Daughter of the Pirate King (Daughter of the Pirate King #1)(13)

“How are you liking your accommodations, Alosa?”

“The floor’s rough and the cell stinks.”

“Fit for the princess of thieves and murderers, don’t you think?”

“Still could do with a bed.”

“You’re welcome to ask one of the crew to share. I’m sure any of them would volunteer.”

“If I’m sleeping in anyone’s bed, it’ll be because I’ve killed him and taken his property as my own. Haven’t you lost enough crew members, Draxen?”

“You’re too sure of yourself. I think I should order Riden to add some beatings into his sessions with you. Might do you both some good. Stars know, he could use it.”

Since I doubt I’ll be able to finish my nap, I rise and take the chair, though I’m far past bored with the confrontation. Draxen has nothing interesting to say. He’s hoping to see me squirm with fear. He’s a man who feeds off of others’ pain. So far, none of his intimidations have worked.

“I’ve granted Riden permission to work on you, but should you continue to be uncooperative, I’ll give someone with less charm a chance to question you. Keep that in mind while you sit down here.”

“Better hope he doesn’t get soft on me. I’d hate to turn one of your own men against you.”

“Princess, Riden’s dealt with hundreds of women already in his life. He’s never had trouble leaving one of them. You will be no different.” His boots echo through the empty room as he leaves.

Draxen’s a real piece of work. So is Riden. They operate in different ways, but their goals are the same, which makes them both equally stupid. What morons would think to steal from the pirate king? Especially without sufficiently checking their crew for spies? It was easy to arrange my “kidnapping” once Theris provided all the information we would need.

I’m surprised when Riden comes to visit me again, this time carrying a bucket of water, a bar of soap, and a few clean rags.

I was certain I had angered Riden past the point of kindness. I almost feel bad for all the terrible things I’ve thought about him.

Almost.

“You have ten minutes before I send the men back to watch over you.”

“I’ll only need nine,” I say to be difficult.

He shakes his head before leaving.

The boat rocks a little higher at that moment. Storm’s coming indeed. I’ve got a good pair of sea legs on me. I feel sturdier on the sea than I do on land. I’m used to her movements, her language. She’ll tell you what she’s going to do, if you listen.

I’m clean and dressed in a fresh corset, this one red, when Kearan and Enwen return.

“I’m telling you, it’s bad luck to twist left. You should always thrust and turn right. Good luck, that is.”

“Enwen, if I’m stabbing a man in the heart, it doesn’t matter if I twist the knife right or left. Either way, I’ve managed to kill the bastard. Why would I need any luck?”

“For the next man you kill. Suppose it causes you to miss the heart the next time? Then you’ll be wishin’ you took the extra time to twist right the time before. You can’t kill a man good and proper if you miss the heart.”

“I’m starting to think that my ‘next time’ is very soon.”

“Don’t be like that, Kearan. You know I’m the only friend you’ve got on this ship.”

“Must be doing something wrong.” Kearan already has his flask out, but as he raises it to his head, he frowns. Empty. So he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another one. Now I understand the reason for all the pockets on the coat he wears. I would’ve suspected they were for a thief to put his finds. No, they’re for holding multiple flasks of rum. I wonder how many he has in there.

“How do you fare, Miss Alosa?” Enwen asks, turning toward me, unfazed by Kearan’s words.

“For stars’ sake, Enwen,” Kearan says. “The woman’s a prisoner. How do you think she fares? Shut your trap for one blasted moment, would you?”

“The woman can answer her own questions,” I say.

“You shouldn’t be talking, either,” Kearan says. “Don’t need no noise from the both of you.”

Enwen rubs his temple. “Master Riden only said I ‘probably’ shouldn’t speak to her, on account of beautiful women have a way of playing tricks on a man’s mind. But it wasn’t a direct order.”

“He said I was beautiful?” I smirk at the thought.

Enwen looks troubled. “Probably shouldn’t have said that.”

The ship rocks faster and faster as time goes on. Coming up on a storm is like getting into an argument. There are a few warning signs. Things heat up. But then there’s a jump. The storm hits you before you’re ready. And then you’re too far in to do anything about it except get through it.

Everything is loud. There’s nothing to hear except the wind and waves. Nothing to feel except the bitter cold. I put on the heaviest coat I own to ward off the bitterness. Every once in a while, I think I catch a shout from above deck. But that could easily be an echo of the wind.

I have to resort to sitting on the floor. My chair can’t be trusted not to tip. Enwen sits as well. He pulls something out of his pocket: a string of beads. Maybe pearls.