Page 42 of Tempest

But after six months in isolation on Rosby, she had nearly forgotten the Meridian was at war. And these men her warriors, so far away from home. She eyed the deck again and the many sailors with their desperate letters.

“I’m sorry about Allisport,” she said to Fell. “Do you have family there?”

Fell seemed to harden before her eyes, his brow furrowing as he donned his hat again. His face fell into shadow.

“No,” he answered curtly, stepping backwards. “Lady Rose.”

Cat wanted to slap herself for her impropriety. She wrung her hands together to keep herself from reaching out. After all, Lieutenant Fell was the nearest thing to a friend she had on the ship. And she seemed to have scared him off.

“I did not mean to pry—” she began, but he quieted her with a pointed glance.

“Lady Rose,” he said again, bowing his head.

Cat relented with a flush, dipping into a curtsy. “Lieutenant Fell.”

She expected him to be gone when she straightened, but the officer lingered a moment longer.

“Sleep early,” he said stiffly. “We are due storms before dawn.”

Cat could only nod, her stomach already rolling in anticipation.

“I will do my best.”

Chapter Nine After

CAT JUMPED IN her seat as two sharp knocks sounded at the door, then exhaled slowly, grateful for the interruption. Even if it was only a servant with the governor’s tea or a footman with the daily correspondence, she welcomed the opportunity to gather her wits.

The governor sat back. “Yes, come in.”

Polished doors swung silently on greased hinges and two officers entered, with Fell bringing up the rear.

He glanced at Cat, his gray gaze a rare and begrudging comfort in the lion’s den that was the governor’s mansion. But she kept her chin high, as if she were just another guest in the great house, not a prisoner.

Even in a rumpled dress with tangled hair, Catrine Rose could still cling to her pride.

“Lady Rose, this is Captain Carley and Lieutenant Groust, of the Revel,” Osprin said with a dismissive wave.

Both men fell in beside the governor’s desk and gave her short, shallow nods, their hats tucked under their arms. Their blue uniforms were identical but for the captain’s gold buttons. She knew their faces, though they were not patrons of the tavern.

The governor’s lip twisted. “And you are already well acquainted with Captain Fell of the Scorpion.”

Fell did not bother to incline his head or hide his smirk. Whatever respite Cat gained from his presence disappeared in an instant. He was not here to help her sway the governor but to lord over her interrogation.

“I’m familiar,” she ground out.

“Good,” Osprin shot back, the reprimand clear. His eyes passed over her, expectant. “You were going to share what you know of the pirate Valerian Kane?”

The name sounded like a curse on Osprin’s lips, and Cat tightened, willing herself to keep focused and steady. It was not just the governor watching her now, but also Fell and the two other officers.

“Of course, my lord,” she said smoothly. “I only wish to be helpful.”

Fell tried and failed to smother a laugh. Cat wanted to slap him. She resigned to biting the inside of her cheek instead.

Again, she wished for a clean dress and a comb, water to douse the smell of prison still clinging to her. Even if it would only delay the inevitable. Though she sat in an ornate chair in a beautiful room, it felt like the gallows, the cushion beneath her threatening to give way and drop her to her death.

“Kane is a true son of the Lyrian Sea,” she forced out.

Kane. She chose her words as carefully as she could to bury any hint of attachment. Not Valerian. Not Val. Not even Captain.