Page 117 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
Beside her is a man as broad, tall, and muscled as Ducayne, but with deeply bronzed skin. His black hair is shot through with a single white streak, and his eyes are shockingly pale. Under his massive leather coat, his chest is bare, and a series of chains and medallions dangle over it. A well-stocked weapons belt hangs on a hook on the wall behind him. One of his hands cups the underside of the woman’s thigh, and he’s stroking along it. As I watch, his hand drifts nearly to her crotch, and she glances down at him quickly with a knowing smile. He grins up at her.
Though they’re surrounded by other interesting characters, those two hold my gaze as I hop onto one of the high stools, across from Ducayne. My view is partly obstructed by his form, and I lean a little for another glimpse.
“Who are they?” I whisper. “I’ve never seen anyone like them.”
Ducayne half-turns to snatch a look. When he turns back around, he’s wearing an aggrieved expression. “I should have gone bare-chested and wornmychains tonight.”
I kick his shin around the barrel. “Hush, thrall.”
A sailor passing by me looks sharply at both of us. I duck my head, withdrawing into the shadow of my cloak.
I watch the sailor slide into the corner booth, where he leans over and says something to the man with the white streak in his hair.
And then those ice-pale eyes snap to mine.
My stomach jolts. “He’s looking at me,” I whisper to Ducayne. “Why is he looking at me? He can’t know who I am.”
A barmaid bustles up to us at that moment. “Something to eat or drink?”
“Two bowls of stew, bread, soft cheese, pie, and your finest wine,” Ducayne says.
She hurries off, while I shrink further into my cloak.
Ducayne gives me an exasperated stare. “You’re looking more conspicuous, not less so.”
With a sigh, I toss back my hood.
And then I wish I’d kept it on, because the sailor with the ice-pale eyes has left his booth, and he’s standing right behind Ducayne.
The chatter in the common room dwindles.
I have been around many people—some with inherited or purchased power, and some who thought they had power but didn’t. The man behind Ducayne radiates true power—power that he has won and defended.
“Good evening, friends.” He claps Ducayne’s upper arm with one hand—thick-fingered, adorned with heavy silver rings.
“Evening,” says Ducayne casually. But his hand slides beneath the table. He, too, has a knife strapped to his thigh.
“My mate there happened to overhear a word we don’t much like,” says the pale-eyed man. “The word ‘thrall.’ You are a Thanniran pleasure thrall, are you not? And before you deny it, know that I can sense tattoo magic. I am a tattoo mage myself. And I cannot discern your exact vow, but I know you bear a mark, just here.” He claps Ducayne’s bicep again. “Is this your mistress, then? She looks to be of noble blood.”
All around us, people are quieting, turning to watch.
This is my nightmare. This is everything I feared might happen.
“Yes,” says Ducayne tightly. “This is my lady.”
“Your lady.” The pale-eyed man clicks his tongue. “My crew and I—” he gestures to the group in the corner booth— “we came here a few days ago to render a bit of pirate justice for some friends of mine. One of my ships was scuttled just off the coast, you see, and all her crew hanged. Some of them I knew personally, so of course I took it personally.” He touches his chest.
I cannot breathe.
Meldare’s story of the pirate ship that was sunk—the crew that was hanged—the captain who swore the Pirate King himself would seek vengeance—
“You are the Pirate King,” I breathe.
“You’ve heard of me.” The Pirate King smiles and bows slightly, but there’s no warmth in his eyes, not for me. “Well, to continue my story. I protect those who fly the Crowned Skull-and-Bones. So we came here, and we dispatched justice on the mayor and those who had a hand in killing my people. And when we were done with that—well, the storm set in, didn’t it? So we decided to do a bit of good in this town, right, love?”
He winks at the freckled woman in the booth, and she nods. “We did indeed.”
“You see, noble lady,” he continues. “I let my ships steal from Thanniran vessels for a very good reason—because Thannira is a slave nation. You have used pleasure thralls for generations, and in the past two years you have not made strides toward becoming better—oh no. Instead, your king legalized the import of slaves. If there’s one thing worse than a slave, it’s a slave kept for sex, forced to please their owner.”
