Page 114 of Tempest

The wind rustled, the sails rippling overhead. A bronze curl blew across Cat’s eyes, and she tucked it away with her free hand. She did not miss the way Kane’s eyes followed the movement.

“Not quite,” she said, another gamble unfolding.

There was no mistaking the furious scarlet flush that spread across Brimley’s face or what it implied. But Cat ignored his assumptions, and whatever else the crew might be thinking.

Women have more things to trade than men like to think.

Kane eyed his cards again, then her. “Intrigue me, Lady Rose.”

Her chin lifted, her shoulders squared to face the captain as she would an adversary. And an equal.

“I bet my freedom.”

It was Cook who laughed first, breaking the surprised silence with a guffaw close to a shot from a cannon. Ratter followed, giggling like the little boy he was. Cat held her composure, even while her newfound companions cracked smiles. Garedo, Brimley, Cavallid. They all chortled, dismissing her as easily as they welcomed her in.

Her grip tightened on the cards and her frustration grew. It was the same as having a curtain torn away, lifting an illusion. She was not a pirate, not a friend. She was, at best, cargo.

But Kane did not laugh. He did not even smile. And that was enough; Cat latched on to a sliver of hope thinner than the last curve of a waning moon.

“Your freedom is already agreed upon,” the captain said stiffly. “Lieutenant Fell will be ransomed, as will you and Lord Rose.”

Cat was undeterred.

“You can keep the men. Sell them both,” she bit out, slapping her cards face down. “I’m talking about me. Just me.”

At least Kane was good enough not to make her wait, to let her dangle on a hopeful thread. With a tilt of his head, he tossed his cards face up. Cat felt each one of them like a blade, cutting her hope to pieces.

“I fold, Lady Rose,” he said, standing up from the table with a scrape of his stool. The others leapt to match him, leaving her seated. And surrounded. “I’m a pirate, not a gambler. I’ll keep the prize already in hand.”

Then Kane gestured for Cat to do the same, his palm raised and open. Like the rest of him, the flesh was callused and scarred by the harshness of the sea. Cat could not help but remember the brush of her fingers on his, the rough skin warm and real.

Steady as she could, Cat stood up from her stool, weathering the gentle rock of the ship.

“Now off with you, Lady Rose,” the captain ordered. “Take your winnings and go.”

Winnings. Her eyes widened, looking from Kane to the tabletop. The pile was nothing to sneer at, her silver coins and hard-won treasures gleaming. Without question, she dragged an arm across the table, sweeping everything into her skirt. She would take inventory later.

“I still need a light,” she said, her free hand gripping the lamp that sent her out on deck in the first place.

She almost expected Kane to grumble. But he obliged with another wave, gesturing for her to follow. He set a quick pace, giving her no time to argue as he turned for the quarterdeck, and her cabin. The crew scuttled away into the darkness of the ship, disappearing to their bunks or other pursuits with only a few errant whispers.

Cat shook off thoughts of them all, too focused on keeping the coins tied up in her skirts as she hurried to catch up. With the game behind her, the rush of energy quickly faded. She dreamed of the little bunk as much as the maps she wanted to study. All together, her exhaustion and her determination were enough distraction. She barely noticed the path as she followed Kane into the council chamber, his own lantern held aloft. Only a few hours ago the same way filled her with dread. Now she just wanted to hurry into the cabin and shut the door in his face.

He seemed to feel the same, reaching for the door to her borrowed quarters without so much as a backwards glance.

The lantern light fell on his forearm, illuminating the strange dots of a stranger tattoo. And Cat could not help herself.

“What constellation is that?” she said. If not for her full hands, she might have reached out to touch the inked stars. “Or should we return to the table so I can win the right to ask another question of my captor?”

Kane froze at the door, fingers on the latch. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Pirate though he was, he obviously did not like being reminded of certain crimes.

“I’m not your captor, Lady Rose,” he ground out.

“But I am a captive. A prisoner,” she said archly. “You said so yourself.”

When he rounded on her, a look of frustration on his face, Cat only raised her dark lamp still in need of a flame. Now he did grumble and used his lantern to light the wick of her oil lamp. Another flame glowed to life, circling the two of them in a bubble of golden warmth.

“It isn’t a constellation,” he said, watching the flicker. His eyes caught the light, seeming to glow. Then he drew back, turning his arm over to hold the inked skin to the light. “It is a collection of islands. Holy places in the Lyrian Sea.”