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- Herausgeber: Pushkin Children's Books
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Pirates of the Caribbean meets The Mummy in Vengeance of the Pirate Queen, a new standalone YA fantasy romance, set in the world of Trica Levenseller's Daughter of the Pirate King __________ You can't be afraid of the dark when you're the monster lurking in the shadows. Eighteen-year-old Sorinda is a deadly assassin with a reputation to match. But her latest assignment is like no other. The pirate queen, Alosa, has tasked her with captaining a handpicked crew on a dangerous rescue mission, and her sailing master is none other than the infuriating Kearan. But as they navigate through treacherous waters, they accidentally awaken the King of the Undersea, who summons an army of undead soldiers from the depths. With Kearan by her side, Sorinda must fight tooth and nail to survive. Will Sorinda and her crew manage to save the world, or will she face a fate worse than death - becoming an undead queen controlled by the King himself? __________ READERS ARE LOVING TRICIA LEVENSELLER: 'An amazingly entertaining read… I adored the writing style so much' 'This is the second book I've read by Tricia Levenseller… and I'm beginning to think that this woman can do no wrong in my eyes' 'ALL THE STARS! I FREAKING LOVED THIS BOOK HARD!' 'Tricia Levenseller has quickly proven herself to be the master of action-packed fantasies with heacy romance plots' 'You guys; I just could NOT put this down!' 'Tricia Levenseller has only written books I absolutely couldn't put down, and each title gets more and more intoxicating' 'Okay, I think Tricia Levenseller is my new favourite author' 'Tricia Levenseller does such a great job creating kickass, independent women and this was no exception'
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For Jacob,
Because we shared a love of Pirates of the Caribbean and writing stories. I miss you, bud.
“IF YOU WERE WAITING FOR THE OPPORTUNE MOMENT, THAT WAS IT.”
—Captain Jack Sparrow
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Contents
Chapter 1
YOU CAN’TBEAFRAIDof the dark when you’re the monster lurking intheshadows.
I’ve lived by these words since I was five years old. They’ve served me well through many cold nights spent alone. They’re doubly useful when I find myself killing, which is more often than not. The pirate queen has many enemies, and I’m the one she sends to take care of them.
Tonight’s target is the pirate lord Vordan Serad.
This is the first time in my career I’ve had to track down the same target twice. I don’t like it. Would have been far better if we’d gutted Vordan the last time we caught him, but the late pirate king had wanted him alive.
Vordan’s been busy since he escaped. He commissioned a ship under a false name, hired himself a new crew, and slowly began to grow his prestige, starting on the island of Butana. I have no doubt he hoped to raise enough forces to eventually usurp Alosa’s throne.
He should have known better. He should have kept running after he managed to free himself during the scuffle between the land king and former pirate king. Might have had a nice, long life that way.
Instead, he has no idea that I’m curled up under his bed.
He prepares for the evening by lantern light. With my limited view from the ground, I watch him kick off his boots and throw them in the direction of the closet. A white bit of clothing joins them. His shirt, I think. Thankfully, he keeps his britches on. He riffles through one of his pockets, and a soft chink sounds a moment later. He must have pulled out that coin he likes to fiddle with and placed it on the bedside table.
Vordan seats himself on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of the bed, mere feet from where I hide. My heart pounds out a too-fast rhythm at the threat of discovery.
I could do it now, I suppose. Just roll over, grab my dagger from its sheath at my side, and slice his throat.
But Alosa wants him to know on whose orders he’s being killed, and I’ll be in a better position to keep him quiet if I can attack from above rather than below.
Killing is easy. The tricky part is being quiet. Being patient. Waiting for the right moment. That’s what makes me good at my job. Being an assassin is not always about the easy kill. It’s about the best kill.
I hold perfectly still and watch as Vordan stretches out his bad leg. Alosa once used her siren song to force him to jump from a two-story height. I’ll bet he thinks about her every time it stiffens from the cold. He leans over to rub at the muscles near his knee before standing. He takes a drink from something at his nightstand, puts out the lantern, then sits on the bed.
I extend my arm until it is only inches from Vordan’s left ankle. My fingers tiptoe ever closer, until my pointer finger is directly behind his heel. It would be so easy to slice his Achilles tendon. He’d never walk again. Instead, I draw circles against the wood slats on the floor, allowing Vordan to think the last thoughts he will ever have. Eventually, he sighs, pulls his legs onto the bed, and fidgets with the covers.
When he finally goes still, I listen to his breathing, waiting for it to slow. Then I wait some more. If I stay my hand until my marks are deeply asleep, they’re less likely to rouse from any soft sounds I might make in the room. I don’t want them to wake until I’m in position. Until it’s too late to fight back. Not to mention, the longer I wait, the more likely it is that everyone else on the estate will be asleep.
I slide out from under the bed and stand, watching Vordan’s sleeping form for any movement. When his breathing doesn’t change, I draw a dagger and tread to the bed. Scant light from the moon slants through the window. I stand on the opposite side of the bed so my shadow isn’t cast upon Vordan. He sleeps on his back, hands at his sides atop the covers, face pointed at the ceiling.
He’s unremarkable in appearance, with a medium height and build. Brown hair and beard. No distinguishing features. It’s how he stays hidden. Stays alive, really. We pirates don’t typically have long life spans. At least not under the former king’s rule.
