Chapter 17
Riley, Thomas, and Aaliyah approached the sloop with a bloodied white tunic stuck on an oar as a sign of truce.
"Aye, that's close enough. Who goes there?" a gruff voice called down.
Riley's voice was a steady blade, clean and sharp. "I'm Riley of the Abyss crew. I've come to broker a deal."
They climbed up the side of the ship carefully to present no threat. A small group of meek men waited at the front armed with an array of makeshift weapons. Thomas' shoulder complained under the weight, but he did his best not to wince.
"Front of the boat!" the gruff man ordered. Its owner stepped forward, a broad man with a tangled beard and a face mapped with old scars, his mouth a ruin of missing teeth.
Thomas's gaze swept the stern. Eight. Maybe nine. They clung to the shadows, a collection of nervous energy and sharp angles. The tension in his own shoulders eased a fraction. They were desperate, not dangerous. Not like the ones they'd left on the beach.
"Pretty brave to try to make deals with Hunters, strangers," the gruff man stated arrogantly. "Steal a boat and slink off before the others found you?"
Riley didn't play into his goading, "They found us, and they fought bravely. Now they are dead."
The man laughed heartily, "Bullshit! Two women and a boy?"
The rest of the crew chuckled until Riley held out her hand donned in new rings of their former bosses. The air on the deck went solid.
The gruff man's hand flew to the hilt of his sword. A collective creak of leather and shuffle of feet echoed as the other men adjusted their grips on their weapons.
Thomas readied his dagger. Even though he was scared, he saw the other men clenching their weapons a little too tight. There was a reason that they stayed behind and their cowardice was evident.
Riley's voice sliced through the panic, calm and absolute. "Steady your hands. I said we were here to make a deal. If we fight, you will die tonight." She let the promise hang in the air for a heartbeat. "Or, you could crew this ship away from here. To safety. To comfort, under my lead. My captain will reward you handsomely."
"Oh f**k off! I will not sail under some WOMAN!" the gruff man spewed in anger and fear. The other men looked around, some working for better positions but not truly wanting to fight. Thomas picked out the biggest one and aimed his dagger, his shoulder aching.
The gruff man's sword scraped free of its scabbard. The sound was harsh, final. He took a step, his scowl fixed on Riley, on her unwavering calm.
A blur of movement. A soft shush of cloth.
A thin blade suddenly pressed against the leader's throat, its silver gleam a stark line against his grimy skin. A meek, yet firm, voice came from behind him. "This man does not speak for us."
The speaker was a younger man, all sharp angles and nervous eyes, but his hand was remarkably steady. "We don't want a fight. We would like to accept your deal."
A beat of silence. Then, one by one, the makeshift weapons clattered to the deck. A thump of wood. A clang of metal. The sound of surrender.
Riley smiled victoriously, she had won without a fight.
"You damn rats! Cowards, the whole lot of you!" the deposed leader screamed, his voice cracking. He threw his sword down; it skittered across the planks.
Thomas finally remembered to breathe, a deep, ragged inhale that made his injured shoulder burn. He turned to Aaliyah, and the look they shared was pure, unspoken relief. They would shed no more blood tonight.
*
Once again, Nadine found herself scaling the brothel wall. Pushing through a window, she fell ungracefully into the Captain's room.
In the moonlit darkness, a figure erupted from the bed. Korlai was a phantom of coiled muscle and swift motion. The cold, sharp point of his cutlass settled against her ribs, a deadly punctuation to her clumsy entrance.
"What is this?" Captain snapped groggily.
Nadine didn't flinch. She held her hands wide, a gesture of peace. "Please. Listen. I'm a friend of Thomas."
"Middlenight?" Captain retorted.
Nadine's sharp eyes caught the Captain's. "Goldhair. Keep your voice down. I know he is with the princess."
Captain let out a small gasp. This was deadly information; how could it be out so quickly? "Who the hell are you and how do you know so much!"
"The canary next door sang very loudly," Nadine said, sitting up and lowering her hood.
Korlai's posture relaxed a fraction. A soft, exasperated sound escaped him. "F**king Trudy."
"They're already on their way," Nadine stated, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "The entrance is blocked. If you do not leave tonight, you won't leave at all."
Nadine jumped down from the window into the waiting arms of Korlai. The Captain concerned "Where will you go? Do you need to come with us?"
Nadine shook her head no confidently, "This is where I do my best work, now go." She flipped up her hood, exiting the garden and disappearing into a nearby alley.
