Page 10 of A Pirate's Pleasure

I’d expected that once I’d shown willing to at least try to free myself, that someone would take pity on me, but it seemed I was invisible to the crew of The Navarino. As for its captain, he was over on the other side of the ship, talking to the man with the long beard, who I’d worked out was The Navarino’s quartermaster.

If I asked Zephyr again, would he do it? Possibly. He might make me beg, though, and I refused to give him the satisfaction. He might have saved me, but he’d made it more than clear that he was already regretting that decision.

My hand slipped, a sharp pain shooting through me as my trusty blade found skin rather than rope. Fuck! That’s what happened when you lost concentration.

Wetness dripped through my fingertips, covering the deck in drops of scarlet. I wrenched my head away from the sight, nausea already unfurling in my gut. A wave of dizziness had me closing my eyes. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop me from feeling—or hearing—more drips of blood as they hit the deck. My reaction to blood was a cross I’d had to bear ever since I was a child. Why? Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? It wasn’t anything I could remember, and every time I’d asked my mother she’d simply said that sometimes these things just happened. There’d been a look in her eyes, though, something that told me I was better off not knowing. It was for that reason that I’d never pushed it. “Zeph! Zephyr?” Nothing.

I hadn’t come this far to bleed to death on the deck of a pirate ship without anyone even noticing. “CAPTAIN CHASE? Some attention if you would be so kind.”

Footsteps. And then someone blocking out the sun. “What did you do?”

My shoulders sagged with relief at hearing Zephyr’s voice. Given the dedication of his crew to treating me like I was invisible, I didn’t get the impression they’d be wholly against me expiring. They’d probably throw me overboard and then head back to Glimmerfield. “I don’t like blood,” I said, my voice coming out weaker than I’d have liked. “It makes me pass out.” The irony of being painted as a murderer wasn’t lost on me. If I had slit someone’s throat, they probably would have found me slumped over the corpse.

“I remember,” Zephyr said, his words surprisingly soft as he pulled me to my feet and turned me, strong hands fiddling with the rope at my wrists. And all the while, that steady drip-drip of blood hitting the deck continued. How much had I lost? A river? Or did it feel a lot worse than it was? My arms were freed, the pain of moving them after having them behind my back for so long, nothing short of excruciating. Zephyr had hold of one of them, though, and he was forcing it above my head.

I opened my eyes to find his face close to mine. Despite the pain and the wooziness, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

Zephyr turned his head to the bearded man, who’d either joined us or had been there all along. “Fetch the surgeon. Fetch West.”

“Going to amputate?” I asked weakly.

“Your tongue maybe,” Zephyr said.

I looked down. It was a mistake, my gaze snagging on the splatters of blood. Far too many of them. And that was when the world went black.

“Lief, darling, don’t cry.” Like any four-year-old given that instruction, I wailed all the louder. “Shhh,” my mother said as she held out her arms. I shrank back behind the tree, hoping to block out the sight of her covered in blood. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did nothing to stop the shivers that wracked my body.

Footsteps. A hand on my shoulder. “I would never have let him hurt you. You’re everything to me.”

We’d been in a tavern, my mother holding tightly to my hand. I’d let go for less than a minute, a huge potted plant in the corner snagging my attention. I’d wanted to touch its leaves and find out if they were as soft as they looked. They had been, and I’d laughed. And then there’d been a man. He’d thrown me over his shoulder and we’d been outside and I wasn’t laughing anymore. Instead, I was calling out for my mother. At least until he’d shifted position to cover my mouth. His hand had been huge, covering half my face, and it had smelled like wet soil after it had rained. I’d cried and cried and it had made no difference.

He’d taken me into the trees, all the while muttering words I didn’t really understand, something about getting a good price for me at the mines, that they needed small bodies that could fit into tiny spaces. And then my mother had been there, her face twisted in an expression I’d never seen before. The man had dropped me as she’d flown at him. They’d struggled together, and I’d cried even harder. The man was much bigger than she was. But then he’d dropped to the ground, his eyes wide and his fingers interlocked over his abdomen. Blood had bubbled between his fingers. Thick and gloopy and so red. My mother had a knife in her hand, the blade also red.

She’d stabbed him again and again. She’d said stuff as well, but I closed my ears to it. Some words were rude, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to listen to bad language. Although, it was usually my mother that said that, so I was a little confused that she was the one doing it. And then the man wasn’t moving anymore, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the night sky.

My mother pulled me into her arms, the feeling of her embrace a comforting familiarity. Except, she was wet and there was a peculiar smell. It was even worse than the man’s hand had smelt. She stroked my hair, though, and that was nice, my hiccupping sobs becoming less frequent. “You’re safe, Lief. No one’s going to hurt you from now on. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be safe in Glimmerfield because no one goes there because of the pirates.”

I pulled my head away from her shoulder. “What’s a pirate?”

She smiled. “A man who likes to prove his manhood by the size of his ship and the amount of guns he has.”

I turned my head. The man was still there. Still unmoving. The grass around him so unnaturally red.

My mother led me over to a tree trunk, her hands trembling. “Can you sit here for me, sweetheart? I have to get rid of the body.”

I lowered myself to sitting, the bark cold and my feet only just reaching the ground. “Get rid of it?”

“Hide it, so that no one finds him until we’re a long way away from here. I doubt anyone will miss him. His sort usually aren’t missed by anyone.”

“His sort?”

My mother was too busy collecting branches and leaves and piling them on top of him to answer. I liked it much more when I could no longer see him. My mother seemed to like it too, if her look of satisfaction was any indication once she’d finished. She took my hand, and I tried not to look at her bloodstained clothing as she tugged me to my feet. “Are we going back to the tavern?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not that one, no.” She swung the arm that held mine. “What do you say to a little adventure instead?”

“What sort of adventure?”

“One where we find a river and go for a paddle.” She cast a quick glance down at her clothes, her mouth settling into a grim line. “And then we could see what forest creatures we could find.”