It was always going to end this way.
When I wake, it’s to the sound of tired wood.
But it’s not theSea Bane,no. The brig is different. The cell on this ship is luxurious: straw is spread on the floor, the space beyond is clean, and it doesn’t smell like the back up piss pot.
I lift to an elbow. My hair is half dry, but the cold ends brush against the skin of my arm and I shiver. My clothes are stiff with drying seawater. My lips are cracked, my skin tight and dry. I try to swallow, but fail. Water waits in a woodencup in the corner. I lunge for it, but the moment it coats my mouth, I sputter, coughing, heaving on all fours, my body stuck in the memory of drowning.
“That good, huh?” a man teases, his voice all smooth baritone.
I flinch to my feet, launching the cup like a projectile. It clatters back to me with a splash, rattling the bars between us. How had I not noticed he was there?
His grin only grows as I scowl. The gesture is surprisingly boyish, his sky-blue eyes sparkling in a way that probably gets him all the attention he could ever want. He flips an intricately carved bone dagger back into its sheath and tucks his hands behind his head, making a show of stretching, clearly too proud of the perfectly tailored shirt that betrays every ripple of muscle beneath. Despite the relaxed front, the lopsided smirk, and the effortless beach waves in his long, baby-blue hair, there’s a current of quiet intensity beneath his movements.
It’s his eyes that give him away. Beneath the charm, they’re surgical, doing their best to carve through whatever ruse he expects to find. I glower, letting him know where exactly he can shove his assessment.
If my throat didn’t feel like it was lined with shattered sea glass, I’d let him know I intend to kill him the moment I have the chance.
Welcometo the Gilded Hart
2
Rune
She looks at me with such malevolence. Twin orbs. Dark umber mixed with gold, glittering with violence.
The kind that threatens to carve out my tongue if given the chance. Thankfully, she’s securely locked in an iron cell. Could be worse for her—she could be at the bottom of the ocean, her breathless body drifting with the current.
I’d been tracking the Headtaker Pirates for weeks, and all in vain. As our spruce bow had eased through the inky blue waters, I came to find them in a fiery, bloody scrimmage with another ship.
The crew and I had almost rushed in to save the opposing side, but even in the fog it was clear they were the ones with the upper hand. It was no innocent merchant’s cargo.
We’d kept our distance, watching the destruction unfold under the cover of thick fog illuminated by flame. I’d seen the woman go overboard, cut down as she tried to flee. No one seemed to notice—or care. It was clear there wouldn’t be a lot of living Headtakers left to turn in for bounties, so why not save her and wring out all theinformation I could?
I didn’t want this trip to be for nothing.
It turns out my instinct was right. Not only was it an opposing pirate crew, it was the fuckingVipers. Just the name has my fists clenching, knuckles bone white. Captain Vincent Ivor is ruthless, savage, notoriously hard to pin down—but rushing in, underestimating him, would mean a swift death. A younger version of me might have tried to use the Headtakers attack as a distraction to go for Ivor while the odds were in our favour, but my crew already bears the mark of going against him and failing.
I shake my head, banishing the memories. I’ve hunted the man too long to let him get away clean, but I won’t make the same mistake I did the first time. We’ll get information from the woman and go in prepared.
As I sit, my skin is drying out, and I’m yearning for a soak in the sea. My thumb finds the smooth surface of the pommel on my dagger. I circle it gently, watching her standing inside the cell, arms limp beside her. Her hair is wavy and long, as dark as charred walnuts, with caramel highlights framing the sharp features of her face. Yet, the warmth of her honey-tinted skin, dusted in a collection of small freckles, softens her edges.
She’d be beautiful if she wasn’t a filthy pirate who is most definitely planning my death.
I wait. Like a shark circling at the slightest hint of blood. I’d tread the uncharted water inside my mind until sunup if it meant that she spoke first. Force it out of her by the use of silence. Lucky for me, I don’t have to wait long.
“Where am I?” she hisses through clenched teeth.
Slowly, I stand, spreading my arms out wide. “Welcome toThe Gilded Hart.”
If she recognises the name, she doesn’t show it.
Wood creaks underfoot as I casually pace back and forth in front of her iron cage, hands behind my back. Outside is quiet besides the gentle lapping of the ocean against the hull. Most of my crew would be sleeping by now.
Finally, the prisoner breaks her gaze as she bends down to reach for something inside her boot.
A slow, deliberate smirk forms upon my lips. “You don’t need that.”
She doesn’t look at me. Nimble fingers continue her search inside her other—what I can only presume—soggy leather boot. “Or that.”