Korlai and Captain snuck in the opposite direction towards the harbor.
*
The harbor was a maze of shadows and muted lantern light. The Abyss sat at her berth, looking deceptively peaceful. Four guards stood at the boarding ramps, their postures slack with boredom. On deck, a few more were visible, their attention elsewhere. Frank was a dark shape near the galley chimney, poking at the dying embers within.
Captain ran down the decks straight for the ship, "Help me! Help!"
The four guards approached her with concern.
"Please! There's a man after me!" she cried in feigned fear.
Korlai walked menacingly down the wooden deck with two cutlasses drawn.
"Behind us, miss!" one guard shouted, turning his back to her.
It was the opening she needed. In one smooth motion, Captain drew a sharpened dagger from her sleeve. As Korlai closed the final few meters, she plunged the blade into the nearest guard's neck. A wet, gurgling hck was his only protest.
One swung at Korlai. The mercenary deflected the overhead strike with one blade while the other cut a swift, fatal arc across the attacker's throat. Captain wrestled with her target, the man struggling wildly. Another guard reared back to strike her down, but his blow never landed. Korlai's cutlass erupted from the man's chest from behind. Captain's opponent joined his comrades in the dark water below with a heavy splash.
From a distance, the torches on the Abyss's deck were abruptly doused, plunging the ship into total darkness.
Captain boarded to a hearty grin from Frank, Finneas, and several crew members. "I wondered when you would be back Captain," Frank heartily jested.
"Full Sails gentleman, let's get the hell out of this shit hole", Captain announced.
As the boarding planks were hauled in, a unit of a dozen more guards marched into view. One spotted the Abyss already pulling away. "Hey! Wait, no. Stop!" Their sprint was futile; the ship was already slipping away.
The Abyss drove hard for the open sea, but the larger Galleons in the harbor began to stir. Bells clanged clang-clang-clang in a feverish alarm from the shore. Torches flared to life on the decks of the pursuing ships.
"Captain, we're within their range!" Finneas called out, his voice tight.
"Keep it tight to the coast! Use the city as cover!" she ordered.
"Light discipline, Abyss crew! Full dark!" Finneas shouted the commands.
The Goldhair Brig joined the chase, its sleek form cutting through the water with alarming speed. A grapple clanged against the Abyss's railing before being shaken loose. "Finneas, I said hug the coast!" Captain accosted.
He hesitated, "The coast is sharp Captain, this is safest!"
Another grapple whizzed past her head. "Finneas!"
The ship heeled over, turning sharply toward the peninsula's jagged outline. The pursuing brig altered course to follow, but it was a mistake for them. A final, hopeless cannon volley boomed far behind them, the shots plopping harmlessly into their wake as the brig broke off, returning to the safety of the bay.
The Abyss was too elusive to pursue, even on a moonlight night. They had successfully evaded a premature capture thanks to support from Thomas' courtesan partner. This celebration was short-lived however.
"Carry on Northward. Finneas, to the navigation room. Now," Captain demanded.
*
The maps were spread across the table, a parchment prison of bad options. Sandia to the west. Hinickia to the east.
Their only hope was that Riley and Thomas had successfully stayed undiscovered. After murdering several guards to retrieve their stolen ship, their own reprieve would come from a princess-sized deal. Without her, they would be endlessly hunted with bounties that could turn even the most loyal crews.
"So it all comes down to the kid," Finneas sighed, unsettled by their options.
Captain's expression was unreadable, but her voice held a thread of steel. "Riley knows the system well. They will be there, laying in wait for us. Trust them, Finn." She left him there, surrounded by maps and doubt, and retreated to the sanctuary of her quarters.
Outside her door, leaning against a supporting beam as if he owned the shadow he stood in, was Korlai. The moonlight through a porthole caught the sharp line of his jaw.
"You spying on us, merc?" she jested, the words lacking their usual bite.
He offered a slow, easy smile that seemed to suggest a dozen different private jokes. "Nah. Just need a spot for tonight, given my new found freedom." His eyes, glinting with audacity, traveled over her. "That is, unless your room has a tub?"
His boldness intrigued her, not that she would ever show it. "I'll throw you back in the dungeon if you ever outwardly suggest that again." He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender that felt anything but. The smile never left his face.
Captain would not acknowledge him, could not acknowledge him. She turned to hide the growing smirk on her face. She knew better to trust a handsome for-hire mercenary and yet the heat between her thighs made her question the threat of his playful eyes. The danger, it seemed, was already aboard.
