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Along with his crew, he would likely assume I had been blown up, my body eaten by the fish and sharks.
Batara may have said I could have everything back once I returned, but I knew his type. He would continue to hold the crew and my ship over my head or kill me once he got this object. Even if such a thing existed, the only way for me to come out on top was to be the one who found it first, and then I would hold the power.
My attention went to the beautiful schooner I spotted earlier, gliding closer. A handful of shadowy figures perched in the rigging and on the ship’s rails, staring at the fiery debris, which was nothing more than a floating tomb.
A smile played on my mouth. While their attention was diverted, how easy would it be for me to climb aboard from behind, shift into my cat form, stow away until they debarked, and slip away into the dead of the night with no one knowing I was even there?
Not like I hadn’t done it before.
I was small in life and petite in cat form, making it so easy to hide. My dark, inky coat, which was the same color as my hair, blended with the shadows.
Swimming around, my fingers glided against the ship’s rough surface, turning my nails into cat claws and sinking into the rope ladder that dangled from most ships of this nature. They were for those who went overboard, giving them a chance to save themselves and climb back up.
“Fuck, that’s a fire. Anyone pack the s’mores?” a man’s voice joked as I scaled the rope, my head peeking over the rail. I counted five figures, three at the railing and two up in the rigging.
“Should we check for survivors?” another one with a Scottish accent asked.
“No.” A low, deep voice came from the quarterdeck, hidden behind a sail.
A shiver ran down my spine. That one word was filled with power, his voice rich and gravelly, causing the back of my neck to tingle. My instinct pegged him as the captain. His magic and power oozed from him.
Sopping wet, I carefully swung my leg over the rail, my feet softly padding onto the deck. I needed a safe space to shift, then I could tuck myself away.
Men’s voices muttered back and forth as I tiptoed behind the wall where the captain’s quarters usually were, slipping up to a few large barrels, probably full of gunpowder or fresh water. Tucking myself behind them, I closed my eyes, trying to ebb the stress, pain, and exhaustion from my body, my frame shifting.
My soaked clothes fell into a puddle around me, my wet boots and prized jacket easier to get off as my feline frame wiggled free of the fabric. Leaping up on top of the wooden container, my tail swished back and forth while my gaze darted around, my pointy ears twitching, picking up the men’s voices even better. The smell of the sea, of burning wood, oil, and corpses, dominated the air. I jumped down, keeping to the shadows, following the wall to the stairs which led to the rooms below. Below the captain’s quarters were private chambers for his high-ranking crew. The cannons took up the rest of that level. The level below would usually house the rest of the crew near the galley, but the crew here seemed bare bones, and the rooms all looked like they were being used. Heading to the kitchen and storage, I went to the farthest corner of the ship toward the bow, curling myself into a little cubby where I would never be noticed.
The explosion had rocked through my bones, and my achy muscles were waking up after the shock. I longed for a ray of sun to curl under, to feel the healing rays heat my black fur and absorb into my body. But I was in a dark, windowless room that smelled of rotting wood and brine. Tucking my tail over my eyes, I wiggled deeper into the little hiding spot, letting sleep take me under.
When I awoke, it took me a moment to remember where I was, my sight cutting through the dimness, making out the clear shapes of the storage room I was in, recalling the ship I stowed away on. Seagulls and lapping waves resounded in my ears. Yawning, I got up and stretched my limbs out, curling my back up and down, my muscles stretching and pulling. I was still sore, but being in my cat form healed me much faster.
Poking my head out of the cubby, my cat ears homed in on any sounds close by. No boots walking overhead or vibrations of a person nearby. Not one indication anyone was on board. The ship tipped back and forth gently, telling me it was not only in shallow water, but probably tied up to a dock.
Slipping out farther, I padded tentatively to the doorway, bits of daylight streaming down from the stairway, appearing deeper in color than I figured for morning. Smells of eggs and bacon drifted from the galley, but I could tell it was no longer fresh, a hint of breakfast still clinging to the surfaces.
Scurrying up the stairs, I got to the cannon and private room level, my heart tapping faster as my eyes took in the purplish-blue glow coming in from the opening to the main deck.What time was it? How long had I slept?Fae, when severely hurt, went into a coma-like state to heal. It could be hours, weeks, or months, depending on the severity of the injury.
I darted up the last set of stairs, the sun setting far in the west, the evening already stripping the sky of red and oranges, showing I had been asleep for well over fifteen hours.
Panic pushed my limbs faster toward where my clothes were hidden, the window of time to escape crashing down on me. Jumping on top of a barrel, my attention went out to the port the ship was docked in, taking in the skyline of Singapore. My ship was visible in the distance, but my flag had been taken down. The emperor’s banner now flapped from the mast, a cruel reminder of what was at stake. He wanted people to know he owned it now. That he took it from me. And if you were a pirate, he’d be coming for you next. I wanted to reclaim it, to sail it right out of here, but I knew I couldn’t. He needed to think I was dead. Stealing it back would only bring his fury and army down on me. Plus, I was good, but I couldn’t sail it alone.
It was dangerous to reenter Singapore, but I needed supplies, money, and a small one-manned boat to escape Batara’s clutches while I regrouped. Singapore was the best place to steal those things.
My attention zoomed around again, peering for any kind of threat or person strolling close to the pier. I closed my lids, taking in a deep breath, my body responding to my order to shift back.
When I reopened my eyes, my naked body was perched on the container, my senses readjusting and centering back into me.
Reaching down behind the barrels, I gathered my clothes, the items reeking of seawater, drying stiffly in the hot weather. Standing up, I pulled them up to my chest.
“I wouldn’t move, lass.” A gun cocked against the back of my head, terror freezing me in place. “Unless you want to lose more than yourclaes.”Clothes.
Terror pumped through my veins, the end of the gun pressing hard into my scalp. How did I miss him? I didn’t pick up his scent or hear him.
“Toss yourclaesto the side and put your hands up, lass.”
“You have to pay for peep shows in Singapore.” I wasn’t anywhere near a prude and had been caught naked more times than not. It came with the territory of shifting and leaving your clothes behind, but I wasn’t a huge fan. It made me feel vulnerable.
“Looks like the show is making house calls.” His Scottish accent revealed he had been away from his motherland for a while. “I said drop ’em.” He cranked the safety off, the sound clipping in the back of my ear.
