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“Who?” the woman pirate asks.
“Daphne?” the captain repeats. He frowns. “Are you asking after that lady with the years on her? Apple-cheeked and hefty?”
I barely nod, afraid of his answer.
His frown deepens. “She’s already been taken below. You’re an interesting piece, aren’t you? Asking about her and not a thought for your dear husband, the prince?”
“She could be my mother,” I suggest, only feeling a smidge of guilt for thinking of Daphne’s well-being before my own husband’s.
“Ah,” he says with a curve of a smile and a sharp jab of his finger into the air, “but she isn’t now. I’d wager she’s your lady-in-waiting. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about royalty, in fact you’re the first royal I’ve ever met, if you can believe that. I don’t even know your name.”
I press my lips together, refusing to give it to him.
“It’s Princess Maren. Mark my word,” the woman says proudly. “And the Prince goes by Aerik.”
“And Daphne, the lady-in-waiting,” the captain surmises. “Glad to formally meet you. I’m Captain Battista.” He nods to the woman. “This little flutterin’ dove over here is Sam. And that’s Cruz, my first mate.”
“I don’t care who any of you are,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can all go straight to hell.”
I try to shrug out of his grasp but it’s fruitless even as he bursts out laughing. “My oh my. Listen to the mouth on this bit of fluff. Is that how you talk over in Copenhagen, or have you been on a boat too long? You sound like a bloody sailor.”
“Where are the rest of the crew?” I ask, looking over at the other ship. The noise from earlier has died down and though I can’t see much in the darkness beyond, I can hear talking and laughing but the screaming has stopped. That makes it even worse. My blood runs cold at the silence. The smell of burning fills the air.
“We’ve taken some of your crew into the hold,” Cruz says.
“And the rest of them?” What about the servants who have been loyally at our side for years?
Cruz raises his brows. “They’re dead,” he says simply, like I’m daft.
The words are an arrow to my heart.
“You do know what ship you’ve found yourself on,” the woman pirate says, “don’t ya?”
I do my best to seem strong, though I’m afraid I’m crumbling inside. “Yes. They call you the Brethren of the Blood.”
The captain snorts and gives me a wry look, tilting his head just so that the shadows under his high cheekbones seems to combine with his scruffy facial hair, making his face look like a skull. “So, our reputation precedes us.”
“I always thought we should be called the Ancient Brotherhood,” Cruz muses, running a hand over his chin. “Or the Devil’s Brethren.”
Sam, the woman pirate, clears her throat. “Though they both mean the same, I prefer brethren to brotherhood, if you get my saying. And I reckon it was Troop of Desperados.”
“Ah yes, Desperados,” the captain says appreciatively. “That one I’m quite fond of. I know that’s what the Spanish merchants have so affectionately termed us.” He looks to me, the shadows deepening more, so that I swear I’m looking through his skin and at his skeleton underneath. It must be a trick of the light.
Or all the legends you’d heard about them being a ghost ship are true.
My blood runs colder still. Whoever these men are, they killed the rest of the crew with no mercy.
“Either way, you don’t seem afraid enough,” the captain says, smiling unkindly. “Perhaps I’ve been too hospitable. I’ll thank you to come now and we can reunite you with your dear prince.”
He tugs at me hard enough that I nearly fall down. I’m stopped by his arms, his motions dizzyingly fast.
“And Daphne?” I ask as he pulls me along the deck, my wet dress dragging behind me.
“As Cruz said, she’s in the hold,” he says. “But that’s not fit for a princess. No darling, I have a special spot for the royal couple, reserved just for you.”
Oh blast.
“Are you taking us all prisoner?”
