Page 12 of Tempest

What have you done, Jasper? she wanted to scream.

When Fell stood with her, Cat’s heart dropped to her stomach. A new saber hung at his side, decorated with gold filigree. And a flintlock pistol was holstered next to it. The gun was far more familiar, painfully so, its curves of silver and polished wood ornate and unmistakable.

For a second, she wondered if this was just another nightmare. She half expected Fell to fade in front of her eyes, to wake in her bed upstairs, all this just a passing terror.

Her fingers shook, but her voice did not.

“I see,” she said brusquely, taking another step back from the table. “I assume the final payment is on a ship, to make sure I disappear. Fine, that is my aim anyway. To leave this godsforsaken rock behind, and you with it.”

Hopeful words. Desperate words.

Silent, Fell matched her steps from across the room, prowling after her like a jaguar stalking its prey.

“Perhaps all this will sink into the Lyrian when I go, swallowed up by the wind and tide,” Cat continued, her mind already on the layout of her townhome.

The stairs were behind her, her keys in her pocket along with her knife. She would have to beat Fell to the front door, then hope the shadows provided cover enough to steal away into the harbor. Onto a ship, any ship. Off island, leaving Archenport behind as she should have done weeks ago.

She strained her ears, listening for Derry—or someone else.

“Perhaps I will return home to Meridia,” she forced out, trying to buy some time. “Back to the Empire after all these years.”

It was a terrible lie, one they both recognized.

Fell rounded the table, his boots thudding on the floor. The empty look deepened, his bright eyes gone to shadow.

“Cat.”

She fought the urge to slap him—or claw his face. Instead, Cat took another step backwards, a shaking hand raised. As if she could really stop Fell when it came to it. He was a captain, yes, proper and polished and pampered by the new governor. But she knew the sailor beneath the medals, the man under the ridiculous coat. She remembered too much of Jasper Fell not to fear him and what might become of her should their alliance collapse.

He will do everything he can to rise, even if others must fall.

Her body went cold, the taste of bile rising in her throat.

Including me.

“I did everything you asked,” she said, her words finally shaking, but not with fear. It was rage that ate her through. “I made you, Fell.”

Something creaked in the adjoining kitchen, a footstep or a shifting weight. It’s only Derry, Cat told herself, knowing it was another lie.

Fell tipped his head, one hand on the hilt of his saber.

“I like to think my skill had something to do with it,” he said, brandishing his half smile again. One by one, he tapped at his medals, the ribbons and metals in all colors. “You only pointed me in the right direction.”

Cat flicked her eyes over his honors and raised her chin.

Only pointed in the right direction.

Masts cracked in half, hulls blown apart by cannon fire. Countless men swallowed by the waves, the rest in chains. A black flag sinking to the bottom of the sea while the golden lion of the Meridian flew high. A new fleet on the horizon, sailing into a conquered port.

Only pointed in the right direction.

“How dare you,” Cat said, a familiar feeling washing over her. It was the sense of being overlooked, misjudged, underestimated, and undervalued. “A dozen ships are at the bottom of the ocean thanks to what I told you. Half the men hanging in this city—”

The captain cut her off with a sharp look.

“You know it’s a miracle they haven’t hung you yet? The crown laws are so clear and rigid, aren’t they?” Fell bit back, towering over her. “All who partake in piracy, on the sea or off it. I’m quite certain that includes provisioning their ships, offering quarter to their sailors—not to mention fraternization.”

He said the last word with a hateful smirk, though his throat flushed red over his collar.