Belle and the Pirate

by Vivienne Savage

  Pride and honor wouldn’t allow James to stab a man in the back, but he had no qualms about disabling his woeful adversary. Afterward, he sheathed his sword and smiled down at his foe. Where only moments ago there had been complete bedlam on the deck, the ship’s crew had been reduced to a few survivors on the verge of surrender. No one came to the captain’s aid, despite his desperate attempts to stand.

  “A coward never prospers, el’Vartellan. Let this be a moment the sea never forgets, the day the Golden Goose descended from grace.”

  Captain el’Vartellan twisted on the ground and glowered up at him with hate-filled eyes. “They’ll come for you. My countrymen won’t rest until you’ve danced the gallows jig.”

  “A true captain remains with his crew until the end,” James said. He drew his pistol and aimed between his rival’s eyes. “I consider this my only courtesy to you.”

  As his pirates laid claim to the Golden Goose, Captain Hook pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  Tink had been in darkness for a long time, unable to count the days she’d been captive inside the exquisite little house. While she’d never seen a contraption so beautiful before, she wondered if it would be where she met her end.

  Would Conall miss her? Maybe he’d forget about her in a year or so, so wrapped up in his little one and new wife that his old companion faded to the far recesses of his memories.

  No, Conall wouldn’t forget me. She had better faith in him than that, but of course, memories amounted to nothing when they lacked the power to free her from captivity. Alone and afraid, she huddled in the darkness.

  It was a perfect miniature of a noble home or castle, both a dollhouse and a cage, although the fore wall consisted of gilded bars. She’d been lying upon one of the beds dozing in and out of sleep when something jostled the container and shook her all about. She screamed and held onto a bed post while a noisy clamor occurred outside. Had they entered a warzone?

  Some time passed before the muffled sounds of combat diminished and her surroundings quieted. The cage shifted once more, tilted, and then dropped on its side. Tink stumbled backward, unable to regain her footing and forced to hover in place. A man’s muffled voice reached her through the gilded prison’s walls, and then her cage moved again with the distinctive rhythm of a human’s stride. Eventually, the movement stopped and more voices joined the initial speaker. An excited man whooped in the distance until the door clicked shut and muted the extraneous noises.

  “Looks like a phoenix,” someone murmured. The man’s silky voice caressed her senses.

  While fae understood the spoken tongue of all mortals across the world, Tink couldn’t recall ever hearing this language before. Intrigued, she plastered her body against the golden bars securing the front half of her fairy house and listened.

  “Shall we set it free when we reach land?” another man asked.

  “Doubt it’ll be able to survive on its own now. The Liangese like to hobble them by frost-burning the muscles beneath the wings with ice magic. Brutal business it is, to damage something so beautiful,” the initial speaker said. He had a gentle voice, masculine and pleasant to her ears.

  “Can I have this one, Captain?” a third man asked. “Always been fond of exotic birds, and as you said, this poor beast won’t survive in the wild anymore.”

  “I’m not sure it’s wise to keep a firebird on the ship, Callum,” the man with the velvet voice answered.

  “As if I’d be so foolish,” Callum said after a snort. “No, I’ll leave this one back home with Primrose and Calla. They’ll take good care of her.”

  “Go ahead, then,” the captain said. “What else do you suppose we’ll find?”

  “No idea. I feel bad for the bloody tiger, though. The poor thing is cramped in that tiny cage. We’ll have to set it loose at once when we reach an adequate place to free him.”

  “Take your bird to your quarters and help Nigel with the tiger, since you feel so strongly for it. Do your best to keep the animal alive until we reach Ankirith. Joaidane will know what to do.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Footsteps passed close by her then faded away. A few moments later, three loud thumps echoed from outside the box holding her cage. She flinched away from the sound and jarring impact.

  “What’s in this box, Smee?” the captain asked. “Is it something alive? I don’t hear any movement.” He tapped it again.

  “No idea, but I’ve heard it buzzing, so I saved it for last.”

