Page 56 of Tempest

To pay is to live, Cat told herself over and over again. But pay with what exactly? Promises? My nightgown? Her heartbeat quickened, ramming so hard she feared the pirates might hear it. She figured Fell certainly could.

His eyes met hers through the shadows. As on Rosby, his gaze took on an odd glint. He was weighing her measure once more, taking stock of Lady Rose. Or what remained of her, half drowned and destitute.

“Do not tell them your name, Cat,” he whispered, his voice almost lost to the sloshing water. “A maid they may let go. But a lady of the Empire—”

Cat’s breath caught in her throat. “What will they do to a lieutenant?”

The glint faded, Fell’s eyes going dull. And Cat understood exactly why he would not chance the pirates, no matter the price. As an officer of the Meridian navy, noble or not, he faced certain death.

“Do you see any survivors?” a pirate called, a woman, her voice tight and annoyed, curling with an accent Cat could not place.

“None,” another replied. “The powder magazine must’ve been full to the gills. Even Goa couldn’t salvage this wreck. What a bloody disaster.”

“By the Sea and the Song, what a waste,” the woman hissed back, almost on top of them.

An oar knocked against their hiding place, and Cat flinched, curling into herself. Beneath the surface of the water, she struggled, working the wedding ring off her finger. It was plainer than a lady’s ring should have been, just a circle of gold.

Do not tell them your name.

Cat felt nothing as she slipped it off, letting it drop. She hoped it would join the one on Ryman’s finger, steadily sinking into the dark.

A gruff male voice growled out from somewhere closer. “The captain was supposed to hobble the ship, not burn it to the keel—”

The woman outside knocked her oar again, cutting him off. “It isn’t the captain’s fault a navy ship couldn’t withstand a few cannonballs. And you should think more on salvage than running your mouth . . .”

Gray light washed over Cat and Jasper as the longboat hull flipped over, revealing them both. They recoiled in unison, as if they were not two obvious survivors bobbing in the waves.

Cat shivered in the water, staring up at a half dozen pirates. Each one looked grimier than the next, seated side by side in a battered longboat. They glared back with flint-bright eyes.

“Maybe not an entire waste,” the woman said, grinning.

Chapter Eleven After

FELL DROPPED THE charade of a dutiful officer as soon as the carriage rattled through the gates of the governor’s mansion. It felt like watching an octopus change his skin to suit a reef.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Cat bit out, seething.

Fell laughed. “Quite the performance, Lady Rose. I forgot how well you dance with the right partner.”

The right partner. Cat scoffed and glared out the window, watching Archenport roll past. Fell’s jab was twofold, meant to sting. She did her best not to think on it.

Even so, she remembered swirling silk and her steps across checkered tile, tracing the patterns of a country dance learned across the ocean. Fell’s arm under hers. And then Valerian’s too, his tempest eyes turned gold by the candles of a ballroom. It pained her, the weight of so much memory. Sometimes it felt like being pressed to death, crushed between two unyielding stones.

Satisfied with her silence, Fell relaxed back into his seat.

“I’ll have my pick of vessels,” he said. “Fear not; even without the Scorpion, you’ll be safe in whatever waters—”

“Do not pretend to care for my well-being, Fell,” Cat muttered, still pressed against the window.

The carriage was already far down the city hill, fast approaching her townhouse. Her hand closed on the handle of the door, eager to push it open. She intended to step out as quickly as she could and leave Fell performing for his favorite audience—himself.

“Oh, I’ve long stopped worrying about that,” he answered coldly. “It is my neck on the line as much as yours.”

Cat tried to bite her tongue but failed.

“Then leave me be. Save your own skin. We both know you excel in that endeavor!” she snapped, whirling to face him.

Desperation laced her words, as much as she hated it. Her eyes widened and she clasped her hands, playing the part of a beggar.