I point to the second-to-last building on the street. Gray bricks lead up to a thin roof, and several windows let light out into the street. A sign reading The Cat’s Cradle creaks above the door, and I notice two carved cats curled up inside the Cs.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Royce asks.
“It’s inside,” I confirm.
“In there?” Aris lets out a groan.
“What is this place?” I ask.
Aris relaxes his shoulders. “The owner, he’s the one who made the island what it is. This tavern is where the most heartless pirates come to drink. It’s not safe for you in there.”
“Where exactly is the coin?” Royce interrupts.
Even in the darkness of the street, I can feel his eyes on me, boring through to my soul. When I look up into them, all I see is the reflection of my own gold skin glowing faintly in the night.
“I told you, it doesn’t work like that. It could be in a pocket or a shoe or a pouch. I won’t know until I get close enough.” True, I could close my eyes and maybe picture the room as I’d done when I envisioned Captain Skulls, but even then, I couldn’t really describe it well enough to Royce to know where to go.
“There has to be another way,” Aris says. He steps in closer. Our group is attracting unwanted stares from passersby. Every second we spend arguing, we risk more exposure.
One form slips out of the closest tavern and across the street toward us. It’s Rhat.
“Everything okay, Captain?” he asks. “I’ve only got the Cat’s Cradle left to check.”
“We’ve got to get Kora inside there,” Royce says. It’s the first time he says my name without making it sound like a curse. He runs his fingers through his hair and turns to look at the building again, out of which we can hear shouting. It’s hard to tell if the occupants are angry or just having a good time.
If Rhat wonders about why we need to get inside, he doesn’t show it, which must mean Royce told him about my ability to find the gold.
“Sounds like they’ve already had quite a bit to drink,” I say, “which could leave them incapacitated.”
“Or more reckless,” Royce replies.
“We can’t go in there and search everyone,” Aris says. “We need a better plan.” He eyes a group of men who are studying us before going into the Cat’s Cradle.
I wring my hands. “What if we caused some sort of distraction?” I ask. “If we could draw people out here and distract them, they’d be easier to search.” I wish Phipps and Thipps were here. Didn’t they say something about being good at loosening the bottoms of purses?
“The only things pirates would come out of the pub for would be free rum or a fight between two crews, of which we have neither,” Aris explains.
“That’s it.” Royce spins around. “We don’t need to draw them out. We’ll start a fight inside.”
“Captain,” Rhat says, “there are only four of us.”
“It’ll be a controlled fight,” Royce says. He turns to Aris. “You against me. Everyone will be so busy watching us, they won’t notice when Kora and Rhat sneak in during the confusion.” He turns to me. “Kora, once you locate the man who has the coin, signal Rhat, and he’ll take every coin the scoundrel has on him.”
“No,” Aris says, his face hard. I don’t think he’s declining because he doesn’t want a fight—he doesn’t want me going into that tavern with only Rhat to protect me.
“We’ll keep the fight as far from the door as possible.” Royce continues as though he plans imaginary fights every day.
“Any number of things could go wrong,” Aris says. He looks at me as he says it.
“What happened to wanting this trip to be like when we were kids?” Royce cuts in. “Don’t you remember the time we started that brawl in the square so our fathers wouldn’t find out it was us who let all the chickens out of their crates before they could be judged as part of the festival?”
“We were eight,” Aris says. “That was entirely different.”
“We needed a distraction, and it worked.”
“You didn’t even want Kora on the island, and now you want to take her into the Cat’s Cradle while we initiate a fight?” Aris says.
“You know pirate rules,” Royce replies. “You don’t have any crew members in there who will back you. Neither do I. So no one else will step in. We throw a few punches, knock over some tables, toss a few drinks at each other to keep their attention. We only have to worry about being thrown out before Kora and Rhat can find the coin.”
“And you think this will work?” Aris asks.
“Do you have a better plan?” When Aris doesn’t answer, Royce continues. “You go ahead. Find a spot away from the door. I’ll follow in a few minutes.”
Aris opens his mouth to object, then closes it. He turns to me instead, pulling me a few steps from Royce and Rhat.
“If they try to take you away, scream.” The weight of his words rests around me. “Be careful.”
“You too,” I say, careful not to let my gaze shift to Royce. “I don’t think he means to fight fair.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But if I can fight off four men with nothing but a conch shell, I can take him.” That bright smile of his finally returns.
He leans forward and kisses me, the kind of kiss that makes me wish he didn’t have to go anywhere. He presses his hand against my back, pulling me closer, and I let myself lean into him.
When he finally pulls away, I can barely breathe. A blush rises in my cheeks when I realize I can still feel where his lips met mine.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says. I catch the warning in the words. Then he strides into the tavern with his shoulders thrown back.
And I’m left alone with Royce and Rhat.
CHAPTER 15
As soon as Aris disappears into The Cat’s Cradle, I turn back to the others. I’m half expecting them to whisk me away and leave Aris to fend for himself in that den of debauchery. But Royce must want that coin first.
