Page 50 of A Pirate's Pleasure

I’d always thought that Lief truly knew me, that he understood. Apparently, he never had. “Treasure’s just a tiny part of it, the icing on the cake. It’s about the adventure, the exploration, the freedom. There are so many places I want to travel to. People I haven’t met yet. Things I want to do.”

“I see.”

Lief didn’t look like he saw at all. He looked like someone had just slapped him. This time it was me that took his hands, my expression pleading. “Come with me. We can experience it together. If you don’t understand it yet, you will. Let me show you. Things are always less colorful, less rich when you’re not with me to share it. We don’t need a big house to be happy. We just need each other. Right? That’s all we’ve ever needed.”

Lief was already shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be happy at sea.”

“I wouldn’t be happy living in a big house with servants and nothing to do all day.”

“I love you,” Lief said, his tone one that said that it should be enough.

“I love you too.” It wasn’t enough, though, was it? After three happy years together—more if you counted the years of friendship that had preceded it—life had dumped a huge dose of reality on our heads. He’d come round, though, wouldn’t he, and start seeing things from my point of view? After all, it wasn’t like I was asking him to give up something he’d ever had. Whereas, he was asking me to give up everything I’d ever worked for. He knew the struggles I’d had convincing Livingston to sign the ship over to me. He knew the difficulties I’d had in recruiting a crew because of my young age.

Lief would think things through, and he’d back down. He had to, because the alternative was too horrific to think about. We belonged together. We were a pair. An unstoppable force against the world. I just needed to have faith in him.

My wandering thoughts had me seeing Lief at the window when I opened my eyes. Well… kind of. My delusions had made him look like a pirate, complete with a black bandanna tied around his head, a cutlass at his waist, and a gold earring in his ear that Lief would never have agreed to. It was the Lief he could have been if he hadn’t sneaked away to his new life in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. It was a pleasant fantasy, even if it erred on the side of ridiculous.

Chapter Twenty

Zephyr

Lief placed his hand against the window, his fingers splayed, and I fitted mine against it, the cold glass pressing back. I smiled at him, but he didn’t return it. What good was a delusion if I couldn’t make it do what I wanted? I’d made him look like a pirate, so surely I could make him smile, too. I willed it to happen, but Lief’s expression only clouded over more, those handsome features of his marred by a frown.

He stood on tiptoes, his aim to look over my shoulder. I turned, but there was nothing there. There wouldn’t be. Not when I was the only one in the house, unless you counted the skulls. And I knew from experience what poor company they were, our conversations terribly one-sided. When I turned back, Lief mouthed something, and it was my turn to frown as I concentrated on working out what he was trying to say, shaking my head when I struggled the first time.

He slowed down, enunciating his words more clearly. “Where is he?”

He? Lucretius? Wait! Something bubbled in my chest. Something that threatened to grow out of control if I let it. It was hope and optimism and relief all rolled into one. Was this real? Was Lief really here? How? How could he have found me when I didn’t even know where I was?

And then Whitby appeared next to him at the window. While I had great affection for Whitby—it was the reason I’d made him my quartermaster after all—I couldn’t imagine any scenario where my delusions would include him. And, unlike Lief, he looked the same in every single way. The beard. The single pierced ear. The broad shoulders his coat struggled to contain.

Lief was here. Lief, who I hadn’t thought to see again, but who featured in my dreams regularly, and made me wake with a smile on my face, until a shelf full of skulls brought reality crashing back and wiped it away, was here. I pressed my hand to the window and Lief touched his fingers to mine. And this time, I got a smile from him, my chest filling with a peculiar lightness. Somehow, and I didn’t know how, they’d tracked me down. If they were both here, it stood to reason that the entire crew of The Navarino was also here.

Lief mouthed something else, the window too thick for sound to carry through it. One thing you couldn’t accuse Lucretius of was not being thorough in his efforts to turn this place into a fortress. The windows didn’t open without the use of magic and didn’t allow for any communication that didn’t involve lip reading—a skill I’d never had much cause to practice until now.

Eventually, on the third or fourth time of Lief repeating it, I worked out it was the same question from earlier, the one about Lucretius’ whereabouts that I still hadn’t answered. Whitby and Lief’s concern that the harpy could appear at any moment was understandable.

“He’s not here,” I mouthed back.

Lief, who was apparently much better at lip reading than I was, nodded to show he understood, relief bleeding into his expression. “Come outside,” he mouthed.

I shook my head to show it wasn’t possible. A brief conversation ensued between Lief and Whitby, all of it too fast for me to work out anything more than the occasional word, which told me nothing. Conversation concluded, Whitby disappeared out of view, a rattling and banging of the door ensuing. I already knew his endeavors were hopeless even before he reappeared shaking his head. The door was solid wood and reinforced, another thing Lucretius had taken no chances with.

“The key?” Lief mouthed. I gave another shake of my head.

He took a few steps back and narrowed his eyes at the window as if sizing it up. “Magic?” he asked, repeating it a few times before I worked out the word.

I held my hands up to show the manacles, angling them so he and Whitby could see the runes engraved on the underside. Lief would have seen that my hands were bound when I’d pressed my palm to his against the window, but he wouldn’t have known the secondary purpose they served.

He grimaced before bending over and searching the ground. When he straightened, it was with a large rock clutched in his hand. He heaved it against the window, the glass not obliging with even a crack under the onslaught. That didn’t deter Lief, though. He’d never been in the habit of giving up at the first hurdle. He hit it again. And again.

I scanned the room for something useful, my gaze falling on the statue in the corner. It had to be better than the rock Lief was using. It was big enough that maneuvering it over to the window, especially with manacled hands, was challenging. By the time I had it where I needed it, Whitby had also located a rock and joined in, taking over when Lief stopped for a breather. Using the statue like a battering ram, I hit the window in the same spot but from the other side. On the third such blow, a tiny crack appeared, Lief seeing it and joining back in with renewed vigor, the three of us working together to grow the tiny crack into something more substantial.

It did grow, but it was a painfully slow process, especially knowing that Lucretius could return at any moment. Sometimes he was gone all day. But often, it was just a few hours, and he’d already been gone for at least three. Had he said how long he’d be? Possibly. But if so, I hadn’t been listening. It hadn’t seemed important, time becoming a concept that held no meaning. Now, though, it was the most important thing in the world. It was the difference between us finding a way through this window and being able to escape, and Lucretius catching us in the act. And if he did, all his previous instances of fury would pale into insignificance compared to what he’d do. And he would hold Lief and Whitby accountable for it.

Sweat poured off me in droves, my arms aching with the effort that lifting the heavy statue required. I wouldn’t stop, though. I couldn’t. Not now I’d had a brief taste of freedom. I wanted more. I wanted my life back. A life not dictated by the whims of a monster and his ever-changing moods. Maybe even one with Lief.

The crack had become a small hole, several splinters running off from it, but the window still refused to break entirely. And then, with one last blow of the statue, the head of it I’d been using as a battering ram looking the worse for wear, the window exploded. I stumbled backwards, covering my eyes as multiple shards of glass rained down on me.