Page 148 of Tempest

“The other reasons being that you pillage, plunder, and otherwise interfere with their trade, transport, and travel through the Lyrian Sea?”

“I suppose that may be a larger factor.” His tone sharpened. “But one might call taxes robbery too. And the navy does its fair share of pillaging, albeit from the Brycam City gutters and orphanages.”

Her convictions wavered a little.

She knew the Meridian navy recruited its men from all walks of life, raising many from the poor slums and dockyards, the debtors’ prisons, the orphanages. Lieutenant Fell himself had mentioned he was an orphan boy, and it was not difficult to imagine what had brought—or shoved—him into the navy. But then Ryman said it was the best chance some of these young men had at a better life, at a purpose and direction. Though she doubted most words that came from Ryman’s mouth.

“Brimley seems happy with his choice,” she said, finding the other man laughing with his friends.

Valerian followed her gaze.

“Most defectors are.” He shrugged, but it was a facade. An attempt to look disinterested, when he was anything but. “After all, you can’t vote out a naval captain if he mistreats his crew.”

Something in his voice gave her pause. Again, she tried to picture Valerian Kane in regal uniform, his collar buttoned up his throat, a stiff tricorne on his head. It did not suit.

“But they could vote out you?”

This time he laughed as if he were saying something obvious, something everyone already knew. Cat ventured everyone did.

“Any crew could. We all vote for our captains. If they—” He stumbled, corrected himself. “If we aren’t suited, we can be removed from our position. And another captain voted in.”

It sounded both ridiculous and marvelous, another impossible piece of the Lyrian Sea.

“You’ll learn,” she murmured, a dazed look on her face as she echoed him once more. “I suppose I am learning.”

“We all do,” he replied, without thought or hesitation, repeating the conversation with ease.

Neither shifted, not giving ground or taking it. Only when another pirate approached, shuffling towards the open door, did Valerian relent, swinging wide to allow the other man to pass.

And then Cat after him, all but forcing herself out into the night air.

“Good night, Cat,” he said.

She was already on the sandy path but turned over her shoulder. Her senses swirled, filled up with the smell of tobacco and taquil, the brush of worn playing cards and rough fingers.

“Good night, Valerian.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven After

THE CARDS SKITTERED across the table, the edges battered and roughed by many hands. Cat glanced at them only once, the feel of thick paper familiar against her fingers. All around, the gambling hall pressed in, seemingly every eye in Nera turned towards the game in the center of the room.

Catrine Rose cut her teeth at the card tables of Meridian society, but she learned her hardest lessons in the gambling dens of pirates and smugglers, criminals who would sooner slit your throat than suffer a cheat or a slight. A proper Meridian lady with her polite smiles and fluttering fan gave cause for neither. But the hot-blooded tempers of chaotic men made for easy observation, allowing Cat to wait for openings and opportunities created by other distractions. Namely, brawls and duels. She had seen her fair share of blood on the cards and taken enough money from men nursing their wounded pride.

But not Valerian. It had been long years since she ever took a single coin from his purse.

No, I’ve taken much worse, she knew, feeling his hatred radiate across the table. He glared over the edge of his fanned cards, silent and seething.

Captain Vex did not seem so interested in cards, or at least not as much as he was in the game unfolding between the two other players. He glanced back and forth, eyes darting as if following a very silent, slow game of chess.

“Lover’s quarrel?” he said gruffly.

He was not the only one. Some of the Covenant crew traded knowing glances, and Cat could not blame them. They had overheard many an argument onboard the ship, or on the docks, or in the tavern. Or anywhere sound carried.

“Hardly.” She rearranged her cards. “Captain Kane just hates to lose.”

Across the table, Valerian laughed into a steadily draining glass of taquil so strong Cat could smell it from her seat.

“You only lose when the game ends,” he answered dryly. Another coin joined the pot. “And this game is far from over.”