As I let my dagger drift closer to his throat, I replace the face before me with one from my memories. One with lighter skin, a beauty mark on the left side of his forehead, a single gold hoop high up on one ear. Straw-colored hair and a clean-shaven face. A cleft in the middle of the chin.
My first kill.
I pretend they all are so I can savor it over and over again.
As instructed, I let my dagger rest on the skin of Vordan’s neck. His eyelids twitch twice before shooting open. Without moving his neck, his eyes veer to the right so he can take me in. “You,” he says. “You’re one of hers.”
“The pirate queen sends her best wishes. You’ll need them where you’re going.”
“Wai—”
Before he can finish the request, I slice deeply, nicking the carotid artery. Blood drenches the sheets, drips quietly on the floor.
And I watch as the life leaves Samvin Carroter for the eighty-ninth time.
I clean my dagger on an unmarred section of blanket and sheathe it. Then I retrieve my rapier from under the bed and reattach it to my waist. Most pirates carry cutlasses, but I prefer the speed and dexterity of the rapier. Besides, I am noble-born, and I like to retain that remembrance of my family.
I exit Vordan’s room, letting myself into one of the hallways of the exquisite mansion he’d been living in. He killed the family who owned it. Bribed or threatened all the staff. Set up what few men he had in the comfy rooms. It was the pattern I had to look for while tracking him down.
He learned the first time that if he stayed in one place, Alosa was sure to find him, so he’d take up residence in some fancy estate, stay there a month at most, frequenting the big cities and rallying supporters. Then he’d move to a new city on a new island within the Seventeen Isles and do it all over again.
Unfortunately for him, a discernible pattern is just as bad as staying in one place.
The door makes the softest of clicks as I shut it behind me before treading down the carpet-clad floor. I round the hallway and take the main staircase, stepping toward the outside of the steps, where they’re less likely to creak. Three levels down and I reach the main floor. Thinking to leave the same way I entered, I pass through the kitchens.
“Hello?” a voice calls out, and I drop into a crouch.
Everyone is supposed to be asleep, but someone must have grown hungry in the night.
I might not be done killing. The thought sends a delightful shot of warmth to my sword arm, my fingers itching to reach for a weapon. As I crawl behind the nearest table, my heart races again. It’s a wild percussion that I’ve grown used to, even crave at times. The thrill of the hunt.
“Did you hear something?” the same voice says.
“No, but it was probably Miss Nyles coming by the kitchens. Probably turned tail the second she spotted us.”
The first man grunts. “We gave her a good beating last night, didn’t we?”
“Not so good as the tupping we gave her the night before that.”
Their laughter fills the corners of the room like a disease infecting a body. I peer over the edge of the table to get a look at them. Two brutes, mostly dark silhouettes next to the meager candle they have on the table between them. They’re spearing cold meats with a knife before filling their gobs and passing a flask back and forth.
I could creep past them silently, leave the mansion with no one the wiser.
But I’m not about to do that after the conversation I just overheard.
It’s a risk to attack with two of them fully alert, but it’s one I’m willing to take.
I move under the table and push between two chairs. I am no more than a shadow as I waltz behind the pair and draw my sword. I strike the bigger one first, smacking him on the back of the head with the pommel of my rapier. The second turns and manages the first note of a yell as I slam his head down onto the counter. Both don’t rise again after slumping to the floor, unconscious.
Footsteps pound above my head, roused by the short-lived sound, and I have a choice to make. I can still slip away, lose them in the winding city streets.
Or …
I stare at the duo on the floor.
Or I can see vengeance done.
It isn’t really a choice.
I slip back into the dark entryway once I ascertain no one has reached this level yet. A banister lines the stairs, with rails connecting it to each step. I reach out to see if my hands will fit into the spaces between each rail.
They do.
As the men race down the winding stairs, lanterns held aloft, I climb them from the side with my arms, hauling myself up rail after rail. Reach, grip, pull. Repeat.
My legs are too high off the ground by the time the men hit the main floor for them to notice me. Four individuals cross underneath me to reach the kitchens. I let myself drop when the last one is in just the right position. He collapses to the ground under my weight, and I snap his neck before he can rise.
The first two men are already in the kitchens, but the third turns at the sound of his crewman falling. I slice his throat with the tip of my sword before he can make sense of the scene in front of him. I flick the blood from my rapier as I race for the doorway, placing my back against the wall just beside it. I sheathe my sword and draw my dagger.
“Two knocked out cold in here,” one of the men says. “Sound the alarm.”
The one following orders dashes out of the kitchens. I grip his arm, throw him against the wall, and rake the blade across his throat.
“Hello?” the remaining man calls out, likely having seen his crewman pulled out from his line of sight before the doors closed.
Why do people call out a greeting when something highly suspicious happens? Do they expect us monsters to announce ourselves?
He follows up with “Who’s there?”
I adjust the grip on my dagger as I wait to see what he’ll do.
He shouts for help, cluing me in to his approximate location in the kitchens.
I throw the doors open wide, sight my mark, and fling my blade. The dagger lands true, embedding in his throat. I don’t retrieve it just yet. Time is precious now.
I veer to the right, where the hidden servants’ stairs rest. Meanwhile, men rouse from their beds and burst out into the hallways. I see them on each landing as I make my way back to the top level. The dark works to my advantage. I’m used to being in its caress. I doubt there’s a soul alive who has better night vision than I do. While I can see the outlines of Vordan’s men, they haven’t a clue I’m a handful of feet away.
