Page 88 of Tempest

Ana only shrugged, her rage turning to insulting pity.

“The way I see it, you’re dead already. It just remains to be seen who will do the deed,” she replied.

Cat swallowed hard, a lump in her throat.

“The Meridian Empire will never let you go. Not truly. And the republic, the pirates—Valerian—they’ll never forgive,” Ana continued. “Take that back down the volcano with you.”

There was nothing Cat wanted more than to run down the stairs, into the jungle, back to the port, and onto a ship. Any ship, to anywhere it would take her. But she held her ground, one hand against the stone wall, the rough feel of it keeping her anchored as she looked into the bitter abyss of Ana’s black eyes.

“You should leave these islands while you still can. Go back to Arcayo, at least,” Cat said. For once, it was not a calculation or even a lie. “Governor Osprin will hunt down every pirate in the Lyrian. And you are not so hidden as you think.”

Ana’s anger slipped, if only a little. But it did not disappear. After a long moment, she waved her hand, dismissing Cat as if she were a beggar at the door.

“I’ll stay where I am. Sell my head if you must.”

Chapter Sixteen Before

THE SHE-PIRATE, THE one Captain Kane called Ana, waited outside his cabin. She paced a circle around the council room, unable to stand still, a shark forever moving. Cat tried not to be afraid, but trembled when the woman smiled, showing her silver teeth again.

“This way, my lady,” she said, beckoning Cat forwards. Ana’s sleeves were rolled, revealing a braided tattoo on her wrist. It matched the one on the captain’s chest, inked above his heart.

Cat could not help but stare at the tattoo and wonder. It would be no shock to learn Captain Kane shared his bed with a member of his crew, particularly one so beautiful as Ana. For she was beautiful, in a fierce, furious way, like a crashing wave or a waterfall. Not like Cat, who felt more like a painting. A piece of porcelain. Fine but immobile, unmoving. And silent.

She followed Ana mutely back on deck, and then below it. She kept her feet as best she could, trying to be steady against the rocking motions of the sea. Questions ran through her mind—how did you become a pirate, what will the captain do to us?—but Cat was spent. It took all her bravery and boldness to face down Valerian Kane. She barely had the will to walk, let alone interrogate a pirate woman with silver fangs.

Ana navigated the warren that was the lower decks of the Covenant, leading Cat down cramped stairwells and passages. She glimpsed the bunk room of swinging hammocks, endless stores of food and plunder, the cook’s galley, the gun deck rammed with cannons. Crawlspaces and portholes. Though she knew little of ships, Cat knew enough to realize where they were heading.

To the brig.

The ship’s jail was deep in the hold, tucked away amongst the cargo. The low, damp space felt stifling, the air far too close, a single greasy oil lamp burning in the corner. It was barely enough to illuminate the bars sectioning off one side of the room, forming a cell against the curved wall of the ship’s hull.

Two men turned towards her, their faces shadowed in the gloom. Ryman’s eyes were swollen from crying and spittle drooled from his gag. He hiccupped against the fabric, his tears thankfully spent. Fell, on the other hand, jumped to attention at once, his silver eyes shining like an animal peering through the gloom. He had long worked his gag from his mouth, Cat noted, and chose not to extend the same courtesy to her husband.

She did not blame him.

“Are you well, Lady Rose?” Fell said, pressing his face against the bars. Rare concern pulled at his features, his brows furrowed.

Cat nodded. She braced herself, expecting Ana to throw her in with the other two. Lady or not, she was a prisoner, another bit of plunder rescued from the Venerable.

But Ana did not move, flanking her as if she were just an innocent bystander.

An innocent bystander with two wicked knives.

Cat swallowed, finding her voice. “I am well, sir. I have treated with Captain Kane.”

Fell bared his teeth, disgusted. By the thought of a Meridian lady bargaining with a pirate, or the title she afforded Valerian, Cat could not say. Perhaps both.

“And what did he demand of you?” the Meridian officer muttered, a wash of pink spotting his cheeks. She did not miss the way his gaze flickered over her thin shift.

Her body heated at the implication, something curling in her core.

“Three hundred crowns,” Cat answered quickly, before her mind or Fell’s could run away with worse thoughts. Though three hundred imperially minted crowns were certainly a terrible price of their own.

Ryman whined behind his gag.

“My thoughts exactly,” Cat muttered, agreeing with her husband for once. Then she remembered Ana at her side, sharp-eyed and sharper eared. “But it will have to be done. I’m certain we can pay in installments, with promissory notes from the bank in Archenport to be underwritten and repaid from our vault in Brycam City.”

Cat kept her eyes on Ryman, her gaze hard and desperate, willing him to understand. Willing him to be intelligent for once in his rotten, spoiled life. She had never been so grateful for a gag in a man’s mouth.