Page 61 of Captive of the Pirate King
“All finished, Cook,” he says innocently. “What else can I do?”
“By the powers—finished already?” Cook turns around, his bristly eyebrows sky-high. “How did you—” And then he sees me sitting beside Dez. His thin face settles into lines of awareness and caution. “Well. Avast there, Nick. Aren’t you meant to be elsewhere?”
My shoulders and my smile stiffen. “The captain doesn’t have need of my services at the moment, so I thought I’d make myself useful in other ways.”
“I see.” Cook points a long finger at Dez. “Go up and swab the quarterdeck.”
“But I already—”
“Now, lad, or you’ll get a beating you won’t soon forget.”
Dez scrambles to obey, disappearing moments later with the mop and bucket. I’ve never seen Cook dole out one of his oft-threatened beatings, but the mere mention of them has always been enough to keep Dez in line.
I get to my feet, bracing easily against the sway of the ship. Despite the sunshine, the sea is choppy today. I barely notice anymore, and I don’t have to consciously work for balance. My body has adapted to life on the ocean.
Cook approaches me, scratching his brow beneath the greasy rag that holds back his straggly hair. His forehead creases, and there’s an unusual softness in his eyes. I’ve seen hints of that softness before, but it’s stronger now—a concern that’s almost fatherly. Suddenly I feel ashamed of the way I’m dressed—how much of my breasts and legs are exposed.
“So then, Nick.” Cook clears his throat. “Or is there another name I should be calling you?”
“Nick is fine. Or Veronica.”
“Veronica. You were a good cabin boy. I’m sorry to lose you.”
“I’d like to keep helping out.”
“And what’ll the Pirate King be saying to that?”
I shrug. “If he’s busy elsewhere, I see no reason why I shouldn’t keep myself occupied. Outside his cabin, what I do with my time is my choice.”
Cook rubs a hand across his jaw. “About that, lad—I mean, lass—are you—is he—I wouldn’t want to see a woman come to harm, you know. He kept the men from hurtin’ you, but if he’s putting you through the same pain—”
Realization pierces me, sweet and warm. He’s asking if Locke is bedding me against my will. Cook is offering to help me, even if it means going against the indomitable Pirate King.
“He hasn’t hurt me in that way,” I say. “Anything he’s taken has been freely given.”
“Aye then.” Cook gives me a curt nod and turns to the table, busily rearranging the utensils and spice jars.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “You might be the best soul on this ship.”
“That’s a load of whale-shit, lad,” he grunts. “Now do ye want a job to do or what?”
47
My return to the comforting zone of the galley lasts until sunset, when Cook sends Dez and me up on deck with bowls of stew for the evening meal. Tonight’s fare is fish, leeks, and potatoes in a creamy broth, and it smells divine. My stomach growls as I climb the ladder carefully in my new high-heeled boots.
I walk the main deck, handing out the steaming food like I’ve done countless times as Nick the cabin boy. Cook wasn’t sure about letting me do this, but I insisted. It’s my way of showing the crew that I’m the same freckled boy they teased and bumped shoulders with for weeks. I’m the same person who prepared their food, cleaned their quarters, and shared the perils of storms and the pleasures of the Wierling Isles with them.
Maybe it’s also a small act of defiance against the Pirate King and the new role I’ve been forced into.
As I serve the men and return their subdued words of thanks with a gracious nod, I cast a glance up at the quarterdeck. Locke stands at the helm, one hand on the ship’s wheel while Dolomon and Neelan flank him. They’re discussing some papers that Dolomon holds out—charts or maps of some kind.
I keep moving from pirate to pirate, handing out the food, and still Locke hasn’t noticed me. Iwanthim to notice, but I refuse to make a scene and beg for his attention.
I’ve got two bowls remaining when his head finally lifts. Even though we’re far from each other, a buzz of awareness zings through my body.
He saw me. He knows what I’m doing.
I hand out the last two bowls, and I return below to get the officers’ portions. My heart is fluttering wild in my chest. It’s all I can do to keep my face smooth and calm as I climb the ladder again and mount the steps to the quarterdeck.
