On These Black Sands, page 14
It was during that studying that he’d learned about the dagger. The dagger was all but lost to myth and legend. No one spoke of it anymore, except perhaps in children’s tales. But in an old text, which he still kept in his quarters, he and his father had read about the rise and fall of the King of Tyshaly.
It was this knowledge that had sent them on this quest, and while he didn’t owe it to his father to find it, he did hope finding the dagger would be the way to earn his freedom from the pirate lords, to finally gain victory over their larger ships and crews, to be able to—after enough wealth was acquired and enough loot was taken—set up a home where he could rest and read and forget all about the pain of the past.
Ah, to rest. So much standing in his way before he could do that.
Not the least of which was his sister’s need for the dagger first.
He needed a plan, but so far he—with the help of Tommy, his master gunner, and Gavin—had not yet devised the best way to get into the council hall and retrieve the fae sisters. He needed intel. He needed an in. And his in was currently in his quarters, likely now sick from all the food she’d been engulfing. Never mind that he wasn’t helping the situation by denying her the freedom to leave the cabin for some fresh air. He might need to ease up on that, but he couldn’t trust her to not do something stupid, cross the wrong man, slip and fall overboard. Who knew what trouble she was capable of getting into?
A throat cleared behind him, and he turned. Tommy’s brows were raised, eyes aglow with his usual brand of curiosity and humor.
“What is it?” Declan asked. He probably should have hired someone other than his childhood friend to be his quartermaster, and he often wondered if the crew distrusted Tommy because the two were so close. But it had never seemed an issue. Not to say it couldn’t quickly become one. Especially if this job went sour.
“You know, I think Mikkel half expected you to stick a dagger in him.”
“I think he would have actually preferred it,” Declan said, releasing a sigh. He did try to keep his exasperation and doubt from showing when he was out in the open, visible to his whole crew, who could always be looking for a reason, a weakness, to exploit and overthrow him as captain.
“What man wants to be gutted though?” Tommy gave a shrug and then scratched at his forehead. “Plus, we’re already short crew. Losing a bo’sun wouldn’t help us.”
“And if I lose the entire crew to mutiny? What then?”
Tommy scoffed. “That’s unlikely. For now.”
Declan straightened at the words. “What do you mean, ‘for now’?”
“I’m only saying I don’t know if the crew can survive many more run-ins with the lords. They need some victories, Captain. And they need them soon. Or they very well may look for a captain who can deliver—either on this ship or another that would have them.”
Declan ran a hand through his hair and breathed the sea air deep into his lungs, as if the brine could preserve his place as captain, preserve the honor and respect he’d worked so hard to earn. If only it were that easy. But he knew Tommy was right. They needed a victory. They needed information.
As if Tommy could read his mind, he spoke again, leaning close and keeping his voice down. “Like I said last night, we need the girl, Declan. And what she knows. No one else here has stepped a foot inside that hall, and we can’t risk everything on rumors heard and passed on by drunken men.”
“Aye. I know. Don’t like it, but you’re right.” He pushed himself away from the railing and started down the stairs. “Gavin, keep us on track.”
“And where are you going?” Tommy asked.
“To find out what she knows.”
“Good luck!” Tommy called, and Declan bit back a swear. Luck had nothing to do with it. He was going to need more than luck to get her to cooperate.
17
Cait
Cait moved the rag across the bar, wiping up the last of the spills from the previous night’s patrons. Even after so many years spent running this place, taking up where her mother had left off, somehow she still loved it. Sure, the patrons could smell better, could act more like gentlemen instead of the pirates they were, but all in all, she was content. Happy.
Until she remembered where her pub was located and the heavy hand that wielded its power over this port and all the villages and people on the island.
She settled against the bar, hips digging into the old wood, shoulders caving under the pressure, hand gripping the towel as if it were a lifeline to her sanity or a dream she’d had long ago as a child and feared would fade the older she got. Declan had left the night before, and no doubt he’d noticed the poorly disguised woman who had trailed after him. Cait didn’t need to worry about her brother. He had a good head on his shoulders. He could handle one silly woman. How she’d thought a set of clothes and a poor haircut would work… Cait shook her head at the image in her mind.
Declan could manage, for sure, but would the woman delay him on this job? She couldn’t. He needed the dagger as much as the Rogues did. Though, there was a small part of her that wondered if he truly intended to bring it back to her or if he’d take it and run, use it to conquer the lords.
She couldn’t worry about that. No point in worrying about stuff she couldn’t change.
Declan was their only option, the only one who still believed in the legend of the dagger enough to have already been hunting it down. In reality she hadn’t even been sure he, in fact, was searching for it. When a couple drunkards had come into the pub yammering on about a young captain chasing after legends and stories and enchantments, she’d guessed that young captain was her brother.
She’d guessed and been right. Or lucky. Would the luck continue?
There was still so much to do, so much to plan for. So much that could go wrong.
The door banged open, and Cait turned toward it, calling out, “We don’t open for another few hours.”
