Was he speaking of slaves? Her brows pushed together as she listened. James babbled for a while longer until his voice trailed. He shifted, as if intending to rise, only to collapse amidst the rumpled bed coverings again.
Soon after, the rumbling of his snores became the only sound to fill the cabin. Only then did Tink tug the rumpled letter into her cage, poring over it and squinting for a long hour to decipher the complicated speech.
What she read made her hurt for James even more.
While Tink had only known Captain James Hook for less than a week, she required no further proof to determine he was far too good for Sir and Madam Hook, who claimed to no longer have a child. Far too good for the likes of them.
Chapter
ADMIRAL EDWARD TEACH mopped his brow while reading the summons from King Harold. Hook’s lawless behavior in the Viridian Sea had reached new levels of inconvenience for Eisland.
He blamed himself for misplacing his judgment in the boy and failing to see he hadn’t been prepared to do what was necessary for his king and country. Back then, he’d thought James to be one of their shining stars.
After folding the summons and shoving it within his blue coat, the admiral ran his fingers over his lustrous black beard and made his way into the throne room.
Three crystal chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceiling and cast dancing rainbows across the room. A cobalt runner ran the length of the throne chamber to the dais, standing out against the pristine white marble floors. Only the finest stone from quarries in the north had been used in the castle’s construction. King Harold’s ancestors had demanded nothing less.
Of all the kingdoms and castles he had visited, Teach never found one lovelier than Castle Icedale. Not because it was home, but because it truly deserved the distinction.
Sunlight poured in through large windows fitted with flawless glass imported over a century ago from a desert kingdom across the world. Planters carved from obsidian overflowed with white ice roses. They only bloomed in cold weather following a hard frost. Artisans around the kingdom preferred them over tedious embroidery since the preserved flowers became like silk.
But the shining jewel of the room was the throne itself. Carved from a single massive sapphire, it rose higher than the tallest man in the court, providing an impressive backdrop for the monarch.
King Harold stood out in his white and silver finery, a man of average height with fair hair resting around his slim shoulders. He had never raised a weapon in all his life. His baby soft hands, slender torso, and spindly arms created the meek frame of a monarch who hid behind greater men. In fact, he’d been a child king when he ascended to the throne following the loss of his predecessor fifty years prior—spoiled and denied nothing by the court.
“Admiral Teach, you’ve finally arrived.”
Teach bowed. “Forgive me, sire, I only received your message within the last hour, and I was unfit to be in your company.”
“Don’t give me bloody empty apologies. Tell me what you plan to do about this damned pirate. Do you know how much money was lost when Hook sacked the Golden Goose?”
“I am well aware of the value,” Teach replied.
A scarlet flush swept from the king’s starched collar, mottling his pale face. “Had he spared Captain el’Vartellan, I would have hung him myself for this abysmal failure. The man was cocky, and his arrogance cost Eisland a small fortune. Thousands of crowns, Teach. Thousands!”
Suppressing the urge to groan, Teach straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Excuse me, sire, but we both know such a deed would have incurred Ridaeron’s wrath. No, it’s better that Hook killed him. They’ll want his blood now in return.”
“They’ve always wanted his blood, but I want it first,” the king snarled. “I want to string him up for all to witness. Then they’ll see what piracy brings.”
Teach dried his sweaty palms against his breeches. “I’ve done all that I can, Your Majesty. The shipwrights have yet to build a faster ship. Prior to his desertion, his sails were embroidered with the best enchantments to come from the Collegium of Arthras, and now he has the aid of that damned sorcerer from Samahara. In fact, rumor has it he’s employed a weather mage from Neverland, too.”
“I want more.”
“I can speak with the magister—”
“I’ve already spoken with him, and I have a plan,” King Harold said.
“Oh? And what do the magisters say?”
“My son, Joren, heard of our troubles and suggested commissioning a grand weapon from their best enchanters. The price won’t be pretty, but the cost will be worth ridding this world of Hook.”
Teach chuckled. “I’m surprised such a recommendation came from Joren. He and Hook were quite close at one time.”
“I told him his treacherous former friend is to blame for his sister’s delirium. Rapunzel hasn’t been the same, you know, since the boy abandoned her, and upon discovering he sacked the ship of her newly betrothed, her delicate mind could take no more.”
“But Rapunzel wasn’t betrothed.”
“Joren doesn’t know that.”
Awed by the king’s devious mind, Teach smirked and tipped his head in respect. “A good plan, Your Majesty. You know your son well.”
“Joren has always been a white knight when it comes to his sister. It’s a shame those bloody Mordenian ingrates couldn’t see his potential. Their daughters chose Oclanders over my Joren.”
