Chapter Eighteen Before #3
“Of course you can, you’re able sailors, all of you,” she said graciously, watching as Cavallid discarded a pair of crescents. Beside him, Garedo’s face twitched infinitesimally.
With his own turn, the Itziman turned over a black star and added it to the pile.
Cat clucked her tongue and Garedo froze, his hand still extended. Again, Brimley laughed into his bottle.
“But not so able card players, I fear,” Cat said, her lady’s smile shifting into a far more devilish smirk. “Mr. Garedo, I believe you hold the X.”
For a long, silent moment, Garedo did not move, as if under some spell. It was enough to make Cat doubt her own counting, her own hand, all the tells she noted over the course of the game. Until the Itziman’s face pulled into a warm grin and he tossed his cards across the tabletop.
The X glared up at them all, the ink red as blood.
“Lady Rose, I think you may be a mind reader,” he chuckled, shoving the pot at her.
“Just lucky, Mr. Garedo. Or as lucky as you can be while being held prisoner,” she added, to another roar of laughter around the table.
But for Cavallid, who slid back his stool and threw up his hands. “I’m finished, finisio!” he grumbled, dipping into harried Esperese and back again. “I cannot afford this. I did not leave the sugar fields to go into debt to someone else.”
Metal clinked as Cat piled her winnings.
“Mr. Cavallid is right, we should all turn in for the evening,” she said, her mind already back in the cabin with the map and the books and Drowning Key.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
The familiar voice cut the sea air like a knife, and Brimley leapt to stand, swaying on unsteady feet.
Garedo and Cavallid reacted less strongly, though both turned to face the silhouette standing just beyond the circle of light.
Cat did not miss Cook doing the same, with Ratter hiding behind his back, the little boy reduced to a bundle of nerves.
She could not blame him.
The sudden appearance of Captain Kane was certainly cause for worry. Especially for Lady Rose.
How long he had observed them, hidden amongst the many shadows of the deck, Cat could not say. But she forced herself to watch as he prowled towards the lantern, the long length of him stepping into the light.
He looked as he had earlier, albeit with a salt-stiff jacket thrown over his white shirt.
The collar was still open, his chain a flash of gold alongside the mysterious tattoo.
The ring in his ear gleamed to match, as did the chain around his wrist. Valerian Kane was not disheveled by sleep, and again Cat wondered how long he had watched them play.
It made her shiver, despite the mild night air.
“Captain, we were just finished,” Brimley said, tucking the rum behind his back.
A long-fingered hand clapped down on Brimley’s shoulder and Captain Kane spun him around.
“How long have you sailed for me, Mr. Brimley?” he said curtly, reaching for the bottle.
Brimley’s throat jumped over the collar of his shirt. “Two months, sir.”
“Those navy habits are hard to break aren’t they,” Kane muttered, shaking his head. He brought the rum to his lips, pulling a swig without so much as a wince. Then he winked, mouth curling into a grin.
Around the table, Garedo and the other members of the crew laughed, but Cat did not. She held her composure, one hand on her cards, the other on her winnings, lest Kane send her scurrying back to her cabin.
“Fear not, Mr. Brimley, there’ll be no beatings on my ship,” Kane added, waving the pirate back to his chair. Brimley sat with a relieved look, his flush receding. “Unless you deserve it, of course. And a ration of rum on your own time hardly warrants such a thing.”
“Aye, Captain,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes. “Sorry, Captain. Forgot myself.”
Still laughing, Cavallid patted him on the arm. “We’ll unwind you yet, Brimley.”
To that, Brimley nodded again, though he did not retrieve the rum. Cat could not help but feel a swell of sympathy for the sailor, defector though he was. She leaned in her seat, close enough to whisper.
“Did Captain Errol beat his men?” she mumbled, searching Brimley’s face.
He glanced back at her, brows raised in shock. “You’d be hard pressed to find a captain who doesn’t, Lady Rose.”
A sick sensation washed over her, too quick to blame on the rocking ship or the Lyrian waves. Cat fought it down with a swallow, cursing her na?veté and cursing herself for showing it so plainly.
“A navy captain,” Kane said sternly, still standing over the table. “That’s not our way, on this ship or any other that flies the black flag.”
Cat held his gaze, even as her cheeks flushed. His superiority, or at least the assumption of it, felt like a slap in the face.
“No, you only rob, capture, or kill innocent travelers,” she snapped, the mask of a Meridian lady sliding off. It even took herself by surprise, and she drew a breath, avoiding the wide-eyed looks of her gambling companions.
“You should go to sleep, Lady Rose,” Captain Kane replied, his indifference shattering the last of her composure. “All that indignation must be exhausting.”
Around the table, Kane’s men went silent. Quietly, Cavallid pulled at a flask, eyes darting between lady and captain.
Cat’s hand curled on the silver coin, clutching it as she would a prayer bead.
“I’m accustomed to it,” she snapped.
“I’ll bet you are,” Kane shot back.
Lip curling, Cat wished for fangs. To be a predator, dangerous in her own right, in need of only herself. So far from who Catrine Rose truly was.
The coin warmed in her palm. It grounded her—something she had earned and not been given. Something won with her wits.
Wit can be a weapon too.
Slowly, her snarl became a mischievous grin.
“Speaking of bets,” she said brightly, turning back to the table. “Mr. Garedo, would you care for another hand? Mr. Brimley, I can spot you if you’d like to deal back in?”
Neither answered, their eyes flying to Captain Kane. Waiting for his approval, or his command. But Kane did not look away from Cat. She could feel his glare on his face, the weight of his tempest stare unyielding.
“Captain Kane, you can take Mr. Cavallid’s chair,” Cat added, still smiling.
Behind Cook, the little cabin boy Ratter’s jaw dropped. Cook was no better, pressing a fist to his mouth. The rest looked on as if waiting for a scale to balance. Or a lit fuse to explode.
Then the captain matched her grin, laughing once. But the sound echoed long after it should have, struck like a chord in Cat’s chest, her heart a vibrating string.
With a flick of his hand, he motioned for Cavallid to rise. The pirate did so without question, hurrying to give Kane a place at the table. And the captain obliged, lowering himself into the seat across from Cat. His eyes never left hers, their blue-green sparkling.
“Deal me in,” Valerian Kane said.
Cat’s hands were already flying, the paper cards a blur beneath the lantern, the circle of light the world entire.