Page 57 of Rears & Vices

She patted the vanilla barrel. “And plenty of reason not, I hope.”

Everard nodded once, let her keep her assumption. “Anyway, there’s really no moral distinction between illegal and sovereign-sanctioned plunder. At least not for officers-in-charge.”

“Oh, no?”

“Not in my experience. God knows no one forces a person to sit the lieutenant’s exams. Now, a Navy crew…”

“They are not free.”

“Precisely.” He ducked his head. “Responsibility scales, you see.”

René put her hands on frothy panniers. “You are a career man, and understand this?”

“Nobody paid my commission, ma’am.” Not that it worked quite like that in the Navy.

“Hm. Best to leave moralistics to Vee; with these I am not so good. I do what the crew ask of me, nothing much more.” She eyed him. “I do have a question for you in especific, matelot. A favor.”

A favor? “Venga,” he prompted, curious. Go on, then.

“How free you are with your self.” René’s eyes narrowed in amusement; rouge-red lips stretched wide. “I will ask: how much of his ear do you have? Truly?”

Damn. How much pull did he have with Vitaliy, indeed. What could he say? If he said hardly any, his status as matelot was immediately in question. If he said he had his explicit trust in all things, he would be lying through his teeth, boasting dangerously to the one person who could refute the lie. If he said he didn’t actually know... which was the truth...

“That’s dependent on the favor,” he said slowly. “Do not you also have his… ear?”

She laughed. “Non, I do not. You are so very Navy. I am not and cannot be his, and he cannot be mine. We are opposite, quartermaster and captain, as is meant to be. Democracy, yes?” She grinned. “The checks and the balances. Maybe you are not so familiar.”

Everard blinked.

“Anyway,” she said, “I thought you would wish me to owe you for this favor, but I see not. Only give your counsel, then?”

Everard bit his tongue and nodded, somewhat hesitantly.

“Now that Vee has a…” René paused. “… kept man, do you think he ought to once again take receipt of his rightful shares of reward?”

Kept man⁠—?

Everard sipped at the half-decent grog, gave her a cool look. She thought he didn’t know about Vitaliy’s take? And thought he would care, upon learning this fresh unknown? He couldn’t give less of a damn about how many shares Vitaliy kept or didn’t. He hadn’t even held on to his own captain’s salary, save to pay for room and board.

But not even Vitaliy himself knew this. It was one thing to give up a Navy salary voluntarily, with promise of pension and future; another thing entirely to be penniless and desperate before the man who had offered him half a bloody ship.

“Or shall he continue on as he has? Refusing them?” she asked, blackened eyelashes lowering. “He has not yet informed me, so I would ask you,” René said. “And of course it is entirely my business, if new articles need to be signed.”

Ex-lovers, Everard thought suddenly. Almost definitely.

He frowned, made it obvious. Scary brows. They were effective. “You needn’t remind me who you are, ma’am. I am perfectly aware. He hasn’t told you of a change,” he said, “because nothing need be changed. His shares will continue to be distributed to the crew at large.”

René apparently could go as flat and expressionless as Vitaliy; she did so now. But it was a tell of its own. He wondered who had learned it first. Who had approached whom, to be co-pirates. How long they had been lovers. If she knew his true name. If she knew of his sleeping issue.

Then Everard did begin to lie through his teeth.

“What is more, you’re quite mistaken. I may be matelot, but I am not ‘kept,’ as you say. I was a Royal Navy captain for twelve years. A career man.” He raised his hand in salud, smiled blandly. “How wealthy do you suppose that will make one?” He leaned in, and whispered, “Why do you think he wanted me?”

René recoiled, nostrils flaring.

He let victory show on his face, just a little, before finishing off his grog.

She slapped the mug out of his hand. His left hand.