  Light pierced her prison from above, and then her cage moved, swinging upward. Tink shrank back against the dollhouse wall and prepared herself for the worst. Once her eyes adjusted to the brighter room, her vision treated her to the sight of lavish surroundings. Four diamond-patterned windows ran along a single wall, each one so close together, they seemed to form one larger viewport. The smoky glass allowed in the light but kept it dim. Sumptuous drapes and heavy tapestries hung on the wood-paneled walls. Wealth gleamed from every corner, reminding Tink of her visits to Castle TalDrach.

  Was she in a palace?

  “Well, would you look at that. It’s like a dollhouse and a cage in one. Another bird, you think?” The closest human wore a pair of spectacles on his reddened nose. He leaned in close and pressed his face against the bars. “I don’t see anything.”

  When Smee tapped his nails against the bars, they resonated at a thunderous volume in the tiny space around her. He shook the whole thing, jostling Tink from her hiding spot. She tumbled out and flew around in a panic. “There it is! I’ve found—”

  Tink zipped across the cage and jabbed him with her dagger.

  “Ah! It bit me!” Smee cried.

  The taller man behind him laughed. “Won’t that teach you to poke your big nose where it doesn’t belong?”

  Smee rubbed his face and glared at her. Only a tiny droplet of blood had welled from the cut. “You should toss it overboard, Captain. It’s feral, it is. Look how it glows red, like a wee devil.”

  Something about the tall man they called “Captain” reminded Tink of Conall. He had kind eyes, bluer than a cloudless sky, and they crinkled at the corners each time he smiled. Messy waves of untamed black hair fell to his broad shoulders, and he wore an unfastened poet shirt tucked into dark trousers. He had become, in only a few seconds, the most handsome man to ever cross her vision.

  “There’s nothing feral about this poor creature, Smee. See? If anything, you frightened it. I can only imagine how terrified it must be, having been taken from its home and kept in darkness.”

  The captain raised her dollhouse and set it on an enormous trunk beside a bed cloaked by heavy layers of burgundy velvet and glossy silk. “I’ll keep it in my quarters for now until we can identify it. How’s that?”

  Smee rubbed his nose again and frowned. “Fine then. It’ll be your funeral, and then Nigel will be the one at the helm directing us,” the man muttered under his breath. He ambled away, leaving Tink alone with the handsome captain.

  “Let me go, you big bully!” she cried up to him.

  He chuckled at her. “You certainly sound angry, but I don’t believe you’re dangerous. Probably a little hungry, but far from dangerous.” He wandered away a few paces to a table decked with a place setting for one. Fruit overflowed from a silver serving bowl in the center. He plucked a golden apple up, buffed it against his shirt, and then sliced a small portion from it before returning to her.

  “I wonder if you’ll eat this…”

  Tink eyed the apple wedge and floated back from the bars. Undeterred, the captain pushed it through and dropped it on the dollhouse’s wooden floor. Too starved to dismiss food after the long and hungry voyage from Liang’s shores, she snatched the tiny morsel and dashed out of sight to hide in one of the only private rooms that wasn’t open to viewing from the outside. The mastermind behind its design had actually created a privy that fed into the rear garden. Flowering ivy crawled up the sides of the dollhouse and sprouted violet blossoms.

&n
bsp; “There now, that’s better.” The captain chuckled and moved away. Tink peeked out in time to see him heading toward a door covered in fanciful engravings. Sunlight flooded the room once he opened it, bringing in the salty tang of the sea and the sound of many voices raised in song. He stepped through and closed the door behind him, shutting out all noise.

  Great, Tink thought. So much for her big adventure.

  Chapter

  WHAT NIGEL AND the crew found aboard the Golden Goose had tempted James to sink the ship and leave no traces of it at all. In fact, nothing would convince him he hadn’t done them an undeserved kindness when the crew of the Jolly Roger left the surviving monsters with only the scraps of spoiled food they’d provided to the slaves imprisoned below deck.

