Page 111 of Tempest

Cat shook her head, rueful. “Another casualty of the war. The city was burned by the Esperese.”

To her shock, Kane’s mouth curved, lifting into a half smile. He seemed almost triumphant, as if the victory was his own and not Esperin’s.

Hardly the response warranted, even from a pirate.

“I do not expect you to mourn, Captain Kane, but show some respect,” Cat said. “Allisport was home to thousands, including Mr. Brimley—”

“I’ve seen it myself, thank you,” he bit back, ashing his cigar into her turtle shell bowl. Cat wrinkled her nose and opened her mouth to scold him.

Only for Kane to cut her off again.

“You hold the X, Lady Rose,” he said neatly, his stormy eyes intent on hers.

With all the will in her body, Cat squashed the urge to swat the cigar from his hand. Instead, she threw down her fan of cards, the red X buried among them. Gasps went around the table from the others, both in triumph and surprise.

“Well seen,” she muttered, her face warm and flushed. Again, she thought about sweeping her winnings into her skirt and escaping—albeit with a smaller pile than she had possessed five minutes ago. But that would be admitting defeat, in the only place she might hope to hold ground.

Across the table, Kane drew another pull of the cigar. The end of it flared, embers reflecting in his flickering gaze. He did not reach for the varied coins and trinkets.

“Another?” he said, never breaking his stare.

Cat’s fingers curled and something inside her shivered, the sensation fluttering in her ribcage. She did not think she could look away from the pirate, his eyes pulling her in like the coiling winds of a hurricane.

“Shall we sweeten the pot?” she murmured.

He smiled crookedly, leaning forwards. The lantern light gleamed, illuminating the lightest sheen of sweat across his chest of golden-brown curls. Such was the way of the Lyrian Sea, the air thick with heat, even against the spray of the endless waves.

“What did you have in mind?”

Cat flashed a grin. “A question. I ask, you answer?”

“And if I beat you again?” Kane mused.

“The same,” she said, shrugging. She could hardly fathom what information a pirate captain could want from her, let alone use. “You ask, I answer.”

“Perfect.”

Steadily, he discarded his jacket. Then he set to rolling his sleeves, white cotton sliding up over his forearms. Another tattoo, black against tanned skin, marked the inside flesh of his arm.

Cat traced the dark spots of ink with her eyes, seven dots in seemingly random order, as he began to shuffle the cards.

* * *

IT WAS NOT like the early mornings in the parlor of a country estate or a city townhome, where tiny glasses of sherry and pots of tea went round, numbing and waking the players in equal measure. Young lords too filled with life to sleep gambled alongside old aunts too filled with aches. And Cat played amongst them, awaiting a husband too drunk to stand, passed out in a closet somewhere, snoring into a pile of linens. She would take their scraps of money and baubles, but few played with anything of real value. It was not proper for nobles to carry currency, and certainly not to balls or parties. Most winnings were better left on the table. Her pride was the pot, to be gloated over later when they rumbled home in a rented carriage. Or, gods forbid, walked.

It had been a difficult life, filled with regret and disappointment. But not so difficult as the one she lived now, where every tide seemed to bring another hardship or obstacle—none so currently frustrating as a pirate captain with a wicked smile and a vicious mind for cards.

The once-patient Valerian Kane now played at a furious pace, forcing both Cat and the other two pirates to keep up like whipped horses. Gone was the prudent, slow player of a few hands ago, replaced by a smirking demon who delighted in the frenzy. Cat barely had time to keep count but somehow it thrilled her. She gritted her teeth, holding back a manic grin of her own. Each card thrown was a bullet dodged or fired, and her heart jumped with every reveal. Diamonds, crescents, swords, stars. The symbols burned against her eyelids, a brand in black ink.

There was no denying which two players warred for control of the table. Cat barely glanced at Brimley or Garedo, only watching their hands to keep count. The captain was the same, lifting his eyes from his hand to flicker over the cards—and Cat’s face. Her heart jumped then too, every time she glimpsed a flash of storm green.

Garedo discarded two crescents while handing another three cards to his left. Kane took them unflinchingly, his tanned face still, fingers quick and sure as he shuffled the cards in his hand.

Cat struck without warning or hesitation.

“Captain Kane,” she said, watching as he raised an eyebrow. “You hold the X.”

Low whistles went through their audience, and even Ratter, half asleep on a coil of rope, sat up to watch the fallout.