Chapter Twenty-Six Before #3
That seemed to please him, the corners of his mouth twitching into another crooked grin.
“How will you spend my ransom?”
The smile dropped as swiftly as it came, and Cat felt as if she had scored another point in their strange game. The taquil warmed in her throat.
“Unless, of course, you do not wish to answer,” she added, watching Valerian think.
Finally, he relented.
“I suppose I could buy a few bottles of rum with it,” he said, a spark of mischief in his eye.
It was far better than pity, and Cat huffed a laugh. “Bad rum,” she mumbled, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
And then not regretting them in the same heartbeat.
“What makes you say that?” Valerian sharpened, dropping his voice so that only she could hear. He wore an expectant look, as if he already knew what she was going to tell him.
In her heart, Cat admitted that he did.
“You know we can’t pay the money.” The confession felt like drawing a blade and putting it in the hand of her assailant, giving him the only weapon she had in a dangerous world.
“You know we didn’t cross the ocean with a single crown of imperial mint, let alone three hundred.
If we had, you would have taken it already, when you plundered the Credence. ”
The edges of his mouth twitched, as if Valerian wanted to smile again. She gathered that was his way, to grin at obstacles before cutting his way through them. Her breath hitched, and Cat prepared to be cut.
Instead, his bearded cheek brushed hers, the touch of it surprisingly soft as he spoke into her ear.
“I’ll take what you can swipe together, nothing more,” he breathed, every syllable sending a shiver down her spine.
Despite his closeness, Cat could not help but turn her head, facing him so they were nose to nose. She searched his stormy eyes, hunting for a lie or a trick or a joke. She had heard all three from Valerian Kane in recent days.
She found none in him now.
“What about the crew?” she murmured, intimately aware of the crowd in the tavern. Raiders who did not sail into danger to go home empty-handed. “You promised them a prize.”
Valerian did not move. “We still have the lieutenant. He’ll fetch a good price.
And don’t be so hard on yourself, Lady Rose.
You certainly have something to give,” he added, somehow without implication.
“Yours is a safe island to take on water, should we have need in our travels. It is the least you can do,” he said with a meaningful look that make Cat’s heart lurch.
Already she thought of days ahead, watching the horizon for a familiar ship.
It may only add to my torment, she thought. To be a fish waiting for the hook.
“And the crew will manage,” he added, scattering her thoughts. “Besides, there is far more to catch at sea, Lady Rose. And prizes who do not require a trip into Archenport harbor, where many a pirate ship has been caught.”
His eyes flashed and Cat bit down hard on her tongue, stifling a gasp. It was no use. She was caught out, the ruse Lieutenant Fell coached her into falling apart at first opportunity.
“The bank—”
“The bank is a clear trap, Lady Rose. I have absolutely no intention of sailing this ship or my crew anywhere near a navy ambush.”
She expected to feel dismayed, defeated even. Hold the ruse. She had failed entirely, if she ever succeeded at all. But she felt oddly light, elated even. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.
On the porch, the fiddle began in earnest, alongside Garedo and his haunting notes. The brawl had ended, Morovant’s two old sailors returning arm in arm, slapping each other on the back. Cat jumped back from Valerian as they approached, making herself as small as possible behind the bar.
“Since when did the Drink get a barmaid?” one chortled, slapping a hand on the wood. “I’ll take whiskey, gal.”
“Same for me,” his companion said, bellying up like a customer.
“Mr. Dorian, Mr. Pine,” Valerian said, making room for the pair.
Both were too drunk to notice his greeting or Cat’s position as anything but a barmaid.
They jabbered back and forth like squawking birds, descending into incoherence.
Neither seemed like they needed another assault on the liver, but Cat put two empty glasses in front of them anyway.
Valerian snickered, watching alongside her as the two old sailors sipped at nothing.
It was an odd tableau, but oddly comforting too.
For the first time in months, Cat felt more on solid ground. She wasn’t even dizzy as she left the bar, ready to retreat for the night.
“I think I will return to the Covenant now,” she said, halting on the Drink’s step. “Thank you, Captain Kane.”
Valerian did not stop her but leaned, one arm against the top of the doorframe. He filled the space easily, radiating his warmth into the cooler air of the beach. Cat had to stop herself from leaning into it, despite the sweat drying on her skin.
“You are not a member of my crew, and I am not your captain,” he said, a gentle correction. His hair fell in his eyes again, the ends bleached nearly white. “We are not kings, Lady Rose.”
“Then stop calling me Lady Rose,” she shot back, to his amusement.
He grinned. “Very well.”
The sight of his smile kept her rooted, and Cat wished she might stumble again, if only so Valerian would catch her.
“No kings,” she mused instead, repeating him. “Are you saying you’re a democratic sort? How progressive.”
“One of the many reasons we are despised by the crowns,” he said, his chest swelling with pride.
Cat could not help but smirk at such a thought. Much as she had come to enjoy Valerian’s company, there was no denying what he was to begin with.
“The other reasons being that you pillage, plunder, and otherwise interfere with their trade, transport, and travel through the Lyrian Sea?”
“I suppose that may be a larger factor.” His tone sharpened. “But one might call taxes robbery too. And the navy does its fair share of pillaging, albeit from the Brycam City gutters and orphanages.”
Her convictions wavered a little.
She knew the Meridian navy recruited its men from all walks of life, raising many from the poor slums and dockyards, the debtors’ prisons, the orphanages.
Lieutenant Fell himself had mentioned he was an orphan boy, and it was not difficult to imagine what had brought—or shoved—him into the navy.
But then Ryman said it was the best chance some of these young men had at a better life, at a purpose and direction.
Though she doubted most words that came from Ryman’s mouth.
“Brimley seems happy with his choice,” she said, finding the other man laughing with his friends.
Valerian followed her gaze.
“Most defectors are.” He shrugged, but it was a facade. An attempt to look disinterested, when he was anything but. “After all, you can’t vote out a naval captain if he mistreats his crew.”
Something in his voice gave her pause. Again, she tried to picture Valerian Kane in regal uniform, his collar buttoned up his throat, a stiff tricorne on his head. It did not suit.
“But they could vote out you?”
This time he laughed as if he were saying something obvious, something everyone already knew. Cat ventured everyone did.
“Any crew could. We all vote for our captains. If they—” He stumbled, corrected himself. “If we aren’t suited, we can be removed from our position. And another captain voted in.”
It sounded both ridiculous and marvelous, another impossible piece of the Lyrian Sea.
“You’ll learn,” she murmured, a dazed look on her face as she echoed him once more. “I suppose I am learning.”
“We all do,” he replied, without thought or hesitation, repeating the conversation with ease.
Neither shifted, not giving ground or taking it. Only when another pirate approached, shuffling towards the open door, did Valerian relent, swinging wide to allow the other man to pass.
And then Cat after him, all but forcing herself out into the night air.
“Good night, Cat,” he said.
She was already on the sandy path but turned over her shoulder. Her senses swirled, filled up with the smell of tobacco and taquil, the brush of worn playing cards and rough fingers.
“Good night, Valerian.”