Page 63 of Tempest

Fell narrowed his eyes. “But he could be there.”

“Certainly,” Cat offered with a shrug. “Valerian Kane could be on any island in the Lyrian Sea—or on none. I am not a sailor, I do not know how many square miles the territory encompasses—but I’m sure you do, Captain,” she purred. “Now, would you prefer to chase instinct or information?”

His retort was swift. “Information has suited me well thus far.”

With a grateful sigh, she stepped back, putting a few inches between them. “Then let’s get on with it.”

She gestured for him to leave, but Fell did not budge. He still watched her, keen as a hawk.

“Alvaris is a proper city, bigger than Archenport. Easy to get lost in.” His jaw clenched. “Easy to disappear.”

After long years living between the changing lines of the Lyrian Sea, Cat knew how to keep a straight face. Her expression did not change, though she thought of the coins in her purse, in her dress, tucked away wherever she could hide them. Coin enough to buy passage, coin enough to slip away.

“I don’t trust you to tell me the truth, Cat,” Fell said. “But I do trust you to save your own skin. You always do,” he added, shoving the door back open with a boot. Sunlight spilled over his shoulders, edging the navy captain in gold. “So remember your bargain, with the governor and with me.”

Cat wanted to don her smile, to charm Fell once more and placate all his worries. To keep him searching the horizon, instead of searching her. She only held her ground, her vision at war with the darkness of the cabin and the bright light of the deck. It seemed to swallow Fell whole, obscuring his face.

But not his voice.

“This road ends in only two places,” he warned. “With Valerian Kane’s neck in the noose, or your own.”

Chapter Twelve Before

CAT FELT LIKE a sack of grain, passed hand over hand and hauled over the side of the pirate vessel. She fell to the deck like a sack of grain too, her balance thrown off by her bound wrists. But her concern was elsewhere. Not on the ship, or even the pirates shuffling her along. She focused on the tale rapidly taking shape in her head.

I’m Sara Cove, a maid to Lord and Lady Rose, both now drowned with the rest of the Venerable. I accompanied the family on the crossing from the Empire. I was born in Thresher, a town outside Brycam City...

It was an easy story to tell, a true one. And Sara did not need her own story anymore.

Fell would be a harder tale to twist. Though he had lost his coat and hat, his hair undone from its neat queue, there was no denying his status as a sailor in the imperial navy, not with such a tattoo on his arm. Cat only hoped he had the sense to claim a lower rank and masquerade as a seaman who might be shown mercy. Not like an officer, who the pirates would certainly kill on the spot, if they did not torture him first.

Cat winced as he was forced over the rail after her. Fell wore far more bindings, with rough rope tied around his ankles as well as his wrists. The pirates laughed when Fell collapsed on the deck, unable to stand. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut, lest they gag him. But his cheeks flushed.

Unsteady as she was, Cat tried to help Fell to his feet. Until someone grabbed the neck of her shift, holding her in place like a dog carrying a pup by the scruff.

Blinding rage filled Cat’s body, despite her predicament. Forgetting Fell, she fought to stand on shaky feet and rounded on the offending pirate.

Cat expected a rotten man like most sailors, skin mottled with sunburns and sores, grinning with a mouth of yellow teeth. Instead, she found herself face to face with the woman from the longboat. She was black-haired and bronze-skinned, with a hawklike nose and high cheekbones. Her features were clearly of the south, from Itzima or Crownless Arcayo.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Cat tried to compose herself in the face of the unknown.

Then the pirate woman smiled. Her four front teeth gleamed silver, matching the hoops in her ears and the fine chain around her neck.

It made for a shocking—and intriguing—sight.

“Where are you going?” the pirate woman purred, tipping her head.

Indeed, her voice carried a distinct accent Cat had never heard before, rich-toned and almost melodic in rhythm. She was shorter than Cat, with a curving body on full display in her shirt and breeches. Despite her womanly form, there was no mistaking the danger of her. She wore a pair of knives, the belts crisscrossing her hips.

Cat swallowed hard, trying to force down the hasty words already clawing up her throat.

She was not successful.

“Will you at least let the man stand on his own two feet before you kill him?” Cat snarled into the pirate’s face.

The woman did not flinch, but her dark gaze flared, her expression changing from shock to interest. Her black eyes flicked between Cat and Fell, tracing a line between them. Then she loosened her grip, dropping her hold on Cat’s collar.

“I thought Meridian wives despised their husbands,” she said with half a grin.