Page 31 of Crossbones
God damn this man.
And then the part aboutthis isn’t goodbye—that’s ominous—and the more I think about it, the more I think I’m missing something big. It’s like when a word is on the tip of your tongue and you can’t quite remember—
I’m heading back up from the beach to regroup with Harrison and Lan when I round a corner and run straight into a line of six De’Vero soldiers. Like this night couldn’t get any worse.
“James Blackwell.” A soldier steps forward while the group circles me. My hand goes to my pistol but the barrel of a musket presses against my back. “I wouldn’t do that.”
The man yanks my wrists behind me and clamps on manacles. As they’re leading me away I know this is too neat to be a coincidence.
Fox escapes and hours later I’m arrested? This has to be his doing.
JAMES
THREE DAYS LATER
A shove sends me stumbling through the massive double doors of the throne room and I nearly fail to catch myself. The trip overland to De’Vero is usually only a day but the De’Vero soldiers had split it into two after taking their time leaving Carmine. The trip had been hell—and that’s putting it mildly. Now as I’m escorted down the middle of the throne room, my anger at the opulence is effective in pushing aside my fatigue.
My attention is fixated on the King sitting on the throne at the far end of the hall. The past roars up so fast I stumble again as the soldier flanking me gives me another shove. I suppress a growl, the urge to retaliate is nearly too much to ignore. As we approach, I notice the King looks sickly, far less of a monster than the man I’d conjured up in my mind all these years. It’s satisfying to see him on the decline.
On his right is the crown prince—Aldric, I believe is his name. I don’t know much about the son, but from the sour twist of his mouth and the way he appears to be petulantly sitting tells me I probably won’t like him. Besides the guards lining the room, the only other man of note is the soldier standing at the bottom of the dais steps—his decorations label him the General of the fleet.
There is an empty throne next to the King, two in fact. One I know is for the Queen who died years ago, and the other is for the second son. I’ve never seen him. The rumor is he is the kingdom’s drunkard, playboy and generaldegenerate who shirks responsibilities and spends most of his days gallivanting in the brothels.
The soldier who’d caught me and escorted me here, bows low beside me.
“Your majesty—”
When he sees I’m not following his lead, he kicks the backs of my legs, sending me sinking down to my knees. My jaw clenches, fists tightening with the urge to put him in his place.
“I’ve brought you the infamous pirate—Captain James Blackwell.”
Both royals appear taken aback although Aldric hides it faster than his father.
“And how in the world did you manage to do that?” The King asks.
The soldier looks startled and confused. “I received a tip, sire.”
“A tip?” Aldric states. “From whom?”
“It was anonymous, your majesty.”
“Ananonymous tipallowed you to take down one of the most notorious pirates to ever sail these seas?” The prince states incredulously.
It’s annoying how they’re rubbing it in—I’m well aware of how ridiculous this is. Thankfully, before anyone can speak again, the doors behind us slam open and everyone’s attention goes over my shoulder as the sound of boots striding over marble echoes through the space.
A smirk appears on Aldric’s face as he sees who’s approaching.
“Ah, the runaway returns.”
The soldier turns and hastily bows again but when I attempt to turn to look, he shoves my head down, forcing me to bow once more. That’s the final straw for me. I lunge for him—landing a hit to his jaw before dragging him down to the ground and wrapping my manacles around his neck. I lean back with all my strength, bent on killing him.
I’m already fucked, might as well take one with me—
I hear the click of a pistol as it’s pressed to the back of my head and a familiar voice carries over the sound of the man choking under my hands.
“I would really,reallyhate to have to shoot you, Captain.”
The shock of that voice in this setting causes me to loosen my hold enough that the soldier is able to shove me off and scramble out of harm’s way. The pistol retreats and Fox steps into view in front of me, that cocky, smug-ass smile firmly on his face.
