Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

  A siren can no longer reach her, that's true.

  If the sirens want her, they'll need help. A pirate is the only one they can actually trust. But a normal pirate, under normal circumstances, wouldn't be willing to align themselves with a siren. They wouldn't be that stupid.

  What did they promise him?

  Rosemera grabs my arm again, pulling me back to face her. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I swear I’ll gut you and be done with it."

  I take in a long deep breath. "Do you know of the prophecy?"

  She tilts her head slightly.

  "About me."

  She takes in a long breath. "I've heard of one. Didn't think there was any merit to it."

  "There is."

  She bites her lip, staring out over the water, thinking it through. "Okay. It had something to do with a way to control you, the 'son of the sea.'"

  I nod. "A few have come to believe Whitley is the subject of that prophecy. We don't know how or why, but the signs fit." Too many for comfort.

  "So she... can control you?"

  I shrug. "But if it's true and Stede gets a hold of her..."

  "It’s over for you."

  The crew doesn't seem much bothered by our conversation or seeing Stede at port. A few whispered rumors float by, but the crew is too relieved to have escaped our risky endeavor without losing anything of worth. They continue their work, swigging rum as they go.

  "Does it even make sense, though?" Rosemera whispers, looking back at the city skyline, growing smaller in the distance. "That he would risk everything just to control you? No offense, but that doesn't sound like a worthy enough prize."

  "It's not.” I pause. “There’s more to this even I don’t know. What I am sure of is that Whitley is the key to that prophecy and they’re after her.”

  Maybe my powers are bigger and more important than I realized. Maybe there’s something else I’m missing. Something big.

  Rosemera is quiet for a long time, staring out at the sea.

  Then, all of a sudden she comes to some silent conclusion and jumps into action. She rushes to the edge of ship, shouting several commands to the crew.

  "What are you doing?" I ask, following her.

  Without hesitation three of the crew pull over a longboat, ready to drop it into the rocking water below.

  She turns to me, her eyes bright and eager. "All those questions, they don't matter. Stede is going after Whitley, you know that much."

  I nod, clenching my jaw.

  "So you're going after her. That's all there is to it."

  I shake my head. "No, there is way more to it."

  She turns to the crew and tells them to wait before lowering the boat to the water then she takes a step toward me. "Listen, I could list a hundred reasons why you can't stay here and just wait to find out what happens. The crew won't risk docking here again. It was a close enough call as it is. But you can. Get in this little row boat and go into that city. Make sure she's safe."

  I take in a long breath. "I don't want to," I whisper.

  Her face falls into something like sympathy. "Does that really matter? I know you care about her, Bluff. Whether you want to admit it or not. And even if you want to deny that all day, you can't let Stede get his hands on her. There is no other choice."

  Anger and pain and fear swell in my chest. I don't want to see her again. I don't want to see her happy and in love with her stupid fiancé. But Rosemera is right.

  "Wait, just a minute,” Rosemera says and then sprints across the ship. Perhaps to update her father of my departure?

  I wait patiently, taking the moment to think through what it would be like to just sail away. Forget the paddle boat, and big city. Just accept the sea that wants so badly to control my every move. Just let go.

  I must shake my mind free of the gripping fantasy when Rosemera comes back, jogging and carrying a bag over her shoulder. "Come on," is all she says, lifting her leg over the railing as if she were the one climbing into the boat.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I can't let you go on your own, can I?"

  "Um, yes. Yes, you can."

  The captain comes walking up slowly, boots clunking over the wooden deck. I blink at everything happening. So fast.

  "Bye, Papa," Rosemera says softly over the railing. No tears or even a hug. "I'll see you soon."

  He smiles adoringly, then turns to me. "You joining her, lad? Or letting a lady do the hard work for ya?"

  A few of the crew chuckle behind him.

  I blink. "I can't take care of her. I'm in over my head as it is," I say quickly.

  A larger smile spreads across his face. "I'm not hoping you'll take care of her, boy. I'm expecting she'll take care of you. You're gonna need it, from what I hear."

  I cough out a breath. "I can't deny that."

  "So, off you go."

  I sigh, and then without another moment of thought I hop into the boat next to a beaming Rosemera, and we are slowly lowered away from the ship and into the dark harbor.

  Whitley

  I lay my head against Jeb's shoulder, cheek rubbing the stiff fabric of his navy blazer. I wrap my arms around him, sincerely relieved to have someone I trust near me.

  But my heart is broken.

  My closeness is out of desire to hide my sadness. Inside, my soul is shifting, twisting, and turning, unable to discover just how to be comfortable in a place that was once my sole comfort.

  This huge building—cold and stiff but intricately decorated into a juxtaposition of classic and modern fashion— was the one place I imagined my life leading to something resembling happiness.

  Now when I close my eyes, I picture the vast openness of the sea.

  "Are you all right?" he whispers into my hair.

  I know this much closeness makes him uncomfortable, but I refuse to pull away and show him the tears in my eyes. We barely touched for the entire duration of our courtship, and I could never quite figure out if it was due to fear of retribution—his mother was severe in her expectations of modesty and propriety—or if he was sincerely put off by intimacy all together.