Not a soul even looks in my direction. No one thinks to use the servants’ stairs. They might not even know they’re tucked away here. These are murderers, thieves, and all other manner of foul scum. They’re not used to the layout of fancy accommodations such as these. And since Vordan kept the staff on hand, his men would never have had occasion to use this route.
I reach the third floor, where Vordan’s corpse has started rotting, and peek through bedroom doors one by one.
When I find a man who wasn’t roused by the shouting, I enter, tread to the bed, and slice open his neck. It’s not the most creative way to end a life, but it is the most efficient with the least amount of effort. And I have many more throats to slit, so I’ve got to reserve my energy.
“Six down!” someone from below shouts. “Spread out and search the mansion, and you there, go rouse the captain.”
I bolt back for Vordan’s rooms and slip under the bed. The blood has stopped trickling. It’s partially congealed on the floor at the opposite side of the bed.
The door sways open, and boot-clad feet reach Vordan’s resting place. “Captain, there’s an intruder.” He steps back, likely because his hand has come away sticky.
I pull his feet out from under him, climb atop his wriggling body, and prepare to go for the throat.
At the last moment, I turn my hand to the side and land a punch with my knuckles still wrapped around the dagger, right where Mandsy taught me to if the intent was to render someone unconscious.
The lad can’t be more than twelve. He’s all height with no muscles to his limbs. He’s fallen in with a bad crowd, but even I don’t murder children.
Back out in the hallway, I creep through the house, quieter than a ghost. I hear doors slamming beneath me, swords coming out of their sheaths, and men murmuring to one another. I search the rest of the bedrooms on this floor, slitting three more throats, before returning to the servants’ stairs and taking them down to the next level.
With just my head peering down the hallway, I watch a pirate enter into a bedroom to secure it. I follow after him, sneak up behind him, and cover his mouth with one hand while my dagger rakes across his throat. Back out in the hallway, I note that only some of Vordan’s crew are holding lanterns. Should they see my silhouette, I will merely look like another pirate searching through the mansion just like everyone else.
I follow another man into another room, employing the same tactic as before. This one gets down on his knees to look under the bed and doesn’t hear me as I come up behind him. Blood trickles onto my fingers from the knife as I right myself, so I take the time to wipe it and my hands off on the bedsheets before exiting again.
Two figures come toward me down the hall without their own light sources, so I flatten myself against the wall to let them pass.
I pull a second knife from my person as I follow them into another room. The first man gets a dagger thrown to the back where his heart rests beneath the skin and muscle. The second turns, but I’m already launching myself at him, slitting his throat with the second knife.
As I rise, I try to remember the last time I killed so many men in a single night. In fact, I don’t think it’s happened before.
I’m making new memories.
Some men continue up to the third floor, where they’re about to find more dead. Others leave for the first floor. I follow the men upstairs first.
I reach the last one in line, covering his mouth as I kill him and catching him before he can land on the floor with a thud. The next one is too heavy for me to catch as he lands, so I flatten myself into one of the closed doorways as a couple of men look behind them.
“Shit!” someone says. “Find ’em.”
I’m not sure if he said Find him or Find them. Should I be insulted or flattered? I launch from my hiding place when someone passes by and slam his head against the opposite wall. I hear the hammer of a pistol being cocked back, so I turn the man, letting him take the shot.
I reach for another dagger before I let the body drop and throw it at the person holding the lantern. The light sputters out as they fall.
More footsteps pound up the stairs, bringing more lanterns with them, and I drop to the ground, as though I’m just another dead body among the mess.
“Where is he?” one of the newcomers asks.
“He vanishes like smoke,” someone from the first party says.
Definitely offended.
The men tread past me, and I hold perfectly still. One of my arms is looped over my head, concealing my long ponytail from discovery if anyone tries to look down.
A boot knocks into me, but I hold back a grunt as I wait for the newcomers to pass me by.
When they do, I descend upon them one at a time. Slitting throats. Bashing heads. Catching bodies. Kill. Repeat. Kill.
My hands are slippery with blood again. My front is covered with it from all the blood spatter. I dodge a swinging cutlass on my way to deliver an attack to another pirate. He blocks my first strike but doesn’t expect me to deliver a second one so quickly. It pierces his heart.
I spin as the man I dodged comes charging at me with his sword raised; I leap aside but land atop one of the fallen bodies, and my ankle rolls. When I land on my good leg, I pivot in place, ducking a slash and stabbing the man in the gut. I finish him with another slice to the throat.
Then the mansion is perfectly silent.
I rise, take a look around at the carnage. A throbbing pain lances up my leg when I try to put my full weight on my ankle. It slows me down as I retrieve all my daggers and find unmarred cloth to wipe them clean on. I scrub at my hands, though they’re still red when I’m done. Dried blood has worked its way into the creases of my skin. I sheathe my rapier and daggers into their respective holsters. I pull my braided hair out of its loose ponytail and redo it.
Then I search through the mansion until I find the servants’ quarters. Most have barricaded themselves in their rooms or hidden under their beds.
It takes some time, but I finally locate Miss Nyles’s room.
“These are for you,” I say, and I drag the two unconscious men from the kitchens inside, one at a time, ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle. Thankfully, the servants sleep downstairs; otherwise I wouldn’t have managed transporting them.
I pull out one of my daggers and hand it to Miss Nyles, hilt first.
The young woman looks between my dagger and the two unconscious brutes tied up on the floor of her bedroom. She takes the weapon offered to her.
“I suggest waiting until they’re awake,” I offer. “It’ll be better that way.”
