Page 158 of Tempest

Even in her mind, it felt like a foolish hope. The crew were ready for battle, hungry for it even.

You don’t know the half of it, Valerian had said.

He was not lying.

It was like seeing the Covenant for the first time all over again, when she clung to the wreck of the Venerable. The pirate ship was not a sanctuary but a beast of the sea, a predator who feasted on the spoils of the Lyrian with no concern for whatever she left in her bloody wake.

Through it all, Valerian stared down on her, his gaze an anchor holding her to the deck. Finally, he motioned with his hand too, throwing out a signal.

And Garedo melted out of the gloom. Before Cat could open her mouth to greet him, he had her by the arm, his usually kind face stoic.

“Return to your cabin, my lady,” he muttered under his breath, barely a whisper, softer than silk.

Cat wanted to obey. She willed her feet to step, her body to relent and allow Mr. Garedo to lead her back to the quarterdeck. But her chest tightened, as if invisible walls were suddenly pressing at her from all sides. Maybe they were. The walls of a cabin—not Valerian’s—but the little cabin on the Venerable, the one she had shared with her maid, Sara, clutching prayer beads through a storm. Sara, who drowned when the Venerable exploded, trapped beneath the deck in a sinking ship. Somehow her body made it to the surface, floating up to bid farewell.

Will mine?

“I’m not going inside,” Cat snapped, twisting against Mr. Garedo’s grip. It was weak, his hands still gentle even if his face was not, and she broke his hold easily. The motion set her off balance and Cat stumbled, fighting to breathe against the sensation of being crushed. Or drowned. “I’m not—”

The hand over her mouth was harsh, the one grasping her neck harsher still. Rough skin, calluses, fingers digging in to keep her from thrashing free. They were the same hands that had held her at dusk, and yet so vastly different. Cat tried to fight him off, raising her fists to push back on Valerian’s chest. She might as well have smacked a brick wall; he never wavered, bearing down on her with grim focus.

“Quiet,” he hissed in her face, his grip tight. Enough to hold her in place. Perhaps enough to bruise. “Quiet.”

Her pulse beat against his palm at her throat, her skin burning to match the flame of his. It was not fear that coursed through her now, but rage. The indignity of being touched in such a way, silenced—and all in front of the crew, too many eyes watching as the pirate captain of the Covenant manhandled his captured lady. It made Cat want to tear her skin off, and his too.

“I’m going to let you go, if you promise to be silent,” Valerian growled, the fingers on her throat loosening little by little. “Will you be silent, Lady Rose?”

She had not expected to taste him again so soon, nor under such circumstances. Her teeth met the flesh of his hand, hot iron bursting on her tongue.

To Valerian’s credit, he did not wince or cry out or even break his hold. But his eyes narrowed, the only testament to his pain. And strangely, his pursed lips twitched, betraying the smallest curl of a smirk. As if he were somehow proud of her.

In spite of the circumstances, Cat felt the same, having finally grown fangs of her own. If only for a second.

“Will you be silent?” he said once more, his hushed voice a lower timbre.

Cat nodded as best she could, his hand following the motion of her head. It made her feel like a bridled horse, and she endeavored not to bite him again. A streak of his blood worked its way over her chin, painting a scarlet line down her throat.

Satisfied, Valerian released her with maddening slowness. Behind him, Garedo looked on, his warm brown skin washed blue by the predawn light and the shifting fog. His brows knitted with concern as he glanced between captain and lady. As if one might attack the other at any moment.

“I’m not going below,” Cat said again, dropping her voice to a whisper.

Trembling, she wiped away the blood on her lips with a sleeve, leaving a bloom of scarlet at her wrist. She imagined her face made for a horrid sight, a smear of crimson across her mouth as if she were a lady panting in the back hall of a ballroom, a stolen kiss still burning on her lips.

Valerian’s blood certainly still burned, the taste of metal lingering on her tongue.

His eyes held hers, luminous and unyielding. She expected him to dismiss her fears, and the walls pressed again. He need only signal, and his crew would drag her from the deck.

Instead, he stepped backwards, arms outstretched in some strange welcome.

Like another ghost, Mr. Brimley faded out of the fog, now wearing an officer’s uniform. He carried a coat over one arm.

It was cobalt blue.

Her teeth clenched as Valerian slipped into the coat of a Meridian captain, still adorned with gleaming buttons and filigree, the white cuffs and lapels set with gold embroidery. She did not miss the hole at the shoulder, a circle of torn fabric edged with dried blood. Another crew member appeared with a black tricorne, setting it on Valerian’s head. He grinned beneath it, his golden tooth winking to match the buttons of a dead man’s jacket.

“Very well, Lady Rose, since you are so eager to learn,” Valerian whispered, throwing her words back in her face. Above him, heavy canvas flapped and the Lion unfurled from the masts, triple flags flying in the fog. “Their spotters will see us well before we are within opportune range, and a woman on deck will cause quite the confusion.”

His smirk was a dagger, sharp and stinging.