Page 28 of Vengeance of the Pirate Queen

The question has my eyes drifting closed, a black so potent it could swallow me whole filling my vision. I hear the sounds of splashing water, of screaming.

Hide, Sora, hide!

I force the memories to the corners of my mind, where they belong. Yet I see red when I open my eyes again.

“I love being on the sea,” Kearan says, his eyes fixed on the ocean before him once more. “I love it so much, I wanted to mark my adventures on my skin.” He points to his arm. “I got the helm after the first time I was allowed to steer a ship. I realized I loved it and didn’t want to do anything else.” His finger moves to the sword. “When the captain gifted me my cutlass.” The skull. “The first time I killed a man.”

On and on he goes, detailing out his adventures, until he runs out of tattoos. When he starts to push up his sleeve higher, I stop him.

“I’ve heard enough,” I say.

“You sure? Seemed like you went somewhere else for a moment. You need more grounding?”

In all the time I’ve spent with Kearan, it hasn’t really been his pursuit of me that’s angered me the most. It’s the way he sees me better than everyone else—even when he was drunk. I try so hard to hide those parts of me, but somehow, he sees them.

It’s beyond infuriating. If he weren’t a member of Alosa’s crew, he’d already be dead.

“If you love the sea,” I say, “then why did you try to forget it by overindulging?”

His face falls, and he rubs idly at a spot on his arm. As he does so, his sleeve rides up, showing what I’m certain is the corner of a heart.

He doesn’t answer.

And just like I did before, he seems to drift somewhere else.

The ship slips off course ever so slightly, and I rack my brain for anything to say. I want to call his name. To yell at him. But I know exactly what loud surprises do to a person when their mind is in a dark place.

“Would you like a proper look at the new rapier Alosa gave me?” I ask. I draw my sword and hold it up to the light. The sun catches on the glittering gems, making the guard almost blinding.

“I’ve always favored the rapier, because of its speed,” I continue. “Also, it’s what my father carried as a nobleman. I like that it reminds me of him.”

Kearan’s eyes shift back into focus, and he slides his gaze to the weapon.

“Were you so eager to replace your old weapon?” he asks.

“It was starting to feel … heavy.”

“Because of all the blood it spilled?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it? Killing, that is.”

“Don’t we all enjoy the things we’re good at?”

“Often. But not always. I’m good at rowing. Doesn’t mean I love doing it. But I’ll take my turn like everyone else.”

I look down at the rowers below. Enwen’s face has turned red, but he keeps on like the rest of them. They must be nearing the end of their shift.

“I love killing,” I say. It’s the only thing I love. Sharing that moment with Samvin Carroter over and over again. The taste of revenge on my tongue. The sight of his face when he knew it was me ending it.

Kearan says, “I love hunting. Does that count?”

“Count?”

“As killing.”

What an absurd question. “Animals.”

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