All around me the horrors continued. I realized then that if I had thrown it overboard, the battle would never end. Neither side would be willing to give up, convinced the other still had it. It wasn’t a matter of destroying it. The real issue was whose hands I wanted the medallion to end up in once I was gone. I had to choose where the necklace belonged, and that, unquestionably, was with the navy. Once they had it, the fighting would end and no else would die. Except for me, of course.
“Cut the blasted ropes! Don’t allow any more of them onto the ship!” the captain yelled.
My eyes swung to the other vessel that was a hair’s breadth away from ours, fastened with three thick ropes. I recognized the ship that had come after the medallion. It was the Thunderhead. If I was going to defect to the navy, it had to be now. The blood oath would kill me for leaving, but I knew death was coming for me no matter what choice I made.
There was only a moment in which to act. I had no idea where Dorian was and I didn't care. All I knew was that I needed to get aboard the Thunderhead and trust that with my body and the medallion, he’d find a way to save Pearl.
Out of the smoke and fog, another larger naval vessel emerged. It was the Voyage, the admiral’s ship! The admiral was my father’s best friend and my trusted ally, the one who’d taught me to use a blade. I knew to which ship I should run. As it pulled alongside, a naval crewman threw a hook and rope, catching it on the pirate ship.
I grabbed a sword that was still clutched in a dead man’s hand and ran towards the closest of the three ropes that bound us to the Thunderhead. With one blow I cut the first line and moved to the next, slicing it too with a single stroke. I darted to the last rope and swung with all my might, hacking the rope and leaving the quivering blade lodged in the ship’s railing.
The Thunderhead began to drift away and I ran to the other side of the ship, where the grappling hook secured us to the Voyage. The rope’s thick fibers scraped roughly against my palms as I pulled myself up and over the railing.
I straddled the rope, flat on my stomach, and tried scooting toward the navy ship. Almost instantly I lost my balance and swung down, my feet flailing wildly, the skin ripping from my palms as my fingers grasped for purchase on the taut rope. Angry waves rolled beneath me and I closed my eyes, afraid to see their fierceness. One of the pirates shouted to cut the rope and let me drown, but another voice, one that had somehow become familiar called out, “Leave the rope alone!”
William. He watched me, even as he raised his sword against an attack, with a flat and unreadable expression. I felt sickening guilt at abandoning him after the kindness he had shown me and I closed my eyes, wishing I could hide from the hurt in his eyes. As if in response, the misty layer of fog blanketing the sea swelled up to envelop me.
Using all my strength, I heaved my dangling legs upward and hooked my heels over the rough rope and began a hanging, upside-down crawl. With every movement forward I whispered encouragement to myself to keep going. My arms burned and the coarse line dug into my hands, rubbing off more of the skin, so that I left a stain of blood with each grip. My heart hammered so hard I was sure it would give out and I would topple into the ocean. My chest fought for breath; limbs and fingers threatened to give way. I forced my shaking arms to keep going, tears streaming down my face, blood now dripping from my palms.
At length I reached the Voyage where I weakly pulled myself aboard and collapsed onto the deck. I heaved myself up, grabbed the rope and unwound it from the cleat, letting the bloodstained coils fall and sink into the ocean. My gray hair whipped in the wind as the ships separated and sailed free. My eyes searched for William across the widening chasm but could no longer see him.
“Cutting us adrift?” a voice asked as an arm grabbed me roughly around my elbow and a sword poked my back. I raised my hands and turned slowly, ready to face my captor.
“Admiral Ostler,” I said, with relief. I threw my arms around him, holding him close, inhaling his familiar minty scent. Without thought, the etiquette lessons of my youth sprang up even during a battle. “The moonlight blesses me with your presence.”
He pushed me back. My courtly greeting and hug must have surprised him because his eyes narrowed and he examined me closely, his brown eyes taking in every detail from my blood-soaked hands to my startled face and tattered clothes. “Who are you?”
“She’s a pirate,” one of his men said before I could answer.
“I’m not a pirate,” I sputtered hastily. “I need to speak to you in private, Admiral.”
The older man raised an eyebrow. “I saw you come from the pirate ship myself.”
“Yes, I did but—”
A sword pressed against me and the words died in my throat.
“Wait,” I called desperately. “I know what you’re looking for; I know where it is!”
The admiral’s eyes searched mine thoughtfully. “What is it you think we want?”
“You want the medallion.”
The admiral’s wrinkled eyes widened in surprise, and he lowered his sword. “How—” he started to ask before shaking his head. “Come with me. Send up the flares! Call off the Thunderhead!”
He then dragged me with him, the flash and hiss of the flares lighting the sky behind us, until we reached the war room. It was in the center of the officers’ area, the designated quarters for the high-ranking members of the crew. They huddled around a table of maps and charts, and their heads shot up at our noisy entrance. The smell of leather and oil permeated the air. The admiral walked to a cabinet, retrieved some linen strips and returned to me.
“What’s this?” someone asked. I didn’t recognize the older officer with a tidy white beard.