He waits a minute after Aris has entered before he turns to Rhat. “At the first sound of a scuffle, get in and then get out.” With that, he’s gone, disappearing into the building.
I shake my head.
Rhat looks like he wants to say something, but he stays silent, instead turning his attention to the tavern.
After a few moments, shouts erupt inside.
“I guess that’s our cue,” Rhat says.
He tucks me under his arm and steers me toward the pub.
We barely make it inside before we’re hit with shards of a broken chair being smashed over a nearby man’s head. Rhat tries to shield me, and we fall back against the now-closed door.
A bar runs along the left side of the room, while tables and chairs—which are currently being used as both weapons and shields—are situated in the rest of the room. The tavern smells of cheap ale, and the air feels sticky. Everyone has some sort of weapon in their hand and is in the middle of attacking someone else.
The din in the room is unimaginable. Glass bottles break into shards, which are then crunched under stomping feet. Men cry out as they fall to the floor and become covered in the broken glass.
A man with two side-by-side scars in the shape of Xs on his forehead spins Rhat around, but his eyes shift to me.
I realize too late that I shouldn’t have looked up at him. His bulging eyes open and close several times to process what he’s seeing beneath my hood. Before he can react further, Rhat punches him, sending the man reeling back into the fray.
“Where’s the—” Rhat starts to say before another set of hands grab him from behind, sending me off balance as well.
I fall backward, landing on an overturned table. I roll to the side to avoid being crushed by a set of tall black boots, then scramble away, taking shelter under one of the last standing tables. Pain radiates through my palms. A quick look confirms the worst.
Broken glass has torn my gloves to shreds, and small lines of crimson blood stain the f
abric. I pick several bits of glass out of my skin, wincing with each one.
I peek out from under the table looking for anyone familiar. At this point, I’d almost even be happy to see Royce.
It’s like staring into a sea of chaos. Heads duck and reemerge several paces over. Teeth get knocked out and fly through the air. Grunts and groans turn into a form of communication after listening to them long enough. One man stumbles forward, blood trickling out of his mouth and staining his beard. He smiles at me, displaying a gap where his front teeth should be. Then he collapses.
I look up to avoid looking at him.
Along the rafters, several cats perch, their tails hanging down like chandeliers.
I don’t have time to watch them long. When I dare glance down, a break in the chaos reveals a door opposite the one I’d come in. Something tugs inside me. I know that’s where the gold is.
I look at my gloves. Only the fingers are intact. I’ll have to be very, very careful not to touch the gold with my bare skin. But this might be my only chance to get the gold without Royce or Rhat there to take it away from me.
I scan once more for Aris. When I don’t see him—or anyone I recognize—I make a decision I hope I don’t regret and charge toward the door.
I rush through the crowd without incident and shove the door shut behind me. The silence is deafening compared to the room outside.
This part of the building looks to be both the storeroom of the tavern and the owner’s living quarters judging from the pallet laid on the ground with blankets thrown over it. Tall barrels and several crates are stacked under the two small windows at the back of the room. A candle sits on each windowsill, casting flickering light. The bare gray walls close the room in like a miniature fortress.
My eyes adjust to the light while I search for the aura of the missing coin. I spot it coming from some additional blankets strewn about the floor.
I reach for the blankets, but stop. There’s an orange cat curled up in them. The aura is coming from beneath the cat, shining through the floorboards.
The cat whisks its tail back and forth, watching me more intently than Royce does.
I go to reach for it. The cat gets to its feet and hisses before striking a paw in my direction.
I stumble a few feet back.
“Come on, kitty,” I say, holding my hand out to it.
It hisses again.
I hiss back in frustration. I’ve never had much luck with animals back in the palace either, as if even they can sense the curse inside me. My father’s old hunting dogs would howl uncontrollably whenever I got too close. The cats in the stables would hiss and arch their backs at me. Even the horses would thrash if I tried to rub their noses. One poor pageboy was thrown from his mount just because I’d ventured too close one day.
The cat before me continues to whisk its tail back and forth, seemingly counting off the seconds until someone bursts into the room and corners me. Outside the door, men shout, and there’s a loud crashing noise.
I reach for the blanket the cat’s standing on.
The cat’s eyes glint. It leans forward, ready to spring. Its claws dig into the blanket, and I don’t want them digging into me.
I untie my cloak and whip it around in front of me. The cat leaps. I manage to catch it in my cloak, bundling the thick fabric around the animal. It squirms and scratches, trying to break free from the wool, but eventually quiets. In fact, after a few seconds, the cat curls up inside the cloak, and I swear I can hear the cursed thing purring. I place the bundle in the corner, praying the cat doesn’t leap out before I can find the coin.
Rushing back, I kick the blankets out of the way. I try lifting several floorboards until I find one that gives way, and in the darkened hole is a metal box. I pull it up and set it on the floor. The gleam from the coin inside seeps out.
I take a deep breath and flip open the lid. Coins from every nation sit atop several frayed papers. In the middle of the pile is the stolen coin.
