Page 91 of Tempest

“Good,” Cat said, looking between the two captive men. “Let’s hope they take the bait.”

Footsteps echoed in the passage, and she clamped her mouth shut, returning to her bucket as quickly as she could. In the cell, Fell stood over Ryman, a clear threat to keep silent.

The door swung open on screaming hinges to reveal Ana again. She smiled a wide, taunting smile as she looked at the men in the cell, then Cat.

“Thank you for staying put, Lady Rose,” she said. It felt like being teased. “You’re an obliging sort, aren’t you?”

Hold the ruse, Cat told herself. It was enough to take the edge off the stinging insult.

“So I’m told,” she muttered, looking down at her bare feet. Her toes wriggled against the rough floor, growing colder in the damp hold of the ship.

In the doorway, Ana tossed her black hair over one shoulder, the dark waves curling with sea salt.

“Good, let us keep it that way.” She extended a hand, gesturing for Cat to follow.

Cat blinked at the woman’s fingers. Another chill went down her spine. “Is there . . . more needed of me?”

Someone shuffled in the cell and a body leaned against the bars.

“Captain Kane may treat with me now,” Fell growled behind her, but Ana didn’t bother to look at him.

She only moved her hand again, waving for Cat.

“Orders were for Lady Rose,” she said, her eyes somehow darker than the shadows. “Come along.”

Glancing around the brig, Cat knew better than to argue. Her safety relied upon remaining in the good graces of Captain Kane, and her ability to lie. A great ransom hung in the balance, or at least the pirates believed it did.

And secretly, she was more than eager to get away from Ryman and the dank cell, even if it meant leaving Lieutenant Fell behind too.

“Very well, Miss Ana,” she muttered, rising from the bucket.

This time, Fell did not try to argue with her. Even he knew when to admit defeat, or at the very least, stay quiet. Cat glanced at him over her shoulder, holding his gaze until she reached the threshold. Then the door swung shut behind her.

“Miss Ana,” the pirate woman echoed, shaking her head out in the passage. Her strange accent seemed to thicken when amused. “I do not think anyone has ever called me that.”

Though Ana was the shorter of the two, her strides were quick, forcing Cat to hurry to keep up. She bunched her shift in one hand, so as not to be caught up in her skirts as they climbed through the ship.

“What do you like to be called?” Cat said, eyeing a vast hold of cargo. The crates and chests and packages were mismatched, clearly taken from several different ships.

Perhaps Kane is not so inexperienced a captain as I thought.

Ahead of her, halfway up a ladder, Ana paused, one arm through a rung.

“My name is Anamina Rualcon. So they call me Anamina Rualcon, or Ana for short,” she answered bluntly, shrugging.

“Does it mean anything? In your language?”

At that, Ana laughed and shook her head.

“Does your name mean anything in your language?” she replied, an impatient look on her face.

“Well, I assume,” Cat could only mumble, her face hot. “My first name is Catrine, a family name. And Rose—is not my name, but his,” she added, gesturing in the vague direction of the brig.

That seemed to soften Ana a little. “I never understood that custom, taking names from one to force upon another. But that is the way of you crown worshippers, isn’t it? Shoving yourself into every corner you can find.”

To that, Cat could say little. It was true of course. The colonies were proof of it, in the Lyrian and across the map. Ships of the Meridian, trade outposts of the Esperese—they seemed to crisscross the known world. Raising flags, claiming lands, drawing borders that never existed before. But it was hardly her concern. Cat was just a speck, and an imprisoned one at that.

Across the narrow passage, Ana bared her teeth, a finger tapping a shining incisor. Cat shrank back, but after a moment she realized it wasn’t a threat, but a thoughtful tic.