Chapter 2
Welcome to the Gilded Hart
Rune
She looks at me with such malevolence. Twin orbs. Dark umber mixed with gold, glittering with violence.
The kind that threatens to carve out my tongue if given the chance. Thankfully, she’s securely locked in an iron cell. Could be worse for her—she could be at the bottom of the ocean, her breathless body drifting with the current.
I’d been tracking the Headtaker Pirates for weeks, and all in vain. As our spruce bow had eased through the inky blue waters, I came to find them in a fiery, bloody scrimmage with another ship.
The crew and I had almost rushed in to save the opposing side, but even in the fog it was clear they were the ones with the upper hand. It was no innocent merchant’s cargo.
We’d kept our distance, watching the destruction unfold under the cover of thick fog illuminated by flame.
I’d seen the woman go overboard, cut down as she tried to flee.
No one seemed to notice—or care. It was clear there wouldn’t be a lot of living Headtakers left to turn in for bounties, so why not save her and wring out all the information I could?
I didn’t want this trip to be for nothing.
It turns out my instinct was right. Not only was it an opposing pirate crew, it was the fucking Vipers.
Just the name has my fists clenching, knuckles bone white.
Captain Vincent Ivor is ruthless, savage, notoriously hard to pin down—but rushing in, underestimating him, would mean a swift death.
A younger version of me might have tried to use the Headtakers attack as a distraction to go for Ivor while the odds were in our favour, but my crew already bears the mark of going against him and failing.
I shake my head, banishing the memories. I’ve hunted the man too long to let him get away clean, but I won’t make the same mistake I did the first time. We’ll get information from the woman and go in prepared.
As I sit, my skin is drying out, and I’m yearning for a soak in the sea.
My thumb finds the smooth surface of the pommel on my dagger.
I circle it gently, watching her standing inside the cell, arms limp beside her.
Her hair is wavy and long, as dark as charred walnuts, with caramel highlights framing the sharp features of her face.
Yet, the warmth of her honey-tinted skin, dusted in a collection of small freckles, softens her edges.
She’d be beautiful if she wasn’t a filthy pirate who is most definitely planning my death.
I wait. Like a shark circling at the slightest hint of blood. I’d tread the uncharted water inside my mind until sunup if it meant that she spoke first. Force it out of her by the use of silence. Lucky for me, I don’t have to wait long.
“Where am I?” she hisses through clenched teeth.
Slowly, I stand, spreading my arms out wide. “Welcome to The Gilded Hart.”
If she recognises the name, she doesn’t show it.
Wood creaks underfoot as I casually pace back and forth in front of her iron cage, hands behind my back. Outside is quiet besides the gentle lapping of the ocean against the hull. Most of my crew would be sleeping by now.
Finally, the prisoner breaks her gaze as she bends down to reach for something inside her boot.
A slow, deliberate smirk forms upon my lips. “You don’t need that.”
She doesn’t look at me. Nimble fingers continue her search inside her other—what I can only presume—soggy leather boot. “Or that.”
With a flick of her hair, she straightens, lips pursed in a thin line.
Running her hands around the waist of the trousers clinging to her hips, she continues to look for weapons, going so far as to run her fingers over her inner thigh.
The movement is mechanical, muscle memory, but I drag my eyes from her figure, as distracting as it is—she’s a wet dog, and it would pay to remind myself of that.
She palms under her arm, along her breast, and I smirk as her frustration really sets in. “Oh and you won’t need that one either.
This time, she looks at me. Deep brown eyes, alight with a burning flame, stare straight into my soul. So I stare back.
“You searched me?” she rasps, her voice like barnacles scraping on rock.
I shake my head. “Correction, Tavi searched you. Trust me, she’s more gentle than I would have been.”
Her hand flies to her delicate neck, and I catch the marking on her wrist. I saw it earlier when I saved her from her watery grave, but seeing it again turns my stomach sour. An intricate serpent, wrapping around the circumference of her wrist. Brackish green ink etched into her sun-kissed skin.
The Vipers are the bane of my existence. Scum of the sea. Just the thought of them makes my body flush with the need for violence, and now I have one of their crew here in the hold of my ship.
How the tides have turned.
“Where is my necklace? Did she take that too?” Her voice is filled with venom.
Of course she’d notice the necklace is gone the moment she wakes.