“Beastmen,” Teach spit out. “I’ve heard they lack a proper navy.”
“And many other modern conveniences,” King Harold grumbled. “My latest spy reports tell me some of them still live in caves.”
“No better than common animals, my king.”
“Unfortunately, they have grown in power since Anastasia claimed the throne beside the dragon king, and we have no choice but to play nice with them. Morgan pressed me to accept them into the Compact, and they’re our allies now.”
“Indeed. But what shall we do about the pirates?”
King Harold’s smile returned. “Magister Benedict has designed a cannon for the Queen Anne’s Revenge, a one-of-a-kind beauty with the ability to draw magic from the fire rubies harvested in the deserts of Crestoli.”
“How soon will this weapon be ready to put on a ship?”
“As soon as you can get your ship to Avalon Bay. Joren will assist in outfitting your ship. However, I don’t wish for him to join your crew. I know he’ll make the request. Refuse him.”
“Joren is a fine sailor,” Teach began, only for the king to cut him off with a sharp hand slash through the air.
“I forbid it. Until his sister sees reason and understands imported servitude is the way of Eisland’s future, he is my only remaining heir. I can’t risk him on this mission.”
“As you command. Tell me though, Your Majesty, what is the likelihood of Prince Joren accepting our nation’s prosperous new commodity? How do you know he won’t behave as his sister did?”
“Joren is more pragmatic than his sister. He’ll see the advantages to our new way of doing things and the affluence gained through our endeavors.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll be forced to arrange for an accident to befall his precious sister while placing the blame on the heathens we’ve imported from Ridaeron. What better way to gain his obedience than by cultivating his bitterness? I don’t need a daughter, but I do need my son as an heir.”
Chapter
WHILE OUT AT sea with days until their next destination, James often left Nigel, Eliza, or Smee at the helm. Most recently, however, it had been Smee, since physician’s duties occupied Eliza’s time and Nigel had taken an interest in Fatima, clumsily courting the swordswoman during his free time. As she’d been accustomed to a wholly different variety of man in her native kingdom, she fell quite soundly for Nigel’s awkward pursuits.
Damn. James loathed envying his friend, but he couldn’t help but wish some of the same sweet fortune would bef
all him as well.
“It was bound to happen eventually, I suppose,” James muttered to himself. He settled at the dinner table alone, missing the usual company of his officers. A glow at the corner of his eye drew his attention, causing him to turn and glance at the cage set by his bed. The little creature pressed against the bars, bright and serene.
“I have you to keep me company at least, don’t I?”
She tinkled at him, a living bell glowing the most tranquil shade of lilac.
A living bell. Belle. At last, a name for her came to mind, a favorite among the noble ladies of Eisland. “Are you hungry?” He turned her cage toward the dining table.
Her glow intensified. Accepting it as an answer, he chuckled and relocated her to the table along with him, moving the entire cage. Cook had prepared a sweet medley with the remaining fruit from their recent raid, consisting of blueberries, diced melon, sliced apples, and ripe raspberries. Pushing a blueberry between the bars resulted in his tiny friend shoving it back out.
“What?” He frowned. Had she grown tired of them? He didn’t know what to feed her, and hesitated to give the creature something disagreeable that would cause her harm. After a moment of hesitation, he leaned closer to her cage and stared back at her.
“I’m going to allow you out of the cage. After all, we’ve been friends for a couple weeks now, haven’t we?” Deciding the worst that could happen was he spent hours chasing her down in his closed bedroom, he released the latch on the front and swung it open.
At first, she lingered in the cage and hovered in the open doorway. When James was positive she didn’t plan to leave, she darted out and sped to his plate, where she snatched up a small wedge of hard yellow cheese and beelined toward the cabin’s rafters. There she sat, within sight but beyond his reach, and dug into her prize.
Even a tiny winged creature found his company intolerable, it would seem.
“S’pose this means I’m doomed to dine alone after all, but you’re more than welcome to anything else from my meal.”
He watched her almost sadly, of a mind to let her enjoy a taste of freedom along with her stolen cheese, even if her choice of food did bewilder him. “I hope that doesn’t make you ill, little Belle.”
Resuming his meal in silence, he cast a wary look toward his door and considered locking it, then quickly discarded the notion. Few entered his room without knocking, and James suspected Smee would slam the door shut if he opened it to see Belle hurtling toward him. The mental picture his thoughts inspired made him chuckle.
Whether drawn by his laughter or hunger, his little friend drifted down to the opposite end of the table. Not a crumb of cheese remained in her hands.
“Come back for more, have you?” he asked in a soft voice. “Help yourself.”