Chapter 18
The air in the Goldhair warehouse was thick with the smell of damp wood and spoiled grain. Loric Goldhair's back was to the room, his broad shoulders a wall of contained fury as he stared out a grimy window at the sleeping harbor. He refused to look at his son. The silence was a heavier condemnation than any shout.
His voice, when it came, was low, a blade scraped over stone. "You let the rat get away with the gem. You let the crew that smuggled him leave the harbor unscathed." He finally turned, and his eyes were chips of flint. "And now you're working with whores? This shame cannot persist."
Jack, usually a peacock of swagger and loud confidence, seemed to shrink. His posture was that of a scolded boy. "I understand, father. Please. Let me do this my way. I will come back with a fortune and an alliance that will solidify our family for a generation." He drew a steadying breath, his chin lifting a fraction. "I will also rid Starlight of that impostor you once called son."
"You will right this, Jack." Loric closed the distance between them in three slow, deliberate steps. The floorboards creaked under his weight. He grabbed his son's face in both hands, his grip firm enough to make Jack's eyes water. "And when you find the impostor, make sure he stays missing. Your mother doesn't deserve to grieve for her monstrosity." The words were cruel, exact. He leaned forward and pressed a hard, impersonal kiss to Jack's forehead. "I love you, boy. But do not let anything tarnish our reputation. Including yourself."
*
The heavy warehouse door screeched open on rusty hinges, flooding the space with a sliver of dull morning light. Jack strode in, his previous meekness shed like a coat.
"WEASEL!" he exclaimed, his voice a booming, false cheer that echoed in the vast, empty space.
Trudy flinched at the nickname. Jack pulled him into a hug that was all bone-crushing force and no warmth, a performance of camaraderie meant to intimidate. "You are the man with all the information! And we have a rat to catch!"
Across the room, Lexi preened, soaking up the attention. Beside her, Silvia stood ramrod straight, her nose slightly wrinkled as if she'd smelled something foul. The grim, dusty warehouse was beneath her, and she made no effort to hide it.
Jack jostled Trudy with a forced, jovial voice. "Lexi, dear, told me all about your… escapades." He winked, a grotesque parody of conspiracy. "Don't worry, I'm not upset. If you can deliver, I will make all your wildest dreams come true." He let out a short, sharp snort. "Or, well, I guess Lexi will."
Trudy managed a shaky smile, his guard lowering a fraction.
In an instant, Jack's joviality vanished. His face went still, his eyes flat. "I don't think I have to explain what will happen if you fail, though. Right?"
"No," Trudy quickly replied.
"Yes? Okay, yes." Jack dismissed the answer entirely, his attention already elsewhere. "I'll show you, then." He snapped his fingers.
A harsh scrape of wood on stone echoed through the warehouse. Two of Jack's men dragged a n***d man strapped to a heavy chair into the center of the room. A burlap sack was tied over his head.
"They say no ship can have two captains…" Jack mused, circling the chair like a shark. "THIS captain failed to land a single shot on a prize that was worth wayyyyy more than his life." He stopped, his gaze landing on Trudy. "Now I want his boat. What do you think should happen, Trudy?"
Trudy stammered but didn't answer fast enough. Jack continued on, "Lexi, what do you think?"
She didn't hesitate. A dark, seductive little grin curled her lips. "Make him bleed, darlin'. Take his boat. And his life."
He grabbed a heavy hammer from a nearby workbench. The iron head thunked dully against his palm. He gave a firm, almost cheerful nod to his men and approached the tied man. Lexi let out a small, eager squeal. The Gifted Heart soon had a new captain.
*
"Captain, we have a lone sloop off the coast of the isles," Finneas reported.
Captain stepped outside to see a flagless sloop headed straight for them. Such a brazen approach wouldn't be expected of an attacker and soon a spotter called down, "White flag!"
With boards laid out, Riley, Thomas and Aaliyah joined Captain on the Silent Tide.
"Am I glad to see you all," Riley grinned, her smile wide and bright as she approached Captain.
The Captain's gaze swept past her first mate, over the rail to the sloop's deck. A dozen hard-eyed men lingered there, their hands resting near their weapons. Hunters. They watched the reunion with a palpable wariness. Riley hadn't just saved the princess. She'd recruited her own private army. And she'd commanded them. Uncontested.
A cold stone settled in the pit of Captain's stomach. She did not smile back.