It gleams brighter than any currency in the box, inviting me to touch it, to pick it up, but the memory of turning the guard to gold rushes to the forefront of my mind. Hands on either side of the box, I shut my eyes and steady myself.
Standing near the golden table in the tower was one thing. This is entirely another. I’m about to pick up a piece of gold wearing thin gloves. Torn gloves. I haven’t touched gold since that fateful day in the tower, and now that the moment is here, I can’t help but be terrified.
Your father needs you, I remind myself. You can do this.
I reach for the coin before I lose what’s left of my courage. But before I grab it, the door behind me bursts open.
A small man, no taller than me, rushes in. His spectacles rest uneasily on his pointed nose, and an orange glow reflects off the top of his balding head
For a moment, I think the glow is a reflection of either my skin or the coin, but neither could cast light that far.
That’s when I see the source. Behind the man, flames spread across the building and up the rafters long since deserted by the cats. Spilled drinks have caught the tendrils of fire and turned the floor into a maze of flames. I see the brawlers hurrying outside through the smoke that casts the entire room in a dark haze. The cat I threw into the corner makes its own mad dash out the door between the man’s feet.
“He said you might come for the coin,” the man says. He steps in my direction.
I don’t need to bother asking who the man is referring to.
“I was hoping he was right,” he adds. “I’ve heard your veins run gold.”
He produces a small knife, and I take a few steps back. I shut the lid of the box and hold it up defensively.
Another man appears, towering over the little man and blocking the entire doorway with his body.
I clutch the box to my chest. My heart pounds louder the closer the coin gets to it. “The coin belongs to me,” I say. I try to keep my breathing even. From the glimpse I’d gotten of the other room, everyone else has fled. I’m on my own.
“That coin was given to me for services rendered,” the little man replies. He eases further into the room. The bigger man follows.
“Don’t come any closer.” I hold the box like I’m ready to swing it.
“Get me that box back,” the shorter man says to the larger, “and then subdue her.”
The larger man takes a few tentative steps forward.
I’m out of options; the box is the only weapon I have. Without looking, I fling open the lid, reach down, and wrap my fingers around the gold coin.
CHAPTER 16
The cold of the metal seeps through my gloves and chills me to the bone. But I haven’t absorbed it. Not yet. It’s curled up in my fingers, away from the slits in my glove.
The large man spreads his arms wide and lunges for me. I fling the metal box at him. It hits him square in the chest and bounces to the ground, breaking open and scattering its contents across the floor with a clang. The spilled coins reflect the light from the fire in the next room as more smoke pours in.
I’ll never get out that way.
Something in the front of the building explodes, sending shards of wood and glass through the air. My attackers instinctively duck, and I use the distraction to dash backward toward the windows. I toss the candle on the sill over my shoulder before shoving the window open. Cool air rushes across my skin, reviving me.
I launch through the window, barely registering any pain as I roll to the ground. Then I’m on my feet, running. I hold the coin far out in front of me, afraid to let it too close.
There’s a heavy thump behind me, which is followed by even heavier footfalls.
I find myself in some sort of alleyway behind the tavern. Dirt tracks run along the backs of the buildings and are hedged in by a brick wall on the other side.
Coughing, I stumble down the alleyway looking for a way out. But the buildings are connected to one another; no gaps lead back to the main road. And with my skin glowing ever s
o slightly in the darkness, there’s no place I can hide.
Rapid breathing echoes down the alley behind me. His steps fall more quickly than mine.
Up ahead, a small light streaks between two buildings. I beg my legs to carry me toward it and find it’s another alley. I turn down the path and see the main road ahead. As I whip around the corner, I can tell my pursuer is only a few steps behind. His arms dart out toward me.
I push harder until I burst into the street. People are everywhere, and I crash into a man before I can stop myself. I barely register his eyebrows shooting up when he sees me before I’m pushing myself off him, weaving farther into the crowd.
People with buckets are running around, shouting to others to join the fight against the fire. When I risk a look back, the large man from the tavern is still there. Still chasing me.
I use my lesser height to my advantage. I duck under arms, trying to stay out of view as I navigate in what I hope is the right direction.
I finally break through most of the crowd and realize I’m not far from the dock. I charge forward, and the crates and barrels stacked on the pier rise before me. The area is deserted. I run along it looking for the dock we’d tied our boat to, but it’s so dark I can’t make out much of anything.
“Thipps,” I whisper. Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the boat? I know I shouldn’t be going back toward Royce’s men, but it’s the only place I can think of to look for Aris.
Footsteps sound on the other side of the crates. Through the slats, the large man appears. And if I can see him, then he can see me. I duck behind a wall of barrels as the man moves onto the dock. The boards creak as he paces slowly along the stacks. Through the small gaps between barrels, I watch as he scans the crates, each step bringing him closer to my hiding place.
I realize I’m clutching the coin over my heart just as a shadow passes over me.
I hold my breath.
The board right in front of my barrels squeaks. My heart stops.
Before I can rethink my plan, I surge forward, sending the empty barrels flying into my pursuer. He stumbles off the dock and into the water.
A Touch of Gold Page 13