It’s likely the most precious thing she’s ever stolen.
It baffles me . . . her carrying a water elemental’s necklace around like a trinket.
A thing so sacred can only be gifted from the ocean’s guardians, never taken.
And every sea-born knows a pirate would take the opportunity to hunt an elemental, they wouldn’t befriend them.
Stolen, then. That has to be it. But what unsettles me more is this—the ocean hasn’t claimed it back. The moment she slipped beneath the waves, the sea should’ve stripped it from her.
Perhaps I’d interfered too quickly. Either way, it’s safe now. And it’s no longer her concern.
I take a few steps towards the cell. She takes a few back. Leaning my forearms onto the iron bars, I arch a brow. “No, but you won’t need jewelry where you’re going.”
Her brows draw together in a pained knot, the space between them furrowed deep enough to hold everything she isn’t saying.
Then it’s gone. The deep scowl returns, one corner of her lip turning up in disgust, but for some reason, my attention catches on a freckle over her right eyebrow, it’s slightly larger than the rest that dust her cheeks.
“You know, for a pirate, you’re quite clumsy.
Can’t even seem to stay aboard your own ship. ”
She scowls at me even harder.
I push off the bars, shoving my hands into my slate-coloured trousers. My fingers brush the delicate, smooth bone carving hiding there. A nautilus shell, no larger than a green grape, strung on a thin loop of worn brown leather.
I’m not certain why I didn’t put the necklace with the rest of her things. There are no thieves on my crew, so it would have been safe, but it’s safer still where I can ensure she won’t find a way to steal it from the sea a second time.
She takes a few steps towards me, asserting her gaze. “Why did you save me?”
Her question stalls me for just a moment, but I lean into the silence, a loud reminder that it was I who held all the power in the room. With little effort, my shoulders lift and fall.
“I’m a curious guy. Have a lot of questions. So we’re going to have a long chat. And when we’re done, I’ll make sure there’s one less Viper scum ravaging the seas, and one more name to add to my list of accomplishments,” I say, my voice dripping with triumph.
She doesn’t waver. “If you plan to kill me, you may as well do it now.”
“Oh, no. None depraved enough to join with the Vipers deserves a death that easy.”
Who knows, maybe I’ll take her to the far side of the continent, where she’ll trade her blood-soaked dagger for a pickaxe. She’d spend her days underground, never see the sun or water again. Killing her would be simpler, but not nearly as rewarding. Viper Pirates don’t deserve the mercy of death.
Poison cloaked in laughter bubbles from her rose bud lips, her dark brown eyes dragging down to the bone blade I carry at my side.
They linger there for a moment before she flicks them back up to meet me and steps closer to the bars.
“I understand that your limp seaweed stands a tad taller at the thought of capturing a big bad pirate. But you don’t volunteer to sail with the Vipers.
You survive them. So an overinflated ego will do little to move me. ”
“A sea snake with a sense of humour. Quaint.” My legs move without thought.
I’ve never done well with being idle for too long.
Leather soles squeak under the weight of each step as I pace back and forth once again.
“Tell me, how does someone accidentally find themselves on the most vicious crew on this side of the Adamaris?”
The tips of my pointed ears twitch as I eagerly await her response.
She folds her arms, eyes tracking my every move. “None of your business.”
It’s my turn to laugh. This woman, this flea—this vermin—has decided she wants to play games. Unluckily for her, I’m a sore loser, and I always win.
“How many are on your crew?”
Silence.
“I’ll ask an easier question.” I force a grin, my patience waning with every passing second. “Where is your ship headed?”
Her jaw clenches, her eyes saying a thousand words, yet none escape her lips. I could offer her a reward for giving me the information I seek, but that would go against the very fabric of my beliefs. Pirates don’t deserve compromise. Not now. Not ever.
I twist on my heel as the ocean gently rocks The Gilded Hart to a salty lullaby. Three steps and I’m inches from the iron bars, acutely aware of where her hands are at all times. She could quite easily reach me and snatch the blade at my hip.
“Do you have an island stop where your captain frequently visits?” It’s less a question, more of a demand secretly wishing she’ll give me something—anything. It’s like wishing on broken stars though.
Something in her demeanour shifts. With silent ease she takes another step closer to the bars. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because it would be wise, if you value your hands.”