad sides of the ship.
The iron barrels were longer than a man, and thicker around, set on wheeled, wooden frames.
Each looked like a horse in a stable, well-groomed and cared for, accompanied by neatly coiled rope and an ordered pile of iron shot.
Down the line, the silhouette of a cabin boy swabbed out the interior of a barrel, using a rag on a stick.
Another pirate, a grown man, examined a longer gun facing forwards, perpendicular to the rest.
Cat knew very little of guns and warfare but had seen enough in the last few hours.
The cannons of the Covenant were not to be trifled with.
Terrifying as they were, she forced herself to look anyway, her own silhouette a dark shape in the gleam of an iron barrel.
Ana’s wavered next to her, loping along.
“Where are you from?” Cat asked, glancing sidelong at her. “I apologize, I do not know your accent.”
“I would not expect you to. You are still new to these waters, with most of your time spent on a single island, from what I hear,” Ana replied.
From what I hear. Cat blinked in the gloom, turning the words over. Only three men aboard knew anything of Lady Rose, and she doubted Fell or Ryman were sharing stories with Ana.