Then I put the mansion behind me and sail home.
Chapter 2
THE SEA BREEZE IS warm against my skin as the ship lowers anchor just off the tropical shores of Queen’s Keep, an island gifted to the pirate queen by her siren mother. Initially, Alosa had wanted to name the island Alosa Island.
“I’m the queen. Why not name it after me?” she asked.
“Makes you sound just a tad conceited,” Niridia, her first mate, answered.
“Whatever. If a man named an island after himself, no one would bat an eyelash.”
“You’re not a man.”
“No, I’m far better.”
“Which means you’re too good to name an island after yourself.”
Alosa glared at her.
“Why not something more subtle?” Mandsy, Alosa’s best healer, offered. “Like Queen’s Keep?”
Alosa grimaced as though she tasted something sour in her mouth before turning to me. “What do you think?”
“Name it Queen’s Keep.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
I’m rowed to shore in a dinghy by a blessedly silent party. When I step foot on the beach, a gun fires somewhere in the distance.
It’s not necessarily a sign of danger. Someone could be at the firing range. Still, my instincts beg me to check it out, so I make my way toward where the sound originated. Palm trees line the sandy shores, but a well-worn path leads to the island’s center, where Alosa is still in the process of having her stronghold constructed. Builders are hard at work, hammering and sawing. I pass them by and hear another shot fired, this one followed by a whimper, and I pick up my pace.
When I arrive at the firing range, a peculiar sight greets me. There’s a man tied to a dummy some twenty paces off from where Alosa and Riden stand. A crowd has gathered, and I push through it to get myself a better view.
The queen cocks back the hammer of her pistol, takes aim, and fires. A bit of straw just above the man’s right shoulder explodes, raining down upon him. He shrinks away from it.
“That was the closest yet,” Alosa taunts, turning to Riden.
The smile he gives her makes her own grow, and I refrain from frowning. I liked Alosa better before she had a consort. Now she’s all dove eyes and too much laughter, and I have to put up with Riden at all hours of the day.
The pirate tasked with reloading their weapons hands him his pistol. Riden doesn’t take his eyes off Alosa as he extends his arm and fires.
The hat upon the restrained man’s head blows off, and the crowd applauds.
“Are you ready to talk yet?” Alosa calls out to him. “Or are you going to let me win this wager first?”
The captive rolls his lips under his teeth to keep his mouth firmly closed, and Alosa is thrilled. She accepts another pistol, puts her back to the target, and rests the gun atop her shoulder.
“Wait!” the man calls out. “All right, all right. It was Draxen. Draxen sent me to kidnap his brother and—”
Alosa fires, and the crowd gasps as the shot skims the fabric of the man’s collar, not even an inch from his neck. He faints from the ordeal, and Alosa doesn’t bother to turn around to see if she missed or not. She’s simply that good of a shot.
“Show-off,” Riden says to her.
“Don’t be a bad sport just because you lost. Now,” Alosa says, turning to the crowd, “who’s next?”
No, not to the crowd. To the line of men and women bound with rope at the forefront, being guarded by the crowd.
Alosa approaches them, blowing the smoke from her gun as she does so. “You all came in on the ship bearing the newest recruits. This man was among you, and he was caught in Riden’s rooms.” Alosa gestures with her thumb over her shoulder to the one serving as her target. “Draxen’s far too obsessed with overkill to send only one man to do his dirty work, so who wants to offer themselves up willingly? Now’s the time. I’m in a good mood after winning that wager.”
Not a soul says a word, and I know exactly what’s to come next.
The queen starts singing.
To hear Alosa sing is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It has no effect on me because I’m female, but it’s still achingly beautiful. There are no discernible words in the melody, as far as I can tell, but the first man with his wrists and ankles bound says, “No.”
The second says, “No.”
The third, “Yes.”
Riden steps forward and separates the man from everyone else.
On and on Alosa goes, singing down the line, rooting out the spies from her midst with just a few sung notes. Men under her spell have to tell the truth. They have to do exactly as she says. They are completely powerless to her will. And though it makes her terrifying, I have never once seen her abuse this power for her own purposes. Alosa keeps herself and those who serve her safe. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She is a queen I am proud to serve.
I catch a brief movement at the end of the line. A moment later, one of the pirates runs free, having cut his bonds with something he managed to keep hidden. Alosa could easily stop him with her voice. Instead, she gives Riden one look.
He takes after the escapee while she finishes her work, skipping the two females in the lineup. She’ll probably save them for me to question later. I have ways of getting information out of people without uttering a single word.
Another pirate tries to beat Riden to the running traitor. Instead, he’s disarmed and gives a weapon to the man fleeing.
That had better be a recent recruit. How green do you have to be to lose your weapon to someone without one?
Riden’s faster. The queen’s consort can run and fight, which is part of the reason he’s so insufferable. The man is cocky. He has lots to be proud of.
I have far more respect for those who know their skills and keep them to themselves.
Eventually, the running man has no choice but to turn and fight or be struck down by Riden from behind. They face off, steel against steel, while Alosa finishes her lineup.
That’s when she notices me hiding in the crowd.
“Sorinda, you’re back!”
“Just now. Heard the shots and came to investigate.”
Alosa puts her arm around me as she leads me away from the others. Her women are already carrying off the traitors and the two women for questioning. The others are being released. We walk past where Riden is still engaged in battle.
