Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger, comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right.
“You have almost as much hair as I do, but not quite.” Widow pins my brown locks away from my face in loose, draping waves.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I look sort of …” I wince. “Shriveled.” God, that sounded worse out loud than it did in my head, and it already sounded pretty damn horrid.
“It’s not as bad as you think.” She tuts. “I got hexed several years back. Turned my nose three sizes too large, my mouth two sizes too small, and don’t get me started about the damage down below.”
My mouth drops open. “You can’t be serious.” I stare at her in the mirror of her cottage. It’s a cozy little house with a warm fire and a few touches here and there—like the intense cutlass collection on the wall—that are completely Widow’s personality.
“Serious. That’s what I got for sleeping with a witch’s man. Of course, I didn’t know he was spoken for when I was astride him.” She shrugs. “I was all messed up after that witch got ahold of me, I can tell you that.”
“How’d you get back to normal?”
“Oh, that part wasn’t too difficult.” She pins another lock of my hair. “I told the witch the truth—that the lout had tricked both of us.”
“So, she undid the spell?”
“Not right away.” She leans down and looks into my eyes. “First we needed a blood sacrifice.”
“Whaaa?”
“Leonard wasn’t the same after that. He was missing a couple of pieces, but his singing voice became quite high and lovely.
” She gives me a wicked grin. “Then I was back to my old self.” She turns her head so her profile is reflected.
“Though sometimes I think my nose is a hair larger than it used to be.”
“It’s perfect,” I say.
She fusses with my hair a bit more. “All that to say, plenty of folks have had ailments like yours. Magical or whatnot. Doesn’t mean they can’t be reversed.”
“At the Fairy Village?”
“Could be. I’ve never been there, but I’m quite happy we’re going straight to it when we shove off.”
“Why? Aren’t all the fairies dead?”
“All dead?” She scoffs. “Who told you that?”
I don’t even have to say it. She answers her own question with a sour look. “Peter. That little whoreson will say anything, won’t he?”
I want to rub my face, but that’ll ruin the little touches of color she’s put on my cheeks. “I guess I just assumed it was the truth since I haven’t seen any fairies except Tinker Bell.”
Her face sours even more. “I’ve heard nary a good word about that little beastie.”
“You have no idea.”
“We should have a girls’ night once we’re back at sea. You can tell me everything that slimy ponce Peter told you, and I can tell you what percentage of it is utter bollocks.”
“Deal.” I look down, my heart stinging with a memory, still mourning the last friend I made and lost.
“Coy?” Widow already knows somehow.
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you when I told you he wasn’t real.” Her voice is softer now.
“I know.” I can’t tell her I met with Tinker Bell, not when I plan on finding Geo and stealing the fairy dust from him.
But I want to, all the same. Now that I know the truth, I’m ashamed of how I spoke to her.
“I’m sorry about what I said.” I take a deep breath and open a small door, showing her a bit of myself I usually keep hidden.
“I’m just afraid. Really afraid. My mom, she had a disease—well not a disease that they could diagnose.
She lived in her mind to the point that she neglected to actually live.
” I tangle my fingers together in my lap.
“She faded. When I was little, she was present. But she had episodes that gradually got worse until she was just … gone. She didn’t know reality from fantasy.
She was lost. She died that way—lost.” I stop when my throat tightens, my emotions trying to rise to the surface.
She puts a hand on my shoulder. “That explains a lot.”
“It does?” I finally work up the courage to catch her gaze in the mirror again.
“Why you sort of went—” She puts her fingers by her head and wiggles them around. “That night.”
That makes me smile. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“It’s not easy to accept all this.” She smooths down a few loose strands, then steps back and checks her work.
“People don’t believe in magic. At least, I didn’t.
The world tells you it’s all a trick, one designed to part you from your coin.
There is no magic, they’d have you think.
There is nothing beyond toiling at your employment and going home to supper and doing it all over again for the rest of your life.
” She leans down, our faces beside each other in the mirror.
“But they’re wrong. There’s a million secrets out there, each one with enough magic to power worlds within worlds. ”
Her words are like a bandage on my wounded psyche. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to put the ‘real’ world away for a while. I don’t know if I can do it, but at least I can try. “You know, Widow, I’m beginning to think you have something of a poetic soul.”
