Page 87 of Tempest

Tears prickled in Ana’s eyes again, but not from sorrow. Cat saw rage in her once-friend. And regret too, bitter enough to taste.

“By the Sea and the Song,” she hissed, the holy words turned into a curse. “And when Valerian didn’t listen? You found someone else to tell. You always were so good at that, whispering, collecting secrets. Selling information to the highest bidder. And I suppose no one pays so well as the Meridian Empire!”

Cat was no fighter, but she was a gambler. When she swiped an arm, knocking Ana’s hand away, she bet well. The pirate, a warrior even in her wool dress, could not bring herself to fight back.

“I did what any good pirate would do,” Cat snapped. The truth of it rang between them like the bell in the tower, impossible to ignore. Her knife was still in her boot, but Cat was not stupid enough to draw it against Anamina Rualcon. “I took the money. I protected myself, because no one else ever will.”

Ana threw her a look of disgust, as if Lady Rose was refuse in the street. She went to her knife and, with a quick flick of her foot, tossed it into the air to catch and return to her sleeve.

“You’re not a pirate. You’re worse,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re a traitor, Widow Rose. To Valerian, to the pirate republic.”

Free from the archway, Cat tried not to think of the very long drop down to the courtyard. Nor the letters on the desk, which Ana very smoothly planted herself in front of. It was a clear message. She would allow Cat her life, but little else.

“The republic,” Cat spat, her disgust radiating. “The republic was doomed from the start.”

“You never did have much faith. I told Valerian as much once. In the Song or in what we built,” Ana scoffed at her, almost amused. “No matter how much you love that woman, she will never understand. I’m sorry I was right.”

It was a blow meant to hurt her, and Cat felt it like a dagger through her heart. Lucky, then, that my heart has turned to stone. She brushed it off as best she could, refusing to be dragged backwards through a storm of memory.

“Understand what?” she sneered, dropping all her pretenses. There was no more use in them. “Suicide?”

To her surprise, Ana grinned silver, the Seawolf once more.

“This is a betrayal, the worst kind. To yourself, to your heart—and to the Lyrian Sea. You will rue the day you chose the Empire, and the losing side,” she said, her voice stern.

“The losing side?” Cat sputtered. “Ana, you’ve spent too long in your tower. One side did lose, and it was not the Meridian!”

“Think what you wish, Widow Rose. This war is not over,” she warned. “And the Lyrian’s punishment will be worse than anything I can give you.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed.

A betrayal of the sea.

She turned the words over in her mind. They were familiar, distantly so, and Cat racked her mind for an answer. She knew the Arcayans swore on the sea and prayed to it, upholding their Song. In their eyes, to betray the sea was the gravest of transgressions.

The answer was obvious. This was an Esperese church, but Ana would never serve Esperese gods. Not really. Not in her heart.

“This tower isn’t a ruin, is it? Not abandoned, not forgotten,” Cat breathed. She thought of the Arcayan priest in the market. Her eyes flicked over Ana, taking in her roughspun robe. “You should be wearing indigo like the rest of your order.”

The other woman seemed to curl, as if retreating into a shell.

“You would not understand, and you would not believe,” Ana said again. Her voice took on an odd tremor, like struck metal reverberating between her words. Before Cat could think to question it, the pirate woman lunged, and Cat tensed, bracing for a blow. Only for Ana’s hand to catch the chain of her pocket watch, still looped in her belt. It broke with a ring of gold, followed by the crunching sound of glass and gears beneath a boot.

Cat could do nothing as Ana dug her heel into the mechanism, the shattered image of a fading rose splintered against the floorboards. Cat’s heart twisted, feeling the crush of Ana’s rage as the watch ticked one last wobbling second. Then the clock stopped forever, never to keep time again, its years of service finally spent.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to give Ana the satisfaction of her anger, or her pain.

“You always did like the shiny things Valerian gave you,” the Seawolf said. “Too much.”

“Quite the accusation from a pirate.”

At that, Ana sneered one last time. “Get out of my sight, Cat.”

“Gladly,” she snapped, pressing the scarf to the wound on her neck. It was small but dripping, and she could hardly get blood on her only decent dress.

Her steps were quick, but she paused at the top stair, looking back. Her eyes flicked over the desk to the letters waiting to be sent gods knew where. Then to Ana, a guardian in her tower. And finally to the twisted remains of her watch.

“I’m surprised you would not kill me for this,” Cat said plainly.