  That never really mattered though, because the value of our relationship was never in the physical, nor even in the romantic. We were friends. We confided in one another. I was a shield against his parents’ harshness—they loved me and my father, though why was difficult to tell—and he was an escape, a way out.

  My father's obsession with infiltrating high society led him to extreme measures on occasion, and I knew those measures would include me sooner or later. A pretty daughter was a huge asset. I would be married to someone of high standing. It didn't really matter who.

  More than once he'd implied a desire for me to become friendly with Mr. Robinson, a man older than my father—and twice as cruel, if the rumors were true. And the expressions on his servants’ faces told me they were.

  More than once, I'd considered running away. When I turned ten, my father made enough money to buy a flat downtown and hired a maid who told me stories about girls living on the streets of New York, and they were not comforting tales. But even those threats were favorable to the threat of marriage to an awful man.

  Then, when he learned my childhood friend, who I spent too much time 'rolling around in the mud' with, was the heir to his parent’s old money and well-established estate, my father's focus shifted. And the moment his interest in courting me was established, all that stress fell away like dirt in a warm bath.

  My father's countenance changed, for a time. He was... proud. He had tea in the Harrison’s parlor, schmoozing Jeb's father, bonding over cigars and scotch, while Jeb and I played hide and seek and truth or dare in his massive home.

  Just to have a future with someone I cared for, somewhere I felt comfortable—while still pleasing my father—was a dream I had thought lost to me.

  That's why I loved Jeb. He was my hope.

  But that was until I saw that there was so much more to life. So much more to this world.
/>
  And now I can't get it out of my head.

  I finally loosen my grasp of Jeb's shoulders and he pulls away.

  "Tell me what happened. I was very worried."

  I swallow. "Father got in some trouble, I guess. He hastened us away to a town on the coast. But his trouble followed us and—"

  "What kind of trouble was so terrible that he had to flee? We could have helped."

  Jeb's father appears in the parlor doorway, clearing his throat as he approaches with slow quiet steps, his face flat. "No, we couldn't have.”

  Jeb whips around to face his father. "What do you mean? You knew?"

  "It wasn't the kind of trouble that could be fixed with a good reputation, and we didn't have the money—"

  "What do you mean? We have plenty of money."

  "We have plenty for what we need, but you have no idea how much it would have taken to free that man from the hole he'd dug for himself. Not nearly enough to be worth—"

  "It's all right, Mr. Harrison," I cut him off, knowing the rest of his sentence was not going to be kind to me, and that would only cause Jeb to defend me further, helping no one. I take in a long shaky breath. "It shouldn't have been your responsibility to fix his problems."

  He looks down at his feet. "Yes."

  "But did you know they were leaving? Or where they went?" Jeb asks with a raised voice.

  "No. He'd been planning his contingency plan for a very long while, that much was clear. But he fled too suddenly to know much of anything. And by then, I didn't much care."

  I wince, not liking the look on his face. Is he no longer interested in allowing me to marry his son?

  Is that even what I want?

  No. That was actually an easy answer. But even so, I’m not sure what my other choices are. Bluff and Rosemera are gone. I have no more allies.

  If only I'd refused to leave so easily. If only I'd jumped into the sea with the sirens. I shiver at that thought. All right, maybe nothing that extreme.

  "What does that mean? You didn't care about Whitley?"

  "If her father was that much trouble... she wasn't worth crossing the mob."

  Jeb clenches his fist, but I place a gentle hand on his forearm. "It's all right."

  He turns to me. "How can it be?"

  "Because he's right. My father made his bed, and getting involved would have only dragged you down too."

  He shakes his head. "We could have come with you, then."

  I shrug. "Perhaps. But it doesn't matter now. My father is gone. I don't know nor care where he is. I am here."

  Jeb pinches the bridge of his nose.

  "I vastly misjudged your father." I look up to see a kind smile on Mr. Harrison’s face. “But apparently not so much with you.” He was much softer than Mrs. Harrison, and I still worried about what her reaction would be.

  "How?" Jeb asks, ignoring his father, looking me in the eye. "How did you get back? I heard something about a pirate ship?"

  I smirk. "It's a long story."

  "And you'll have a very long time to tell it," his father says, placing his hand firmly on Jeb's shoulder. "Let the girl rest and get cleaned up. She clearly needs it." He wrinkles his nose, and I almost laugh. "There is a ball two nights from now. You should both appear, show nothing is amiss. If you're going to continue your courtship, we'll need a good story about your absence and unconventional return. If indeed The Spectator decides to print the story, it will need to be well planned."

  “The Spectator? Really?” I ask. Was I really that important to have drawn the interest of the upper-class gossip magazine?

  Mr. Harrison nods. “So say the rumors.”

  Jeb takes in one long deep breath then turns to face his father. "Very well," he says quietly. He doesn't seem to have forgiven his father, but accepts his plan. I find it very forgiving, myself.

  Now comes my biggest test.