  “How is everyone? Settled?” James asked as he stepped into the galley. Eliza chopped vegetables beside Cook at the counter, a carbon copy of her mother minus wrinkles and gray streaks in her golden hair.

  Eliza’s defined biceps flexed when she dropped the knife and crossed her arms against her chest, both bared by her sleeveless mage robes. She still preferred the attire, even after defecting from the Eisland Navy alongside him. “A few of the youngest have been too scared to eat or drink. Others are starved for real sustenance that isn’t some arsehole’s leftovers.”

  “And the mage boy?” James asked.

  “Petrified of beatings. It took me over an hour to convince the lad I wouldn’t take a strap to him. He’ll mend, but I worry for his heart.”

  “Have you gotten a name, at least?” he asked.

  Eliza’s shoulders sank, and she shook her head. “Be grateful I got him to accept a blanket. Words and names will come in time.”

  “What’s happening out there?” Cook asked. “This is the second ship this month we’ve intercepted filled to the brim with slaves. Practically piled three high, not an inch between them. Most had lice.”

  James grimaced. “Please tell me you’ve taken care of that.”

  “I did. Simple enough remedy. You needn’t worry about it spreading like wildfire among the crew,” Eliza replied. Women of his native country weren’t allowed to learn magic beyond hearth and home, although the kingdom did enjoy pressing them into service aboard the naval ships as healers. When Eliza deserted the navy alongside him, he’d gotten one of the best.

  “I know they aren’t more than annoying pests, but the itching…” He shuddered, much to her amusement. “Will they all survive?”

  Her smile dimmed. “Children are resilient, but as for the adults… the ones who won’t are comfortable now.”

  “Good. If you’re not exhausted, I’d like you to have a look at something in your spare time. No one else seems capable of identifying one of the exotic creatures we liberated from their cargo hold.”

  “Ah.” Eliza glanced at her mother.

  “Go on then. You don’t need my approval. I can chop vegetables without you. You’re only in my way when you try to help.”

  After the older woman nudged her daughter out of the workspace, James led Eliza to his quarters. Only a few members of the crew were welcome to step within, fewer granted permission to enter at any time. He considered Nigel, Eliza, Callum, Cook, and Smee to be among his closest friends, and more than deserving of the privilege to be in his private space.

  “Over there. See the dollhou—”

  Eliza beelined to it. “Oh! The craftsmanship is lovely.” She bent low with both hands on her knees. “Beautiful garden sprouting from the back. And there’s a fountain! What a magnificent work of art.”

  “I didn’t bring you up here to admire the bloody cage,” he grumbled. “Here, this ought to bring the creature out.”

  Passing over the apples, he opted for a blueberry and dropped it between the bars. As predicted, the colorful, glowing blur darted out and snatched it.

  “Oh!” Eliza crouched down for a better look. They watched for a few moments until the fruit disappeared. “Fast little thing.”

  “Indeed.”

  “She’s certainly pretty, James.”

  “Her?” James leaned down and peered closer. The ball of light’s tinkling noises grew louder and more frantic. Fearing he’d terrified it, he jerked back and drew his spine straight. “How can you tell?”

  “When she stops moving, the light doesn’t glow so brightly. The shape is definitely girlish. Like a tiny, flying doll.”

  “Ah. S’pose we ought to keep her then, instead of setting her free?”

  “It might be for the best,” Eliza said. “There’s no tellin’ where she came from. Those accursed Liangese poachers could have taken her from anywhere between Cairn Ocland and Samahara. As for whatever she is, I haven’t a clue. Tiger Lily may be able to tell you once we reach Wai Alei.”

  James sat on the edge of his bed and studied her. He’d never seen such a fanciful little marvel. Disappointment filled him, but he shook it off. It wasn’t Eliza’s fault. They didn’t have such creatures in Eisland, and he’d never seen their like in Wai Alei or the Samaharan ports they frequented.

  Perhaps she’d fallen into his possession by fate, and all of his pleas to the gods for a worthwhile companion had been answered after all.

  “I promise to give you a good life, little one. As good a life as I can until I discover precisely what you are.”

