Page 67 of Tempest

The voice called for aid again, his caterwaul a burning knife.

Leave him to die. Let him drown. Let me be free of him.

The pirate captain held longer than she expected, unblinking and thoughtful, even as his crew ran to the rail, shouting about a man in the water. A pale man, a soft man.

A rich man.

Valerian’s command felt like a blow, spoken without breaking eye contact.

“Throw him a rope.”

* * *

RYMAN ROSE WEPT every second of the surprisingly long journey from the waves to the deck of the Covenant. He could barely hold his own weight and wailed as they pulled him up, his hands shaking as he grasped the thick rope around his middle. When he fell to the deck, sputtering and spitting seawater, it took a long moment to get his bearings.

And perceive the ship he willingly climbed aboard.

“You are not the navy,” he mumbled, looking into Valerian’s face with round, red eyes.

“Are we not?” Valerian laughed, to the amusement of his crew. “How terrible, Lord Rose.”

Before Ryman could shriek again, a few members of the crew fell upon him, binding his hands and feet. Though Cat doubted it mattered much. Her husband was more liable to piss himself than pick up a sword.

“Catrine, help me!” he wept, immediately crying fat, shameful tears. He shook, looking between the only faces he recognized. “Lieutenant Fell, I order you to protect—”

“Gag him too,” Valerian muttered, meeting Cat’s eye across the deck.

Relief, small as it was, washed over Cat. She dipped her chin an inch in gratitude. Valerian returned the gesture, and the stormy green of his eyes flared again, catching the sun.

Then Fell hissed up at her from his knees, shifting close to her hip.

“You know this pirate?” he whispered, looking at her sidelong. The lieutenant seemed torn between scandalized horror and fascination.

Cat chewed her lip. “He waylaid the Credence on the crossing from Meridia. Or his former captain did.”

She eyed the ship again. Though smaller than Captain Morovant’s, it was still impressive. And likely stolen from the Meridian navy.

Her voice dropped. “It seems Valerian Kane has moved up in the world since then.”

Scandalized horror won out, and Fell’s eyes widened.

“You know his name?” he sputtered.

But Cat had no time for Jasper Fell’s judgement. She gritted her teeth, weighing the crew, its captain, and the sea stretching endless in every direction.

“Shut up and let me save your life,” she hissed so only Fell could hear.

Then she took a shaky step forwards, away from the lieutenant, to stand alone in the middle of the deck. It felt like crossing a threshold. Even the wind seemed to know it, a sudden gust catching her wet hair, blowing damp bronze curls across her eyes. The air swelled, the smell of salt and smoke and distant blood filling her senses. Hidden in her sleeves, her hands trembled, but her spine was straight, her amber eyes unblinking.

Catrine Rose was a lady of the Meridian Empire, no matter how bleak the circumstances might be. If anything, her life depended on it now.

“I did say I would like to treat with your captain,” Cat said, loud enough for all to hear. Her voice echoed, sharp-toned as a governess scolding a lazy pupil. “On behalf of my husband, Lord Rose. And Lieutenant Fell.”

Valerian glanced at Fell, sizing him up again with a flick of his eyes.

“Lieutenant, you say?” he echoed, grinning as another ripple of glee went through the crew. “And Lord Rose. It seems we are not without a prize,” he added loudly, gesturing with a sweep of a hand.

Beyond the rail, the wreck of the Venerable still burned, its crew and cargo lost to the deep. Though most members of Valerian’s crew kept up their smiles, cheered by the thought of ransom, Cat did not miss the darker faces. Some even grumbled behind battered hands, clearly disgruntled by the events of the night.