“So you admit you’ve always liked me?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes, the scar over her eye flashing against the sun’s light.
“You didn’t ask for permission. You showed up on this ship and forced everyone to acknowledge you,” she said.
I’d thought I knew everything I needed to know, but just then, under the weight of her respect, I learned that I’d been desperately lacking. Val wasn’t the sort of woman to compliment. She was quick-witted and slightly insane, but her respect–that was worth more than gold.
“I’m pretty sure it was luck and desperation more than anything,” I whispered.
She shrugged. “But you did something. That’s the difference between the women who make history and those who don’t. The world is built to make us footnotes. We have to claw our way for what we want.”
I’d never heard her talk with such conviction. It was out of character for her, whereas she was usually morally opposed to being serious.
And so I dared to ask the question I’d always wondered about her.
“What is it that you want?” I asked.
She turned to face me, no hint of a smile on her heart-shaped lips.
“This,” she said, staring out into the blue horizon.
“This?” I asked, trying to keep the skepticism from my voice.
She threw her golden braid back and laughed like she was daring the gods to tell her otherwise.
“This,” she said, laughter peeling off. “Everyone sees my scar and the tattoo on my chest and assumes I have some tragic backstory that forced me into the cruel fate of being a pirate, but the truth is I fought and clawed my way for this.”
I didn’t know if it was wise or foolish to confess that I often wondered the same thing. How fate had pulled her into a life of pirateering.
“I have parents who are alive and well, last I heard. I grew up with everything I ever needed. Yes, it was Piccadilly Street, but we were lucky enough to not know the meaning of want when it came to food and basic needs,” she said. “I have three older brothers who never treated me any differently because I was a girl. My mother always says it’s their fault I believed I could do anything.”
A light breeze blew past us, paying testament to her words and the life she lived.
“So with infinite confidence and an unshakable will, you thought, ‘Ah, yes, pirateering will do,’” I said.
Her short laugh was a song in the wind.
“Pretty much,” she said. “I didn’t want to do anything else. I wanted a life on the sea and the threat of a noose behind me. I would have settled for respectable shipping like your family’s company, but all they could see was my sex. Women are bad for ships, as you well know. So I set out to find less respectable means of a life at sea. I finally found a captain who would take me on, but mostly because he was desperate. The crew didn’t appreciate him any more for it.”
“But you stayed,” I said, knowing who the woman beside me was.
“I stayed,” she echoed. “And when the mutiny came for the captain, they came for me too.”
She ran her finger over her silver scar like a knife.
“Those bastards tossed me over, and the gods laughed because I should have died, but instead, a pathetic excuse for a ship pulled me out of the water.”
She smiled fondly at the memory, and I didn’t need to ask the rest.
“Bash,” I said.
“The asshole himself,” she said. “He stared down at me and asked how I ended up in the sea. Even then, Billy was always trying to temper him, but I respected his directness.”
She paused, remembering, and for a moment I was her on that ship, waiting for a captain’s judgment.
“I told him because I was a woman, since that was my only crime,” she said, turning to face me. “He nodded, and that was the end of it. I’ve stayed by his side ever since and, believe it or not, princess, I’d do anything to get him back. Even follow a deranged socialite with questionable planning skills.”
I resented the burning in my eyes that had no place in this lesson on strength and determination. Yet, the emotion that burned in my chest at her loyalty and reverence was choking me.