Two men stepped in, dragging in muck and filth from the streets and dirtying the floors she’d mopped up that morning. She forced herself to hide her anger over such disrespect. If they were any other patrons she would have put them in their place, but something about these two stayed her tongue. She eyed them, managing to keep her expression as neutral as possible. The years of practice dealing with the men the council sent to her door had paid off. But it had been a while since they’d sent anyone so overtly to her.
They’d undoubtedly been sent by the council, though, as her regulars all knew her hours and respected them. The men stood at about the same height, equally dirty and scruffy. The way one stood ahead of the other indicated some form of rank. Or perhaps one is merely shy. The green sashes around their middles and their necks marked them as members of Donovan’s crew on the Harbinger. Not a good lot. As if any pirates were good, though some were notably better than others.
The one in front lifted his chin and spoke. “You should consider keeping your doors locked, then, miss.”
“Thank you for the reminder. I must have forgotten to lock it again after I was done sweeping all the dirt and grime out from last night’s customers.”
She couldn’t prevent her eyes from narrowing ever so slightly, wondering if they were smart enough to take the hint that she was not pleased by the mess they were making on her clean floors. They didn’t budge or speak again, only stared down at her. “How can I help you, gentlemen? I can’t pour you a drink outside business hours—council rules and all—but if you need help finding the nearest inn or a nice shop to purchase something for the ladies in your lives, I’m happy to oblige.”
The second man didn’t move a muscle, not even a hint of a smile or a twinkle in his eye to indicate he’d heard her. It was the closer one who spoke again. “Funny you should mention the council. We are here on their business.”
Of course you are. Her bitterness rolled around in her mind, but she somehow managed to keep it hidden.
“Oh? You two strapping lads selected by the council. Whatev—”
The man interrupted. “Stop. Now.” Cait closed her mouth gently, being careful not to snap it closed. It was dangerous to play up the innocent pub owner act for too long.
“What do you need?” All sweetness had vanished from her tone. “I’m busy, and I have to get the pub ready to open this afternoon. And at some point I’d like to grab some food. It’s only me here running this place.”
“We’re looking for someone.”
“Oh?”
“A girl. Older girl.” An image of the disguised girl immediately popped into Cait’s mind.
“We don’t get many girls in here. I think I’d remember seeing one.”
“She might have been dressed as a man.”
And poorly. Poor girl.
Cait pretended to ponder their words, lifting a hand to her chin. She could have been an actress had her parents… She cut the thought off. “May I ask what she’s done? Last I knew, women, even girls, were allowed to do as they pleased on Cregah. Has she done something wrong? Is she in trouble?”
“That’s none of your concern, miss.”
“Ah, but it is, you see? If there’s a dangerous fugitive on the loose, someone who has broken our sacred rules of peace, I need to know! I need to be able to keep my promise to my patrons that they won’t have trouble in my pub, that they can rest and drink in peace without worrying about some young maiden stabbing them in the back while they sit unawares.” She’d gone too far with that, perhaps, but her patience was wearing thin, and she feared she’d lose any ability to hide her disdain and contempt if they stayed much longer.
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” The man behind him remained silent, a statue, his stare boring a hole into her. “Nothing like that, miss. The council merely needs to speak with her.”
“Of course. Anything to help the council. You know that.” The silent one’s eyes twitched at her words, as if he could perceive the mockery and attitude beneath them. She ignored it, though, and continued. “I don’t recall anyone in here last night that might have been a girl posing as a man. And unfortunately all the crews who were here last night set sail this morning, I believe. Otherwise I would have recommended you seek them out.”
“And which ships were those exactly?”
“Oh,” she said, hemming and hawing as if she needed the extra time to recall their names. “The Curse Bringer and the New Moon…and I think there was another. Song-something, or something-song.” At those words, the men looked at each other. As she’d expected. Her brother’s ship always got reactions like that.
“The Siren’s Song?” the second man broke his silence to ask.
“Ah, yes, that’s the one! A peculiar name for a ship if you ask me. I always thought pirates and sailors were a superstitious lot, and I don’t know anyone who would trust a siren, especially a singing one.” She wanted to laugh at their reactions. Though they did a fairly decent job of hiding their unease, she had seen it often enough in the faces of her customers to recognize it plain as day now.
“The crew from the Siren’s Song was here?” the first man said.
“Yes. But only briefly. They didn’t even finish all their drinks. All that booze. Wasted. But at least they paid handsomely, so I suppose not all was a waste. Nice gentlemen though. Not like the others I get in here. I mean, not that they aren’t all nice, but some are more grumbly than others. You know? That lot, though, was quite agreeable and pleasant, if I do say so myself.” Cait prattled on, and she hoped they’d stop her soon, because she was growing weary from chattering like an idiot.
“But no girl, miss? You didn’t see anyone you didn’t recognize?”