“First time we’ve had a breach on the island. And who’s behind it? Not the land king. No, Ladell is far too stupid for that. It’s whiny, useless, blasted Draxen. The perpetual thorn in my side. Riden, stop toying with him. You’re not even breaking a sweat.”
“He broke free of his bonds. Least I could do was let him feel like he had a fighting chance.”
“Just put him with the others. Will you oversee the prisoners while I decide what to do with them?”
In a quick move, Riden kicks the man’s feet out from under him, steps on the hand holding his weapon, and puts his cutlass to his throat.
“Will do, love.”
Alosa fights a grin as she leans forward and whispers something into Riden’s ear. He nods once, never taking his eyes off the threat below him. Then Alosa Kalligan, Queen of Pirates, leads me into her office—one of the few rooms actually completed in the stronghold.
“How did it go?” she asks me, and I know immediately what we’re talking about.
“He’s dead.”
“Did he know it was me who sent you?”
“He knew.”
“Good. No complications?”
I shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Thankfully, my limp is gone, and the few scrapes I acquired have healed well enough in the month it’s taken me to travel to the keep from the Seventeen Isles.
Alosa gestures to the chair on the opposite side of her desk, inviting me to sit.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
This is one of the things I love about Alosa. She genuinely cares about everyone in her crew and likes to ensure their well-being, whether physical or emotional.
“I’m fine,” I answer. I always am. Just fine. Never better. Never worse.
Holding on. Staying steady as long as I can keep busy.
She says nothing in return, likely hoping I’ll offer just a morsel of information more.
“I’m sleeping better,” I say because it will make her happy. It’s not really a lie. I slept much longer each night while my body was healing.
“That’s good.”
“And you?” I ask, desperately trying to get the attention off me.
She purses her lips. “Busy.”
“Are you saying that running a piratical empire is taxing?”
At that, she smiles. Her eyes are mostly green after all the siren song she used today, and she wears a magenta corset that looks stunning with her red hair.
“There are so many things that need my attention. The fortifications we’re erecting here, for one. Then there’s the constant monitoring of the money coming in and out of the keep. Teniri is happier than ever, counting and recounting the gold. I’m building new relationships with my father’s old clients, so all who wish to cross the sea pay me my dues. Don’t even get me started on the enemies I have to monitor to ensure no one gets any stupid ideas.”
“Is being queen not as wonderful as you thought it’d be?” I ask.
Her smile grows wider. “It’s even more wonderful than I could have imagined. I’m only complaining about the bad things. It’s the trade-off for the wealth, respect, notoriety, and fun I get to have.”
“Speaking of fun, do you have a new assignment for me?” I ask. “Perhaps some prisoners to question?”
“You just got back!”
“I like to stay busy, and you have a lot of enemies, remember?”
“I know. I just miss you when you’re gone.”
My lips twitch, but I can’t find the words to reciprocate her sincerity. I’m not one for sharing feelings or making lengthy statements when a few words will do the job. Besides, Alosa already knows how much I value our friendship. And Mandsy is usually around to express enough love for five people.
Alosa says, “If you’re sure …” She pauses, as though thinking something over. “Do you know what I hate the most?”
“Men who don’t do what they’re told?”
“Yes, but after that?”
I shake my head once.
“Delegating.”
“Delegating,” I deadpan.
“I like being in charge, but I also like seeing things done myself. But now? I don’t have time to do everything, so I have to delegate.”
“Isn’t that the purpose of having lackeys?”
“Is that how you think of yourself?”
“Hardly. Lackeys are replaceable.”
“You certainly are not.”
“What do you not want to delegate?” I ask, getting us back on track.
She rises, as though she can’t stand sitting a second longer. Her boots clip on the floor as she begins to pace. They look new, not a scuff on them, but that could just be because Alosa takes excellent care of her things. “I have a situation.”
“Tell me.”
“You know how I like to keep eyes on the land king?”
“Of course.” He’s been wanting to dismantle the pirate monarchy since he took his throne.
“I had six girls undercover on one of his excavating vessels.”
“Why? I thought you only bothered to have someone in his court?”
“This voyage was different. Ladell sent out a larger crew than usual. There was lots of fighting power aboard the ship, too. Harpoons, enough muskets and pistols to outfit an entire army, cannons that could be transported onto land. He anticipated finding something dangerous. I wanted to know what it was.”
“And?”
“They’ve been gone over three months. I’ve heard no word for the last two. The ship seems to have vanished into thin air.”
“You need someone to find it.”
“I do.” She looks at me pointedly.
At first, I assume she’s joking. Alosa is prone to sarcasm (something I’ve picked up from her). I’m not who you send to save people. I’m the complete opposite of that—an assassin among pirates. But Alosa keeps staring at me, and I realize she genuinely means to ask me to do this.
“Why me? Why not send Niridia?”
“Niridia is already on a mission for me.”
I raise a brow.
Alosa growls one word. “Draxen.”
Alosa loves Riden Allemos more than anything else in the world. Unfortunately, he has the most despicable human being for a brother.
“That was fast,” I say. She’d only just gotten the man tied to the firing dummy to admit who sent him.
“I dispatched her before this little temper tantrum of Draxen’s today. I’ve always known he contests my rule and wishes to set himself up as the king of pirates.”
“Boy doesn’t know when to quit.”
“Indeed not.”
“Why not send me after Draxen and Niridia after the missing girls?”