“She claims to know where the medallion is,” Admiral Ostler answered. He gently dabbed at the blood on my wounded hands.
“What do you know of it,” the white bearded man demanded, advancing on me.
“I stole it from the captain,” I said.
“Hand it over then,” he demanded, sticking his hand out.
My hand started to rise to the neck of my shirt but I stopped as remembered Dorian’s warning. If I handed it over now I would have nothing to bargain with. I wanted guarantees about Pearl first. And I didn’t trust anyone other than the admiral.
“I didn’t bring it with me, but I know where it is.” I swallowed as I continued, “I need to speak to the admiral in private first. After that, I’ll give it to you in exchange for—”
“She’s lying,” white beard announced.
The admiral held up a silencing hand. “Exchange?”
“Surely you didn’t expect me to simply hand it over, did you?” I turned to the admiral. “Sir, I must speak with you alone.”
White beard paced in front of me and gestured to my trousers. “This blood on your clothes, it came from one of my men, did it not?”
“Yes.” My voice hitched on the word and my saliva felt thick as I swallowed. I dropped my eyes, tears puddling along my lashes.
“I thought so.” He was silent for a moment as he pondered. “The blood oath you swore to join the pirate crew renders you unable to steal from them.” He raised his eyebrow at me. “Or desert the crew. Which tells me that, like it or not, your loyalty still lies with them.”
“You’re wrong.” I knew part of what he said was true but I had to believe I had some free will left. I had managed to steal the medallion, but maybe since it had been mine in the first place the bond didn’t consider it stealing. That wasn’t important now and I pushed that thought aside.
White beard folded his hands behind his back as he paced around me. I turned and followed his progress, not wanting to let him out of my sight. “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you. You somehow managed to escape the binds of a blood oath, steal from your captain, and desert your crew, and now you want to exchange the medallion for something from us.”
“Correct.”
“You are either very brave or very stupid.”
I wanted to duck
my head but instead I raised my chin. “I’m probably a little of both, sir.”
I heard several people chuckle, including the admiral.
“What is your name?” the admiral asked with a real smile.
“Sheridan,” I replied automatically.
His hands, which had been wrapping my wounds with fresh linen, spasmed. His hawk-like eyes narrowed as he looked at me again, his eyes glistening with a new light. Good, he’d caught the hint. Admiral Ostler had always loved my uncommon middle name—which is why he’d picked it for our training code word.
I pressed on. “All I ask in exchange for the medallion is that you call off this attack and allow a prisoner of the king to go free.”
“Is this prisoner guilty of some crime?” White beard asked.
“No. She’s being held for the crime of another.”
Before the admiral or white-beard could respond a blood-soaked soldier entered the room. He made his way to the admiral and whispered in his ear.
“Are there any other women on that ship?” the white bearded man asked.
“No,” I answered, turning my gaze away from the admiral. “It was just me.”
He rubbed one finger across his mustache. “And who is this prisoner you want saved?”
The admiral cleared his throat and gave a gentle shake of his head, so subtle I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it, but I kept quiet.
“I’m afraid we can’t meet your terms,” the admiral announced. “I know you’re lying, Sheridan.” He circled around me carefully, his eyes searching mine, still glimmering. He knew exactly who I was. “You’ll have to return to your ship.”
What? Confusion swirled through me. My knees began shaking as my hope turned to desperation. This was one of my father’s friends. Why would he send me back to the pirates?
I opened my mouth to beg, to plead with him, but he cut me off before I could speak one word. “Her captain has called a truce.”
A scuffle outside the doors ensued as the captain came in with his arms raised, a bloodied white handkerchief fluttering in a gesture of truce between his fingers. The white handkerchief I had given him in his quarters. Despite the handkerchief's message of peace, the fierceness of the glare he directed at me caused me to step back into the admiral.
“Your son has arranged an exchange for your safe return,” the admiral said.
“He did?” I stared at the captain in shock, knowing in an instant who claimed to be my son.
“Yes, mother,” the captain seethed. “I saw you trying to save us all by giving yourself to the enemy. I couldn’t let you do it.” His voice was dry with sarcasm and his eyes flashed, and in that moment I wondered if I would be allowed to live once we were back aboard his ship.
A woman entered the room, dressed in the robes of a Guardian in training. My throat felt thick as paste, and I prayed my disguise would fool her elementary magical skills.
“It isn’t on the ship,” she announced. “I tried a summoning spell.”
“She claims to know where it is,” white beard said pointing an accusing finger at me.
I felt the captain’s gaze bore into me. “She claims to know where what is?”
The blood drained from my face and I studied the ground.
White beard pressed the fledgling Guardian. “Did she bring it here?”
I started to tell them I had, but the admiral once again shook his head. He didn’t want me to confess that I had it. But why? His act was treasonous, given the fact that he knew my real identity. Didn’t he? Or was I imagining things that weren’t true? Why had he agreed to man a ship specifically launched to hunt me, only to let me go once he had me in his grasp? And if he was sending me back to the pirates with the medallion, how was his own still hanging from his neck?