  * * *

  True to his word, James did give Tink a good life, and she wanted for nothing while a guest within his bedroom. He provided two meals each day and no shortage of conversation when he roused each morning and returned to his cabin in the evenings.

  In time, she came to anticipate his visits to the bedside, since the human’s conversation broke the monotony of exploring her dollhouse. Unlike Smee, he seemed unconcerned with her stabbing him in the nose. And the longer she gazed upon him, the less she wanted to cause him harm.

  After all, as far as she could tell, this man meant her no ill will. He could have taken his associate’s advice and tossed her, cage and all.

  Tossed her where? The subtle rocking motion alluded to a boat, introducing Tink to a new experience. As she mused over the possibility, the cabin door opened and shut. James staggered past her with a rum bottle clutched firmly in his left hand, and then he dropped to the edge of the bed.

  “Gods. Why do I keep doing this to myself?” he muttered.

  “I dunno. Why do you?” Tink asked, although her question went unanswered. He took another swig then set it aside before grasping the sides of her dollhouse. It was a ritual she’d come to know over the days of her new life, and she clung to the bars while he set her cage aside on the floor so he could reach the trunk beneath.

  James never opened the trunk until he was deep in his cups and so drunk he barely moved in a straight line across the cabin floor. She never saw exactly what was inside, due to her poor vantage, only that he’d pull out a silver frame and stare at it for a long while without a single word.

  As he started the same process again, Tink sighed and plopped down on a little velvet bench with what tiny bit remained of her dinner. She was tired of fruit, but it was all the captain ever offered.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she? The most beautiful woman in all the lands.”

  Tink looked up, startled by his voice. James had slid down from the bed to sit on the floor beside her cage, silver frame in hand. It held a portrait of a young woman with the palest blonde hair Tink had ever seen. Whether true to reality or a fanciful addition by the artist, the girl’s hair shone silver.

  “I was supposed to marry her, you know,” James continued. “Would have been a prince, I suppose. Imagine that, a vintner’s son marrying into royalty.” He chuckled and exchanged the portrait for the rum bottle. “Not gonna happen now, is it?”

  “No one would marry a drunk.”

  “I wonder what it is you’re saying,” he said. “You just sound like you’re chiming. Ah well, you probably don’t understand a word I’m saying anyway. Not that it matters.” He finished the last of the bottle and set it aside
, reclaiming the portrait before he stumbled to his feet.

  “None of it matters anymore,” he continued. Tink fluttered to the top of the cage and watched him cross to the windows. One of the panes swung outward when he knocked it with his hook.

  “Ah… Rapunzel. I suppose it’s quite time to let you go, isn’t it?” James tossed the portrait through it. A faint splash followed a moment later and joined the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull.

  “You’re going to regret that,” Tink said, though she knew he couldn’t understand her.

  James secured the hidden latch on the window and returned to the bed, where he flopped down without putting her cage back on the trunk. A letter fell from the blankets, the paper wrinkled as if it had been crumpled then smoothed out flat again. Despite her attempts to read it, the looping, exaggerated script foiled her efforts. Sprites may have understood the spoken word of every language, but variances in handwriting made text a challenge.

  “They’ve finally written me.”

  Startled, she snatched her hand back from between the bars where she’d been reaching for the paper, but James hadn’t moved. All she saw was his hook hanging over the edge of the bed.

  “My family has made it clear, after years of my attempts to reach out to them, that I am no longer their son. They burn my letters. I suppose Mother must have taken great satisfaction in adding that line. I’d always hoped…” He sighed. “I don’t know what I hoped. Not this.”

  Looking at the letter, Tink began to understand a little more about the broken, drunken man on the bed. She couldn’t imagine what she’d ever do if Conall severed ties between them. She’d be heartbroken. Lost.

  “If my family thinks the worst of me, what horrors must my betrothed believe about me? Or perhaps she was with her father all along. Don’t they understand that I do this for the good of everyone? That no man has the right to own and possess the body of another?”