Alosa sighs wistfully. “I’m not allowed to kill Draxen. For some unfathomable reason, Riden still has a fondness for him. Since I care about Riden, I’m forced to allow that scum of a man to walk the world. Hence, I sent Niridia.”
“Mandsy?” I ask.
“Is with Niridia. I thought he might be a two-woman job.”
“Wise,” I say.
“Thank you.”
Silence fills the room.
“Sorinda, you’re the only other person I can trust with something this important. I know it’s outside your usual duties, but would you please consider it? For me?”
I cannot believe she even has to ask. I would do anything for Alosa. She found me when I was at my darkest. She gave me a purpose. Gave me a family again. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
“I’ll do it.”
She must hear me clearly, but she doesn’t relax yet. In fact, she looks even more on edge now.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You will be sailing into uncharted waters.”
“I gathered that. I’m not afraid.”
“I know you’re not. But for that kind of voyage, you’ll need a seasoned helmsman….”
She lets her words trail off, allowing me to come to my own conclusions.
And, oh, do I. I know exactly who she means.
My blood heats, the desire to kill seems to prod at my very skin, and I can’t help the frown that takes over my face.
“I know, I know,” Alosa says, holding her hands up defensively. “I really do know how much you hate him, but he’s the best I’ve got. I can’t give those girls anything less than that. If there’s any hope of finding them at all, Kearan will manage it.”
“He stares at me.”
“You’re lovely,” she says, as though it’s meant to be some sort of compliment.
“He tries to speak to me.”
“You’re a fine conversationalist.”
“He wantsme, Alosa.”
She taps her foot on the ground twice, but she doesn’t back down from my stare. “Yeah, probably.”
“Definitely,” I stress. “He cleaned himself up. He stopped drinking. He started exercising. He changed, Alosa.”
“Those are good things,” she points out.
“Not if he thinks those changes entitle him to me. I’m not some sort of reward for good behavior.”
At that, Alosa straightens. “Has he laid a finger on you?”
“No.”
“Has he made any suggestive or lewd comments?”
“No.”
“Do you have any reason to believe you’re in any sort of danger from him?”
I pause, giving the words serious thought. “No.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Then what’s the problem?”
I finally drop my carefully composed features. I never can seem to manage my stoicism long around her. “I’m not like you, Alosa. I’m not used to men looking at me and wanting me. I like to hide. I like to be unseen. I don’t want people thinking about me at all. But Kearan? He sees me. He always seems to find where I’m hiding.”
Knocking comes at the door, but Alosa doesn’t move to open it. “It’s been over a year since he quit drinking on our trip to the Isla de Canta. Now that he’s been sober so long, he’s really come into his own.”
I just stare at her.
She shrugs. “He’s actually funny and smart and trustworthy. Besides, he likely doesn’t even think about you anymore. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.”
I don’t even blink.
She sighs. “Have you ever considered that maybe it’s time for you to stop hiding?”
The knock comes again, and Alosa leaves me to ponder that while she answers the door.
Stophiding?Ludicrous. I’m an assassin. Hiding is what I do. It’s how I stay good at my job. I have to keep sharp if I’m to remain useful to Alosa.
She admits none other than Kearan into the room.
My walls go back up immediately.
When he sees me, he freezes, before a smile graces his lips. “You’re back.”
“Obviously,” I say.
He gives me a once-over, but there’s nothing heated in the gesture. It’s almost like he’s … looking for injuries. Either way, I look pointedly at Alosa. See?
“Kearan,” she says, succeeding in taking his gaze off me.
“You sent for me?” he asks, and I realize that must have been what Alosa whispered to Riden.
“I have a job for you. I’m assembling a crew led by Captain Sorinda Veshtas to find a missing ship, and I’d like you to be the sailing master for the voyage.”
There’s a pause in which I feel Kearan’s gaze shift to me briefly before resettling on Alosa. I don’t let a single muscle on my face twitch.
“If Captain Veshtas is amenable, I am happy to serve,” Kearan says.
Of course he’s happy to. I want to scowl, but I remain strong.
Alosa turns to me. “Are you amenable, Captain?”
I blink at her, let the silence fill the room until it grows to uncomfortable depths. Finally, I turn to Kearan. Stars, but he’s a big man. Wide enough for two men, tall enough to tower over everyone. His white skin bears a light tan from all the time in the sun, but he’s not handsome by any stretch of the word. Though he’s finally trimmed his hair and beard, his nose is large and has been broken too many times. His eyes are too far apart on his face.
It’s one of the few things I dolike about him: the fact that he’s not handsome. He looks real, like a man hardened by life on the sea, though I would never admit that to anyone. Not even Alosa.
He wears a black coat that’s now just a size too big for him with his weight loss. Muscle has replaced most of the fat, and what fat is left looks good on him. Again, it makes him look real. The coat has dozens of pockets sewn onto it, which used to hold all his flasks of rum.
Those are now floating around in the ocean somewhere, thanks to me.
He’s not much older than me. Before I left to take care of Vordan, Enwen put together a surprise party to celebrate Kearan’s twentieth birthday (which he hated). I had my eighteenth birthday just last week overseas, which was nice. There was no one aboard the ship who knew me well enough to make a fuss.
Kearan doesn’t look away from my stare, which is impressive. There are few men who dare to hold my gaze. I can respect that, even knowing what I do about him.
“If you can follow orders, I have no problem with you joining the crew.” If I can pretend like he doesn’t get to me, then eventually he’ll grow bored and move on. It works on bullies, so why not enthusiastic men?