  Can I fit back in here? Jump back into high society life like I haven't tasted true freedom and life-changing passion?

  My heart aches as I close my eyes, and I am met with the rock of a ship, the crash of the waves, and the gentle kiss of salty air.

  Bluff

  Rosemera slips through the alleys of the city like an experienced thief, skidding in and out of the shadows. I follow right behind her.

  “This place is so big!” she whispers as we reach a busy intersection. The chattering of the crowds fills the air around us. “And crowded.”

  She lives for moments like this, I realize.

  She and I have several things in common. We were born and raised on ships, and though we’ve each spent some time living on land, most of our lives have been given to the high seas. To her, that makes this a rare adventure. A new place to explore.

  To me, it’s an annoyance. I have no desire to be part of a place like this. Cities are all the same, full of high society asses who have way more than they need, and the poor, fighting for survival. Both are unpleasant things to witness.

  “We should avoid busy places, at least until we get you a change of clothes,” I tell her.

  She looks down her body—doublet, leather vest and waist belt adorned with several obvious weapons. If only we’d have the forethought to change back into our traditional clothing before leaving the ship. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asks.

  I smile. “You look like a pirate. That’s what’s wrong. You’ll stand out too much.”

  She crosses her arms. “And you?”

  I chuckle and without breaking eye contact change my clothes to a dapper woolen suit and bow tie.

  “Show off.”

  “If we can find a market, I can buy you some clothes.”

  We pass into another shadowed alley. The brick walls on both sides shoot so far up, I must shield my eyes from the sunlight to see the tops. At least five stories, these are behemoth buildings and the city is full of them. On the corner of one of the buildings, is a red design, nearly a foot in height.

  Rosemera flies past the paint without a second glance, so I miss the opportunity to examine it. We simply keep rushing through the shaded alleys, travelling farther into the city.

  “How do you think we’ll find her fiancé?”

  I swallow, ignoring the way my gut wrenches at the word. “We can kill two birds at the market. Get you some high-society clothing and hope for a few rumors. Shouldn’t be too hard.” She nods, walking slower now. “Any idea where the market is?”

  “Nope.”

  She chuckles.

  A figure stands at the edge of the alley and we both come to an abrupt stop.

  Rosemera doesn’t speak, but her hand drifts to her belt.

  The man is large in stature but is too far away to tell much else. When he doesn’t speak for several long moments, I decide to break the silence. “Hello there, fellow.”

  “Fellow?” He tilts his head, giving me an expression that tells me he thinks me a moron.

  I shrug. Sounded good at the moment.

  “You’re in the wrong place, fellow,” he says with a curl of his lip as he approaches. I register the pistol in his hand only as he points it right at us.

  Rosemera must notice it before I do, because before I can even speak out a warning, she shoves my body into the wall as a shot rings out, missing us both—barely.

  Then she acts, running the last few feet to reach the man, and I leap after her. She knocks the gun from his hand, and he hollers, grabbing her by the hair. I grab my own pistol and shoot. He dodges it but loses his grip on Rosemera in the process. She swings out a leg, and I shove his body back, sending him flying to the hard ground. Rose jumps over him, slitting his throat before he utters another word.

  She stands there, panting. “What the hell was that?” she asks.

  “I suspect we just had our first run-in with the mob,” I tell her. “We should leave before we meet more.”

  Footsteps echo down the alley, and we rush the other direction.

  Whitley

  My despair only grows as th
e salt is rinsed from my skin and my hair is untangled, washed and pinned to perfection. The pins pinch my hair, the laces of my corset pull my body into perfect form—because its natural state isn't good enough.

  I stare in the mirror, realizing how much I hate everything I see.

  I don't want this.

  It's the thought I haven’t been able to get out of my head the entire day. Every polite conversation I force my way through, I must fight the words from breaking free of the prison I've formed for my true self. Those walls are not near as strong as they once were.

  None of this is any different than before. The fashion and snooty looks, the hidden motives and scrutiny. It's just, now, my soul has tasted freedom, and I cannot seem to tame the desire for more.

  I'm barely here, as servants dote on me, as decorations are set and the music begins. As guests arrive and the polite questions, full of thinly veiled intentions, bombard me. As Jeb asks me to dance, his hand stiff in mine.

  My mind is elsewhere.

  "You still seem off."

  "A little," I say lightly, looking past him at the intricate fake world they've created.

  "Why won't you tell me what it is? What happened while you were gone?"

  "It's nothing. Nothing happened, I just..." am unhappy here.

  I still care for him, he's still the friend he always was. But now, he could never fully understand. If I told him how I continually dream of the sea. Of Bluff...

  I shake off the thought.

  He leans in, and whispers in my ear with a low serious voice, "If you continue to act strangely, people will talk. Mother says it's already questionable that you made it out of your situation... unscathed."

  He leans back for a moment, eyes blank as we continue to move with the music. My mind is frozen, my heart still. My body simply following the motions.

  Jeb finally meets my gaze with a soft expression. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If something bad happened? I wouldn't... It wouldn't change my mind."

  I take in a deep breath. But what if it’s changed mine?