Tricia Levenseller

Because pirates aren’t supposed to look like you look and talk like you talk and do what you do. You’re confusing, and it’s messing with my head.

“Then do your worst now, lass.”

Let’s get one thing straight, Alosa. You are my prisoner.

She protects her own.

The gangplank is plenty big to walk across without having to try to balance. I could probably do it with my eyes closed. Still, its width is small enough that I’m tempted to give Riden a slight push.

As if sensing this, he says, “Don’t even think about it.”

“I already did.”

“I could have you shot.”

“Your gun would have a hard time working once it’s wet.”

“I didn’t say I had to be the one to shoot.”

“But let’s face it, you’d like that pleasure for yourself.”

He smiles.

The smell is much better here than back on the Night Farer. Why couldn’t Draxen’s men show more aptitude for personal hygiene? Truly, it benefits everyone on board.

Riden interrupts my line of thinking. “Now, Alosa, would be a good time for you to employ that same tactic you demonstrated when we first met.”

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like to handle this one yourself? I’m just ‘the girl.’”

“Stay where you are or I’ll kill him.”

I roll my eyes. “Go right ahead. You’d save me the trouble.”

I’m not sure whether I should laugh or not at his confusion. “What?”

“I’m being held prisoner by pirates. If you say more of your men are coming, then you can help me. We can use him as leverage as was suggested before.”

He looks to his fallen shipmates.

“Sorry about that. I don’t like being held against my will. Now please. Say you’ll help me.”

Riden stands up straight. His mouth is slightly ajar, his eyes wide. “I thought you … I thought—”

“You thought I’d really turned on you. Probably should have, but oh well. Too late for that now.”