"Riley. I need to see you in my quarters." Her voice was flat, devoid of the relief the moment should have held. She turned to Finneas, her order slicing through the sea air. "Inspect them. Thoroughly."
The door to her cabin clicked shut, sealing them in the quiet, wood-paneled room. The ship's gentle sway was the only movement. Captain turned, and the coldness she'd worn on deck solidified into something harder, sharper.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Riley's confident smile faltered, wiped away by the sheer ice in Captain's tone. She blinked, thrown. "We were discovered. This was our way out. The only way."
"You brought a ship full of armed men back to my crew," Captain hissed, the words low and precise. Each one was a carefully aimed dart. "Men whose loyalty you bought, who answer to you." She took a single step forward. The space between them crackled. "And what would have happened had we been held at Brinemarch? You fancy yourself a captain then? Run away with the prize and keep it for yourself?"
The accusation hung in the air, ugly and final. Riley's face, once open and relieved, hardened into a mask of raw hurt. Her posture straightened, her own anger rising to meet the Captain's frost.
"I've killed. I've bled. And I've cried for you," Riley bit out, her voice trembling with a ferocity that betrayed the tears welling in her eyes. She turned her head sharply, a futile attempt to hide the hot streak of moisture tracing down her cheek. The solid wood of the door offered a promise of escape, of not having to stand under this brutal, unjust scrutiny.
She moved toward it, a surge of angry motion.
A sudden, explosive weight slammed into the back of her shoulder. Captain's hand, shoving her off balance, sending her stumbling into the door frame with a heavy thud. The impact rattled the wood.
"I did not dismiss you." Captain's words were gritted out, low and venomous.
Captain slid between Riley and her escape, blocking the door. She pressed her arms against the frame, a human barricade. Riley towered over her, breath heaving, a tempest of rage and wounded pride.
"Captain," Riley warned, her voice a low, dangerous thing. "Get out of my way."
"First Mate Riley," Captain's voice was a whip crack of authority, laced with a challenge. "Explain your treason."
Riley walked slowly over, grabbing the wrists of Captain with a firm grip. She forced the Captain's arms up, pinning them high against the door above her head. The move brought their bodies flush. Riley's breath hovered over the Captain's lips, warm and agitated.
"My treason?" Riley's voice dropped to a searing whisper, her eyes burning into Captain's. "I fought. I killed. I coerced. I refused to die. I had one mission above all else. Above the crew. Above the princess. Above whatever farcical code you believe I have broken." Her grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel like a brand. "My treason is that I did anything necessary to come back. Anything needed to be with you."
Their chests heaved in unison, fury and something else, something wilder and more desperate, charging the scant inches between them. The air was gone from the room, replaced by the heat of their shared breath, the pounding of two hearts refusing to yield.
Captain surged forward, closing the distance. Her lips crashed against Riley's.
For a heartbeat, Riley went rigid, stunned. Then, fury transmuted into a raw, consuming need. Her own kiss was a retaliation, just as fierce, just as desperate. She pressed her body forward, driving Captain back against the door with a solid, resonating thump.
Outside, the sound echoed down the quiet hallway.
Finneas, Thomas, and Korlai, having approached to deliver a report, froze mid-step at the abrupt, violent noise. They exchanged a single, wide-eyed glance of curiosity and concern. THUD.
Finneas's face tightened with alarm. He moved quickly for the door handle before Korlai caught his wrist. He gestured with his hand for patience and pushed his ear to the door.
A battle clearly raged within. A sharp creak of furniture straining. A frustrated, guttural grunt of feminine exertion. Then, a sudden break in the carnage.
A soft, shuddering moan of pure pleasure slipped through the door. It was followed immediately by a deeper, more invigorated grunt, the sound of a body moving with renewed, frantic purpose.
Korlai straightened up, his grin now full and brilliant. He looked from Finneas's bewildered face to Thomas's raised, knowing eyebrow.
"How about," Thomas suggested, his voice barely a whisper, thick with shared understanding, "We check in later, gentlemen?"
Chapter 19
As the day progressed, Thomas sat shirtless on a low stool, the muscles in his jaw tight as he watched Hayden's focused movements. The surgeon, a man whose small stature was belied by an immense, unwavering cheerfulness, hummed a tuneless shanty as he worked.
"Tsk, now that's a stubborn one," Hayden murmured, his long tweezers probing a wound on Thomas's shoulder. With a final, precise plink, a sizable sliver of dark wood landed in the metal bowl with the others. "Very lucky, though. It's all just wood. Metal is so much fussier. You said it was shrapnel, yes?"
