Page 30 of Vengeance of the Pirate Queen

“No.”

“I could help row! I could serve food in the kitchens. I’ll take night watches. Whatever you want. Please, I’ll do any task on the ship if you please, please don’t drop me off.”

“If you bring this up again, you’re bound for the brig. You understand?”

She huffs. “What about assassin lessons? Have you given more thought to—”

“The answer is still no.”

She stands. “You’re not my favorite anymore.”

“Favorite what?” Though I hardly care for the opinions of an enraged child.

“Pirate,” she says simply, and for some reason, the word stings just a bit. She stomps away again, this time joining Kearan at the helm, of all places. She sits on the railing before him and says something that makes him laugh. When his eyes dart to me, I can guess she’s complaining about my rulings.

Let them talk about me. See if I care. I have no wish to keep Kearan’s gaze, so I return mine to Bayla’s back.

After a half hour, my arms, stomach, and legs all burn. Muscles I forgot I had throb from the workout.

I keep rowing.

Alosa’s missing girls could be hurt somewhere, so we’ll not slow down or delay in reaching them. If they’re alive, we’ll find them. If there’s any chance that anyone can be saved, I will always fight.

I couldn’t save my sisters, but I will save Alosa’s crew.

THEWINDFINALLY PICKSback up three days later, though it blows in the least favorable direction, so we have to tack the ship, making the voyage even longer.

I make the days count in the only way I know how. I shrug out of my captain’s coat and readjust my knife sheaths. What shall I observe tonight? I could hide myself in the sleeping quarters and see who rises earlier than they should. That’s always a fun one. Or I could position myself high on one of the masts and watch the main deck below me. I can’t hear interactions from up there, but it’s always interesting to see if anyone rendezvous with someone they don’t usually talk to.

I fold my coat and place it in its cubby. Then I turn.

That tricorne is still on the floor, the smallest layer of dust coating it.

The door to my rooms closes without a sound, because I keep the hinges well oiled for just such activities. Kearan is no longer at the helm. His shift ended a few hours ago. Let’s find out what he does when his time is his own. He insisted I don’t know his new habits. I should set about changing that.

He’s not in the bunk area, where Iskirra is halfway through inking a compass onto one of the girl’s upper thighs. He’s not in the galley with the men playing cards. Nor is he anywhere on the top deck. That leaves the lowest level, which isn’t off-limits, but there’s very little reason for anyone to want to be down there, unless they’re trying to hide something.

The hatch barely makes a sound as I open it, and I lower my head into the opening, looking at the area upside down. There’s a small light toward the fore of the ship, so I drop down, my toes connecting with the hull before I land into a crouch. Behind me is all the storage for the journey. Ahead are the cells for those who misbehave. And after that—

I hear crying.

But it’s definitely not coming from a man.

I creep closer, keeping my body low to the floor and hugging the edges of the rounded walls, using the beams of the hull to hide behind as I inch closer and closer.

When my ears catch up with my instincts for silence and nearness, I realize the crying can only belong to one person.

Only Roslyn can manage to sound like that, and her little whimpers break my heart.

“I came down here to be alone,” she says.

For a heartbeat, I make the mistake of thinking she’s talking to me.

“I know,” a deep voice answers. Kearan’s. “I also like to be alone when I cry.”

She makes a sound like a snort. “You don’t cry.”

“Don’t I?” he asks.

---