Kearan nods once. He asks, “What direction are we headed?”
“Northeast of the Seventeen Isles,” Alosa says. She reaches into one of the long drawers of her desk and withdraws a map. She unrolls it and points to the new markings that must indicate the missing ship’s course before it disappeared. “The Wanderer was meant to look for land in uncharted waters. Last I heard, she was here.” Alosa points to where the trail ends.
Kearan’s back goes ramrod straight.
“What is it?” Alosa asks him.
“I’ve sailed that way before.”
Alosa points to the chair I vacated at Kearan’s entrance. “Tell me everything.”
I take position in a corner of the room. Near the door, I’ll be able to hear if anyone tries to listen in, and I like to be the closest to the escape route. Habit of my youth.
“They called it a panaceum,” Kearan begins. “That’s what we were hired to search for. Didn’t matter if we found it or not; our employer promised us a fortune to sail that way and dig up what we could.”
“Your employer, who were they?” Alosa asks.
“Some rich heir who dreamed of fame. Said he came from a line of explorers, but he intended to be the one to actually find the panaceum.”
“Which is?”
“Utter rubbish if you ask me. The git said it was a mystical object that could heal any injury or sickness, no matter how fatal. It’s supposed to grant whoever possesses it immortality and immunity from death. Meaning you can’t kill ’em with a blade or anything.”
“I get the idea,” Alosa says.
“So we sailed northeast to search for this thing. Didn’t find anything but trouble. As the weather grew colder the farther we went, the sea started bubbling randomly. People would disappear from the ship in the middle of the night. Just vanish without a trace. All their belongings still aboard. Lifeboats still attached to the ship. It was strange.”
“What ended up happening?”
“Crew turned against our financial benefactor after the eighth person went missing. We flipped the ship around and didn’t look back.”
Alosa rubs at her forehead. “This all would have been helpful to know before I let half a dozen girls join the ranks of the land king’s vessel.”
“Had I known, I would have spoken up.”
“I know. It’s no one’s fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that those girls are missing.” Alosa looks to me.
“I said I’d look for them, and I meant it. I’m not afraid of Kearan’s ghost stories.”
“They’re not stories. This really happened,” Kearan insists.
“How drunk were you during this voyage?” My tone doesn’t change, but the words do their job.
He turns to me, his eyes hardening. “This was before I took to the bottle.”
Hmm. I assumed he came out of the womb with a bottle in his hand.
Alosa says, “I don’t leave anyone for dead. If there’s a chance they’re still alive, then I’m going to use all the resources I have to locate them. I’ll want weekly updates, Captain, on the well-being of you and the crew. Anything weird starts to happen, you let me know immediately.”
It’s still so strange to be called Captain. Alosa promoted me shortly after we dethroned her father, yet I never wanted my own ship or women to command. I haven’t bothered to hire a crew for my vessel, and I haven’t even laid eyes on the ship Alosa gifted me.
“Who will be sailing with me?” I ask. “Wallov?”
“No. Where Wallov goes, Roslyn follows. This is no voyage for her.”
I couldn’t agree more. The lass isn’t even eight yet.
“You’ll have a few familiar faces. Radita will serve as boatswain. Philoria and Bayla as gunwomen. Mostly, there will be many new women that you have yet to meet. Don’t worry. I won’t be sending anyone with you that I don’t trust. You’ll have a good crew.”
“Who’s to serve as first mate?”
“Her name is Dimella. You’ll like her, I promise.”
We’ll see about that. I don’t like very many people. “When do we sail?”
“As soon as the ship can be made ready. I’ve been having it stocked since I anticipated your return soon.”
“So sure I would say yes?” I ask with a smile.
“Not sure. Just hopeful. Thank you, Sorinda. I mean it. I really wish I could go with you.”
Realizing that Alosa needs some assurances of her own, I say, “Put it from your mind, Captain. I’ve got this. I will find them.”
She nods. “I know you will.” Then, as though remembering something, she reaches under the desk and pulls out a long, thin box. “Almost forgot. I have something for you.”
I step up to it slowly, doing my best to keep as much distance as possible from Kearan with him still sitting right in front of the desk.
“Go on. Open it,” Alosa encourages.
I find the latch at the front and pull on the lid.
What rests inside takes my breath away.
It’s a rapier. Long and slender, sharp as death. The knuckle guard shimmers, as though some sort of crushed gems were mixed in with the molten iron. The inner guards over the base of the blade have been shaped to look like ocean waves. When I reach for the grip, my hands brush leather so soft it could be mistaken for velvet. It’s impossibly light when I lift the sword. It blurs through the air when I test it out, moving as though it truly were an extension of my arm.
“You didn’t think I’d forgotten your birthday, now, did you?” Alosa asks.
I can’t find my voice right away. “Thank you.”
“Only the best for you.”
“It’s your birthday?” Kearan asks.
Alosa’s gaze snaps to him. “You’re dismissed, Kearan. Ready yourself for the voyage.”
He towers over the room when he stands. “Aye-aye.”
Alosa and I watch his back until he shuts the door behind himself.
She says, “Now, if I might be so bold as to offer you a bit of advice before you go to meet your crew?”
“Of course,” I say, still admiring my new weapon.
“I have no doubt that you will make a good captain, Sorinda, but try to remember that the crew will be looking to you always. Don’t be so quiet with them. Don’t hide all the time. Your presence will reassure them when times are hard. Your words of encouragement will embolden them. Remember how important it is for you to be seen and heard.”