"Yes, it was from the—" Thomas began, his explanation cut short by Hayden's enthusiastic nod.
"Yes, yes! Splintered shot. Quite fortunate! A more direct hit could have shattered the bone. Today, we save the arm!" Hayden proclaimed, as if announcing a grand victory.
Thomas shifted his weight with a half-hearted chuckle, unsure if Hayden was joking or not.
*
Up on the main deck, the air was less about salvation and more about sheer, grueling efficiency. Korlai sat on an upturned crate, methodically running an oiled rag along the gleaming edge of a cutlass. Each practiced stroke was a study in care, a quiet ritual amidst the chaos.
Nearby, Finneas was a storm cloud of frustration. "No, you bilge rat! The line goes through the block, not around it! Are you trying to lose a finger?" His voice was a low growl, his patience worn. A dozen new crewmen, their faces gaunt and eyes shadowed with exhaustion, fumbled with the unfamiliar rigging of the Abyss.
Finneas despised inadequate minds, and he was currently surrounded by them, already mentally calculating which would be the most expendable in the skirmish he knew was coming.
A scrawny man, testing his new steel, poked the metal to his finger, instantly splitting it open with a sharp "F**k!"
"Damnit!" Finneas roared. "Get below to the doc. If you can't resist stabbing yourself, you're no use to me." He scanned the ragged group, their hollow cheeks and sunken eyes a testament to hard lives made harder. "Frank! Where are you, Frank?"
"Aye, Finneas?" Frank called out from his station.
"Get this sorry lot some oatmeal. They look like skeletons washed up on a beach." Frank gave a hearty thumbs-up and vanished. Finneas dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Double rations," he muttered to the sea air. "Until they look less like death."
*
The captain's quarters was completely destroyed. Clothes were strewn across the floor, a shattered inkwell bled a dark stain over a navigational chart, and the bed itself was a tangled nest of linens.
In the center of it all, the two women lay entwined, the sweat cooling on their skin. Captain's fingertips, calloused, traced the purple bruise that wrapped around Riley's throat. Her touch was feather-light.
"Big f**ker almost got you, then?" Captain's voice was low, a private rumble.
Riley's head was pillowed on her arm. "Saw stars. Purple ones. Felt something warm and wet dripping down my neck, and then the bastard just… slouched over."
Captain stared off with an unbroken thought, "Glad she was there to save you. Didn't know the princess had it in her."
Riley looked up towards the Captain with a somber expression. "Captain, there's one more thing."
Riley paused to find the words. "In the cave– well it was dark. We had lost our torches and we went deep into the tunnels. Deeper than anyone has ever mapped out. Even after Aaliyah saved me, I was worried we might be lost to the dark."
Riley now had the Captain's full attention.
"Then this… white light. It just blasted through the black. Like the sun at high noon."
"I don't understand," Captain stated plainly, sitting up fully to get a better look at Riley.
"It was Thomas, he had found this gem. It glowed so bright and with it we were able to find our way back with ease."
"He found it?!" The captain's voice was of extreme suspicion. "Riley, what would a group of hunters have to do with what sounds like a Moon Gem?"
Riley's hand found the Captain's, her grip firm, an anchor in the unsettling revelation. "One of the hunters must've brought it in. A lucky charm."
Captain shook her head, a short, sharp negation. "That lot would've slaughtered each other for a prize like that. They couldn't keep a secret to save their own lives."
"Captain," Riley said, her voice dropping into a space of deliberate, chosen truth. "Thomas found it. He's giving it to Finneas for safekeeping right now." Her eyes held the Captain's, imploring her to accept the simpler, safer fiction. "Thomas found it."
The Captain held the gaze for a long moment, the gears of strategy and trust turning behind her pale blue eyes. The story was flimsy, but survival sometimes required accepting convenient lies. "Thomas found it," she repeated, the words a reluctant concession.
Finneas' voice boomed from outside the door, "Captain! We have sails! Multiple!"
On deck, the wind tugged at Captain's short hair as she lowered the telescope. Her face was a mask of cool composure. "Looks like they found us." She handed the glass back to Finneas, her voice dropping to a dry, lethal whisper. "We should've killed Trudy when we had the chance."
She turned to Riley, who had followed her up, now dressed and every bit the formidable first mate. The order was quiet, absolute, and carried the weight of the coming storm. "Ready the crew."
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