Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 144411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
And then there’s the cage in the corner, human-sized.
“I’m sure it’s not as nice as your quarters on the royal ship,” I tell her. “But they do me just fine.”
I let go of her arm and she seems so enthralled by the books and curios I have on the shelves that she’s completely ignoring my collection of weapons to the side. Or maybe that’s what she wants me to think.
“I’ve never seen so many books,” she says breathlessly as she looks around.
“I doubt that. Surely the king and queen have libraries upon libraries in their palaces.”
She gives me a wry look. “Those books don’t count. They’re unreadable.” She slowly walks around, trailing her fingers over the cloth and leather spines. “These are real books. Ones that tell stories, not just someone’s boring lineage.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m glad you’re impressed.”
That makes her features harden. Somehow that look makes her even more beautiful. “I’m only impressed because you’re a pirate,” she says.
“And you think the lot of us are illiterate imbeciles?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Fair enough. And that might be true for most of the rogue marauders you may meet, but the crew of the Nightwind is more intelligent than you’ll ever give us credit for.”
The skepticism remains on her face. “If you think intelligence is some sort of virtue for a man who has a cage in his room, you’re more daft than I thought.”
I chuckle and head to the windows, peering out. “Darling, you’ll find that we’re all unhinged on this ship. They don’t call us the Devil’s Brethren sometimes for—”
But before I can finish my words, I realize the mistake I’ve made. I hear the blade of a sword being unsheathed and no doubt pointed in my direction.
CHAPTER 6
Maren
I have the cutlass pointed straight at Captain Battista. There’s a table between us but even so, it feels good to have a weapon in my hand. I may not know how to fight well with a sword—I’d only been indulged in fencing on a few occasions and by none other than my father-in-law the king—who was rather tickled by my interest in combat—but I feel I could do some damage if it came to it.
The captain turns around slowly and eyes the sword, acknowledging it with a raise of his dark brow.
“I figured all the fawning over literature was a rouse.”
“It wasn’t a rouse,” I say, gritting my teeth as I grip the handle of the cutlass harder. “But I’m also not an idiot.”
He folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the windows. Despite the size of the room, he’s a commanding presence in it. Dressed in black breeches and boots, a crisp white shirt, and a dark brown leather holster that crisscrosses over his chest and back with lots of weapons and buckles, he looks like he belongs here. He looks the type that would spend the evening flipping open the tomes with his large silver-ringed hands and blasting people’s brains out with the twitch of a pistol. He also looks like a man who would have a cage in his chambers fit for a human, but he’d probably offer them some food and drink from time to time. Maybe even read to them.
Then there’s the other things in his quarters that I find intriguing. The crystals. Jars of herbs and salt. Collections of shells and bones. Black candles. The artifacts that only a witch would have. Why does he have them? Does he use them? Does he possess magic too? He admitted outright that there is magic in the Nightwind’s sails to account for how she goes so fast. How did he get that magic? Is he a witch of sorts? It would explain so much.
“So, what are you planning to do, Your Highness?” he says, with a feigned bow. I flinch at the movement, the sword vibrating in my hand, but he doesn’t make a move for any of the weapons on him.
My plan is simple and made up on the spot. “I want you to let me jump off the ship. I’ll walk the plank, I don’t care, so as long as you let me go.”
He snorts. “Walk the plank.” He gives me a dry look and tilt of his head. “We don’t do that here.”
“I don’t give a damn what you do here,” I seethe, finding courage from deep down. “But if you don’t let me go so I can swim to land, I’ll end you.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up and if I didn’t want to drive the sword right through the middle of him, I’d think he was almost handsome.
He throws his arms wide, displaying the wide breadth of his chest. “Then end me, darling. I’m not going to fight you.”
“You’re a most infuriating pirate,” I say gruffly, taking a step around the table.