I shift my gaze to Alosa. “I’m going to make a terrible captain.”
Alosa shakes her head. “We can do impossible things when others depend on us. You will make mistakes. There’s no getting around that. But you forgive yourself and do better next time. I’m certain that when it matters most, you will rise to the occasion.”
“You never made mistakes as a captain.”
Alosa laughs. “Sailing in my father’s fleet wasn’t a mistake? Or how about the time I put my entire crew in danger by rescuing my mother? Or what about when Lotiya died because I insisted we stop on an unknown island for a new mast? Or what about when I got Deros killed because I didn’t answer my father’s questions quickly enough?”
I say nothing in response.
“Guilt is healthy when it makes us do better, but don’t let it consume you.”
Chapter 3
MY NEW RAPIER FEELS incredible against my side, the knuckle guard shimmering in the sunlight as I walk. I adjust my belt slightly so the sun doesn’t catch it. Last thing I need is my enemies to see me coming.
A boy who must still be in his younger teen years rows me out to my ship. He doesn’t say a word the whole trip, which I love. I tip him generously when we arrive, and he returns to shore, waiting to row out the next person. Eventually, I know Alosa means to have docks extending out from the island so ships can anchor closer. But for now, we do what we must.
When Alosa gifted me the brigantine and asked what I wanted to call her, I told her Vengeance more as a joke than anything else, referring to a conversation from a while back.
“The three of you make quite a set,” Alosa said while Mandsy, Niridia, and I all sat around a campfire on Queen’s Keep, resting after a hard day’s work helping with construction and organizing our men and women.
“Because we’re pretty?” Mandsy asked.
“Nah,” Niridia said. “It’s because we’re her favorite people.”
I said nothing.
“You’re both correct,” Alosa said, joining us around the fire. She grabbed a stick and poked at the flames, which were just as bright as her hair. More seriously, she added, “You’re my inner circle, you know that, right? You’re what I need to keep everything we’ve built. This pirate empire will continue to succeed only because I have you three to rely on.”
“Aww, thanks, Captain,” Mandsy said.
“You’re going to make me blush,” Niridia said.
True to form, I said nothing.
“I mean it,” Alosa said. “Now, don’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”
Niridia gestured to her arm, which was still in a sling. “I could argue that this was your fault.”
Alosa winced, and I wanted to smack Niridia for the comment.
“It’s a joke, Alosa,” Niridia amended. “The pirate king is gone. We can put everything he did behind us.”
But Niridia was still suffering from the two gunshot wounds she’d received during our race against the king to reach the siren treasure. Her injuries were hard to forget when her bandages were in plain sight, for all to see.
Alosa stared at the flames. “We’re going to make this empire better than he ever could.”
“Because you’re in charge,” Mandsy said. “And you’re better than he was.”
“No, it’ll be because it’s built on the backs of hardworking, good women. Pirates who hold honor and strength above all else.”
“And gold,” Niridia whispered.
Alosa shook her head. “With you three setting an example for the rest, I know everything will work out. You are the best parts of me.”
“I don’t ever remember hearing you be so sappy, Captain,” Mandsy said.
“I mean it. You are the best parts of me. Mandsy, you are my mercy.”
As a healer and pirate, Mandsy deals help and death efficiently. Mercy is the perfect word for her.
“Niridia,” Alosa continued, “you are my justice.”
Niridia is more fair and levelheaded than anyone else I know. I thought Alosa’s words an apt description. Then she turned her gaze on me.
“And you, Sorinda. You are my vengeance.”
A hush fell over our group.
“Never forget this,” Alosa said. “Never forget how precious you three are to me.”
As I stare at the side of the brigantine while climbing the rope ladder, I realize that Alosa took my suggestion for ship name to heart. In bold black letters, someone has painted Vengeance on the side of my ship. I suppose I’m stuck with it now, not that it’s a bad name.
I set one foot on the deck, take a look around at all the unfamiliar faces loading food, supplies, and personal effects, and feel a jolt of uneasiness.
I know how to sail. I know the jobs of every sailor on a ship. I know what needs to happen for things to run smoothly and efficiently. I’ve just never been the one in charge before. Alosa said I’d earned it, but it wasn’t exactly something I ever wanted: captaining my own ship. Yet I’ve accepted this responsibility, and I intend to see it through to the very end.
Then I will resume duties as assassin and never captain a crew again.
In the meantime …
I start for the girl barking out orders to the pirates shuffling about.
“Get those barrels stored below quickly. In the back of the hold, please. We won’t need them right away. And, you there! You’re not on vacation. You can have one trunk of personal effects and one alone.”
“Dimella?” I ask when I reach her.
“You must be Captain Sorinda. Nice to meet you.”
She’s a tiny thing at barely five feet, but her voice is so loud, you’d think she was twice that height. With strawberry-blond curls pulled into a band at the nape of her neck and deep brown eyes, she looks positively youthful.
“Before you can ask, I’m twenty-one years old. I can assure you I’m more than capable of serving as your second on this voyage, Captain.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“That’d be a first for me. Everyone takes one look at me and assumes I’m sixteen. Not my fault my da was a wee man. Oi, you there!”
She points to a man wearing an enormous hat. I have to do a double take once I recognize him.
“Enwen?” I ask.
“Miss Sorinda!” he says excitedly. “Wait, that’s not right anymore. Captain! I was excited to hear you were in charge of this voyage!”
Warily, I ask, “Why?”