She pretended to think again, looking up to the rafters as if the answer could be there. “No. I mean, I didn’t recognize the Siren’s Song crew, at first, as they don’t come to Cregah much at all, but none of them looked girlish. I mean, the stubble and the deep voices would be rather difficult for a girl to fake, I’d think. Not that I’ve ever tried to pretend to be a man, so maybe it’s not all that hard.” She was tempted to attempt this, lowering her tone to say something a man might, but before she could continue, the pirate before her interrupted, his annoyance becoming more and more obvious.
“Thank you for your time, miss.” They both seemed rather eager to get away from her and her blathering. “If you do see someone suspicious, or hear of anything from the other residents—”
“The council will be first to hear about it. You can be sure of that.” Cait had always hated lying as a kid, and she regretted now that it had become a daily necessity for her, but that wasn’t her fault. The council had pushed her to set aside any morals when she’d learned what they were capable of. What they did. And now she’d grown good at deception. She quietly—and only briefly—mourned the loss of her innocence and her honor.
No, she had honor still. It was these men here and the women they served who lacked it. She ground her teeth together, hoping they couldn’t see the tension in her jaw or the tightness in her eyes. She needed them to leave before she said something wrong or let the facade slip.
“Now, if you please, gentlemen, I really must get back to work.” Giving them as sweet a smile as she could, she lifted her eyes to the door behind them.
“Of course. Sorry to have bothered you, miss.” They both turned, and Cait nearly laughed at how quickly they made their escape, as if worried she might bombard them with a flood of words again if they lingered.
Through the windows she watched them walk away, shaking their heads at each other. Yes, she could have been an actress.
But she had little time to congratulate herself on a stellar performance, because the truth remained. That girl hadn’t been just any girl. Whether the girl was a threat to Declan’s mission—and the Rogues getting what they needed—or not, she was indeed in danger. There was no doubt of that fact, if the council was hunting for her.
Cait reached below the bar and pulled up a glass and a brown bottle. Filling it to the brim, she lifted it up, giving a toast to the empty room. “Here’s hoping you’re okay, silly girl. Wherever you are.”
She downed the liquid, savoring the burn as it glided down her throat and settled into her belly. She hoped the girl had ended up with Declan. Plans or no, his ship was likely the only one she’d be safe on, and Cait didn’t need to know the lass to wish for her safety, even if her presence on his ship put their mission at risk.
18
Aoife
Possible danger aside, Aoife could not wait to get to Foxhaven, if only to get a break from this blasted rocking and what it was doing to her insides.
She had at least managed to make it back to the bed to lie down, but that offered little help beyond keeping her from falling over as she tried to walk. She had thought maybe sleep would do her some good. After all, she’d slept perfectly fine the night before. But every time she tried to close her eyes, her stomach rolled and churned like the waves outside.
This was going to be the longest two-day voyage of her life. The only voyage of her life actually, but still. She’d often daydreamed back at the council hall—during classes or the pirate dinners—about how exciting and fun life on the seas must be for the men who chose that path. And now she knew better. There was nothing fun about all this.
Nothing fun at all about what was going on back home either. Or what had happened to Lani.
Aoife wondered who had been tasked with “dealing with her.” Of killing her. She’d known the council regularly called on the services of pirates, but she’d always thought it was to ensure safety in the villages and towns, confiscating contraband weapons found on the island or something. But knowing now what her mother and the other councilwomen had been doing, she had to assume they’d use pirates for the messy work of execution. Who else was there to do it? If a pirate was caught in the act of carrying out the orders, the council could simply exile them, deny them safe harbor, keeping themselves in the clear from public suspicion.
That very thing had happened a handful of times in Aoife’s life. She’d watched her mother sentence pirates and their men to exile. Aoife had never paid much attention to those men who had been caught. They were lesser pirates, none of them a possible match for her, and so she’d had little need to spend energy on remembering their names. But now, after having asked a pirate for safe passage on his ship, having seen and experienced them acting far more civil than she’d imagined, she wished she had seen them as worthy of her time. At least worthy of her memory.
And yet, she couldn’t keep the bitterness from burning in her chest, at the knowledge that these men willingly killed her people. Perhaps they didn’t like doing it, but how could they not? They were pirates! And as Declan had said, there was always a choice. They could have just as well stayed away from Cregah to avoid having to do such things for the council. Couldn’t they? The only ones required to stop in were the lords, per the treaty, but she couldn’t fathom the council putting those men at risk of being caught and needing to be exiled, as then they’d lose their ability to secure heirs.
Aoife tried to close her eyes again, but the sound of the door opening and boots walking across the cabin had her opening them again quickly. She considered sitting up, but the thought of moving even an inch turned her stomach. She stared at the wooden beams above her head, tracing the swirls and grooves as the footsteps drew nearer.
“Told you not to eat so fast.” The voice came from the doorframe beyond her feet. She tilted her chin down to look at him, careful not to move too much. He stood against the frame, relaxed and casual, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. She expected to see the usual twist in his lips as he mocked her, but instead his face looked almost bored, though there was a hint of stress or worry playing behind the mask he wore so handsomely.
