Chapter Thirty-One After #3
But even the liquor couldn’t hide the cloud hanging over the evening, shadowing every face and darkening once-bright eyes.
Even the brutes and swabbies seemed subdued, despite their laughter and raucous talk.
A few spoke quietly, heads bent over wobbly tables or gathered chairs, trading whispered laments.
The truth of their plight was undeniable.
The republic was lost, and the final gasp of piracy upon them.
Their days were numbered.
If only Valerian could see that, Cat thought, finding a golden head above the crowd.
She marched at his back without regard for her wet clothes or the fact that she was supposed to be locked in a cabin on a ship at anchor.
Others jumped aside to let her past, most looking on in amusement, a few with worry.
The crew of the Covenant was no stranger to its captain or his lady’s outbursts.
“Who is that?” a young man grumbled, a new face to Cat’s eye.
An older sailor shushed him down. “The captain’s woman, Cat Rose. Best stay out of the way. She’s been locked up since Nera port, and more dangerous than a lit fuse.”
“I’ll wager she’s ready to blow.” The young man whistled, his voice low but hardly low enough.
Cat ignored them, reaching out to grab Valerian by the shoulder.
He spun before she could touch him, alerted by the sudden hush falling over the Drink. His gaze dropped, holding hers so intently, Cat feared he might burn the eyes from her skull. His lips parted, showing teeth on edge, his golden fang glistening.
Without a word, he raised the porcelain bottle in his hand and swigged a healthy gulp of sweet-smelling taquil. As if he needed the alcohol to deal with her.
Cat mirrored him, pulling a gulp of rum.
“I did not realize I had to lock the windows too,” he said bitterly, dragging his eyes over her wet clothes and hair.
Cat held her ground, letting him look. Her blouse clung to her chest, the collar open to show bare skin and an arched neck.
“I could hardly miss one last opportunity to enjoy the hospitality of Drowning Key,” she said, casting a shrewd eye over the room. “Though she has seen better days.”
Valerian made a noise of irritation low in his throat.
“I can say the same of you,” he muttered. “Now are you going to let Adelo row you back to the ship without a fuss, or will he need to tie you up first?”
“Funny,” she replied, squaring to face him. “You used to do that sort of thing yourself.”
A thunder cloud crossed his face, his expression darkening.
Before Cat could think to move, he had her, his free hand closing around her bicep.
His long fingers encircled her upper arm entirely, his iron grip forcing her along.
Cat could only grimace, allowing herself to be marched back out onto the beach.
But she kept her head held high, refusing to lose what little pride or dignity she had left.
“I should just keelhaul you and be done with it,” Valerian hissed under his breath as he walked her down the beach.
The threat glanced off, meaningless. If you haven’t killed me yet, you never will, Cat wanted to say. But it felt too daring a card to reveal.
“You should,” she snapped, tossing the rum bottle into the sand. “Be done with it. With me, with this. With whatever you think you’re doing. It’s going to end up getting you and all of us killed anyway.”
“Us?” Valerian dropped her arm as if her skin had suddenly turned to flame, and Cat stumbled, tripping into the shallows. He threw her a look of revulsion. “There is no us where you and I are concerned, not anymore.”
The Covenant seemed to watch over them from its anchorage, the black silhouette of the ship dotted with a few burning lamps. Cat huffed at it, the once-comforting sight a looming prison.
“Don’t change the subject, Valerian.” She rounded back to him with a snarl, putting the ship behind her. “The war is over, the Meridian returned. Morovant is dead, half the pirates of the republic dead with him. And the rest are running.”
Valerian crooked a half smile, thin as a knife.
“No one is running, Cat.”
He stared at her through the moonlight, half of him washed in blue shadow, the other gilded by light from the tavern lanterns.
The pirate seemed torn in two, one side calm and still, the other burning.
Cat wavered, trying to take his measure, weighing the Valerian Kane she had known against the man standing in front of her now. He was the same and yet—
Sharper, harder. More desperate.
More dangerous.
Her heartbeat quickened, her mouth going dry.
To her immense surprise, he began to laugh, the sound low and rough.
“You think I’m alone in this, don’t you?” he chuckled, grinning.
Cat wanted to raise her chin or toss her hair, to question his bold confidence in the face of absolute destruction. But her thoughts blurred, too many things coming together at once.
Other captains survived, but how many? How many ships and crews remain?
How many sail with Valerian now?
Her brow arched, her voice cutting. “I think you’re the only one stupid enough to keep fighting the navy head on.”
His grin widened, flames flickering in one eye, the moon glowing in the other. “I do so enjoy when you are wrong.”
“Treasure the moment; it happens so rarely.” Cat flushed and ducked her head, trying to hide the scarlet bloom certainly spreading across her cheeks.
She scuffed her foot through the wet sand, the tide lapping up against her ankles.
“So Vex,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“He did not sail with Morovant’s armada six months ago. He did not fight then. What changed?”
Why now?
Why you?
She studied Valerian again, trying to balance the fearsome legend of Captain Kane with the flesh and blood towering over her.
Gunpowder burns and rope scars, battered fingers, a bronzed face and sun-bleached hair.
Muscles carved by years of hard labor before the mast, and a mind sharpened on the whetstone of survival.
A commander but not a master, beloved and respected in equal measure.
And remarkable, brilliant, a sailor the likes of which the sea had never seen before and might never see again.
He had only one flaw Cat knew of—the heart still beating in his chest, a merciful, bleeding heart he tried so hard to hide.