She stands upright and puts her hands on her hips. “Pish posh. I’ll run you through if you keep talking like that.”
I laugh and rise from my seat. “Thank you for doing my hair. I like the braids and the way you swept it up in the back. I’ve never had such a pretty look before.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Now go back in the big house and put on your fancy dress. I’m going to get changed, too. I’ve never seen the Guardians, and I’m expecting big things from this Tiger Lily I’ve heard so much about.”
“Oh, Widow. She’s beautiful. Like a model. Seriously. I don’t know where you land on liking girls, but guard your heart in any case.” I pull back and catch the cat-like look in her eyes.
“Now I’m intrigued. Might even rouge my tits for the evening to get more of her attention.”
I laugh and head to the door. “Do what you need to do.”
“See you in a bit.”
I walk through the center of the cottages, most of the pirates inside to get “presentable” as Skylights put it this morning during sparring. Most of the pirates groaned—except Starkey—who began strutting around like a peacock even though Bill had already given him a bloody lip.
“Pleased ter make your acquaintance, fairy princess,” Cookson calls from his spot at the fire.
I turn and stare through the trees to see who he’s talking to.
He lets out a hearty laugh and uses his red kerchief to mop the sweat from his brow. “I’m talking ter you, girl.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. “Aww, thanks Cookson! You look nice, too. Is that a new apron?”
He pats the dark brown material with pride.
“Nessie made it for me. I’ve never had something so fine in me life!
I only hope my food is up ter Tiger Lily’s standards.
I only saw her the once—when she tried ter slit the captain’s throat.
” He smiles like it’s a fond memory. “Fierce. It was a shame we had ter leave her on the rock, but she brought that on herself coming after the captain.” He goes back to pouring some sort of glaze on what looks like rack of lamb.
“I’m sure she had her reasons.” I’d like to know what those are. “Do you know why she did it?”
He looks up and scratches his bald head. “I don’t rightly remember. Something ter do with her people going missing. Not sure. But you can ask her soon.” He glances at the moon. “Real soon, fairy princess.”
A violin strikes up from one of the cottages.
“Better wear your dancing shoes. I’ll be looking ter sweep you off your feet later.” He grins and cleans off his prep area by the fire.
“I look forward to it.” I give him a little wave then hurry into the house and up to my room.
The dress is hanging in my closet, and I’m excited to put it on.
It slides over my skin like silk though I assume it’s some sort of cotton.
I honestly don’t know a thing about fabric.
Shakespeare? I’ve got you covered. Everyday useful stuff like how to fight or how to make clothes—I have none of it.
But I’m working on myself. Seems like ever since Hook took me in his arms and plunged me into the waters off the island, I’ve been learning more about myself than anyone else.
Maybe I should ask Nessie to show me some sewing basics.
Then again, given the way her scissors make me feel, maybe I should start small.
Starkey knows how to sew. If I can put up with his over-the-top flirtations, I can probably learn a thing or two from him.
The dress sits nicely on me, the front dropping into a V between my breasts, but not perilously so, and it cinches in at my waist before flaring out at my hips and draping almost to the floor.
When I take a step, the fabric falls from my leg, showing skin up to my thigh.
Somewhat revealing, but all the important bits are covered.
When a knock comes at my door, I practice swishing my way over to it, then realize I look silly and just walk like normal, slight limp and all.
I open the door. “Um, hi.” I can’t seem to form any more words.
Not when Hook is standing in front of me clean-shaven with his hair styled off his forehead in black waves that frame his angular jaw.
He’s wearing a crisp white shirt with the same golden embroidery of moons and flowers on the collar as mine, and it’s buttoned down into a pair of deep blue pants.
He smells so good, that familiar scent of pine tar and sea spray, and when I focus on his hands, my eyes widen.
“What’s that?”
“For you.” He holds up a golden necklace with a huge blue sapphire at its center and opals fanning out from it on either side.
“It’s …” I reach up to touch it, then pull my hand back. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is.” He holds my gaze. “Turn around, lass. I’ll put it on you.”
“Are you sure?” I do as he instructs and turn my back to him. “It looks expensive.”