The medallion heated against my skin and I dropped my head from the Guardian’s gaze, letting my hair fall around my face as I whispered a simple spell to conceal the presence of magic, hoping it would hide both my own power and the spells on the medallion. I didn't know whether it would work since it was a fairly advanced spell, and I had never purposely cast any spell that worked, let alone something so powerful, but I had to try. The admiral grabbed my arm, holding tight, feeling almost feverish.
I felt the Guardian’s searching spell rush over me, leaving my body tingling. My heart beat so hard I thought it might break a rib. The tingles subsided and the Guardian sighed.
“She doesn't have it,” she announced, and my body sagged in silent relief. The admiral released my arm.
“If the medallion isn't with you or on the ship, then where is it?” White Beard asked, strutting toward the captain.
“What medallion?” the captain asked, folding his arms.
“You claimed to know where the medallion was,” the admiral said, turning toward me. “Have you really seen it?” he asked, with an encouraging but subtle head shake.
I decided to trust him to know what he was doing. “No,” I lied, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Then how did you know about the medallion?” White beard asked.
“The men who boarded us, I heard them speaking of it. I thought claiming to have it might stop the fighting.”
“You see. You have the wrong ship,” the captain explained.
The admiral pulled on the sleeve of his coat. “It is as I feared. The Thunderhead attacked the wrong vessel. The description I received from the prince doesn’t match the ship. The color is wrong, as are the sails. Please accept our apologies. We’ve had some recent unrest and the men are anxious.”
“I believe I’ve seen the ship you’re searching for,” the captain said. “They sail under a similar ensign, but the ship looks completely different.”
The admiral leaned toward the captain. “Can you describe the ship?”
“Bright yellow, though it used to be black, smaller than mine and shabbier, despite the new paint.”
I wondered if he had made that up, or if it was a description of a real ship. If so, I felt sorry for whoever was aboard.
The admiral nodded. “That is how it was described to me by the prince.”
The captain put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard enough for me to wince. “Your crewmen are being returned to you. My mother and I are ready to go.”
I stepped out from under his hand and approached the admiral. “May I stay here, sir?”
The captain stiffened beside me. “That can’t be allowed,” he announced before the admiral could answer. “She's my mother and she’s part of my crew, sworn in with a blood oath. And I’m not letting you go,” he argued, looking directly at me as he muttered the last part of his statement.
The admiral’s eyes flickered between me and the captain, narrowing on the handkerchief the captain held. It was the one I had used to bind his hand, and it was embroidered with my signature emblem. The admiral caught the fabric between his fingers as he slid closer to the captain. He must have recognized it, removing any lingering suspicion he harbored about my identity.
“I’m afraid you must go,” the admiral said, releasing the handkerchief.
I felt tears well up in my eyes. “But—”
“It’s not negotiable,” he snapped. “It is vital that you go.”
“Thank you, sir,” the captain said with a flourish, the handkerchief dancing in his fingers as he bent in a bow. The admiral returned the bow, with a similar odd flick of the wrist, then reached out and shook the captain’s hand.
“May your future journey be a success. It is a rare man who knows he has everything he needs,” the admiral said. “But men are blessed when they recognize what they have is enough. The two of you are free to go.”
I frowned at the admiral’s words. I had heard my father say something similar before his own voyages, but something about the phrasing was off.
The captain nodded. “Thank you.”
The room exploded with tension. “You're letting them go?” one of the officers demanded.
“Are you questioning me?
We searched with summoning spells and it isn’t on the ship. We attacked them without reason.” He then gave my arm to the captain who squeezed it mercilessly.
“Without reason? They're pirates!” White beard hollered, spittle flying from his mouth.
“We have no proof of that.” The admiral lowered his voice so only I could hear him. “I’ll not forget you, Sheridan. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.”
I shot a pleading look at the admiral, begging one last time for sanctuary, but his impassive face showed no sign of relenting.
“Make haste!” the captain ordered, his voice icy with fury. I climbed into the boat that hung hoisted next to the ship, and the captain followed. As soon as the boat was lowered and cast off, the captain spoke. “You’ll row,” he ordered.
With a gulp I grasped the oars, dipped them in the water, and pulled with all my might toward the ship that promised to leave my life in ruins a second time.
Chapter 14
My footsteps reverberated around me with a magnified thud as I stepped onto the deck. I worked hard to keep my face expressionless, free from the fear that shrank my heart. Alone again on the pirates’ ship, my anxiety grew as the moment of my recompense drew nearer.
The crew stared boldly at the captain as they waited to see what he would do. The tattered ensign snapped in the breeze, breaking the silence, and my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
The captain stood a few steps behind me. “What are you staring at me for; get back to your business!” the captain yelled. “Carry these wounded men to sickbay! And the rest of you, clean off this deck!”
The men immediately executed the captain’s orders. Some of the crew were so wounded that it took two or three men to carry them to the doctor. At least one was dead. Joe raised a bucket of water from the ocean and dumped its contents across the deck, sweeping debris and blood out the scuppers and back into the ocean. I stood as still as I could and peeked at the captain, keeping my head forward in hopes that he wouldn’t notice my glance.
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