If she had any sort of intelligence, surely she wouldn’t take something that would harm her. So he waited, hand on the table and hook resting on his lap, body motionless as Rapunzel had taught him years ago. The princess had held an affinity for all winged creatures, and they’d once spent hours in her private rooftop garden as the birds fluttered to and fro, taking nectar from their cupped palms or seeds from the dishes she left out. That fond memory seemed decades ago.
He channeled that patience now while watching his diminutive friend. Colors flickered across her wings, first orange, then blue, and finally a deep red. Then she darted forward and another piece of cheese vanished from his plate, along with a bit of bread. She retreated back across the table with her prizes and took a seat. James counted it as a tiny victory that she hadn’t flown back to the ceiling.
“You’re very safe here, little one. I wouldn’t harm you. I know you can’t understand me, but I hope perhaps you can understand something in my voice.”
She tinkled, the orange glow returning to her wings. Her movements restored the smile lost by his earlier melancholic thoughts. How could he feel anything but joy while observing her? She seemed to take her time with her meal this time around, so he returned to his. Cook had prepared roasted fish caught earlier in the day. Between the stores they claimed from the ships they plundered and what they caught from the sea, they never wanted for food.
Thoughtfully chewing the savory morsel fried in sweet butter churned by Cook herself, he studied her then glanced at his wine goblet. “I wonder… You do resemble a little woman. Do you drink like one too?”
While he hollowed a cork with the sharp tip of his hook, she darted forward and stole a chunk of bread, dragging it through the honey smeared on his plate. After pouring a portion of sweet white wine into the makeshift cup, he set it in the middle of the table on a linen napkin. Then he placed more cheese and bread beside it, as well as a small portion of his fish.
“Cook is an excellent chef,” he told her. “I’ve always thought we’d gotten away with the best in Eisland’s navy, and my opinion has remained the same. She and a few of my men tend the animals we keep down below. It’s how we keep milk, eggs, and butter on the ship for our meals.”
Upon seeing the wine, she abandoned her bread.
Now that she wasn’t flitting about or surrounded in a bright glow, James was able to distinguish the finer details of her figure. A slender body, pointed ears, and large, glossy green eyes.
“Eliza was right. You are quite pretty.” More tinkling from the creature widened his smile. She seemed to preen under his compliment, though he discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it formed. “In fact, more beautiful than most human women I’ve seen,” he murmured thoughtfully. Any human woman he’d ever seen.
The little creature tossed her golden hair over one shoulder. Fascinated by her, he forgot to eat his own meal, and a moment passed before his rumbling belly reminded him to finish it.
Aside from her occasional chimes, they ate in silence. He refilled their glasses, amused when she raised the cork up to him with pleading, moss-green eyes focused on his face.
If he didn’t know better…
She certainly appeared intelligent, even if they didn’t speak the same language.
Could she have a human’s intellect? He dismissed the thought as abruptly as it came. Even a dog had the wit to beg for scraps, and he’d seen Callum’s birds plead for treats numerous times. They were no different from feathered children.
“You have good taste. There. I promised I wouldn’t harm you, and when I give my word, I keep it.”
Cook had also sent up a pie baked with the sweet, pink apples grown in Liang. This was beneath a dish, though the moment he raised the silver lid, the air became fragrant with spice and sugar.
When he sliced into it, her nose turned up, and she pranced around the rim with her hands on her tiny hips.
“No? Aren’t you even a little tempted?” He’d expected her to dive face first into the pie, but she’d also choked down so much food and drink, he expected her to crawl into her little bed without moving until morning. “You know, I had considered bringing some sort of animal on board the ship at one time. A bird like Ylis, or even a cat. It’d be nice to have some creature to share my time.”
She fluttered away from him and returned to her bread, intelligent eyes never leaving him.
“Where do you put it all?” James chuckled and took a bite of his dessert. “Ah, well, I suppose you’ll have to do. A quiet little companion for me, as opposed to Nigel’s louder one. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a woman’s company.”
He polished off the rest of his pie and washed it down with a gulp of wine before rising from the table. He had plans to sprawl on the settee with a good book. Appearing almost uncertain, he offered his hand to her, palm up and with limitless patience. Either she would accept the offering, or she wouldn’t, although he’d yet to figure out how to wrangle her back into the cage.
Rather than accept his hand as a perch, she took her wine and fluttered in a weaving pattern to the chaise where he kept his book, settling on a nearby ship model. Its size fit her at the perfect scale, and she played at the wheel, spi
nning it and staggering across the miniature quarterdeck.
He took it as a sign of acceptance and joined her at the chaise. It was all rich and sumptuous fabric, dark wood and plum velvet, one of the original furnishings in the captain’s cabin. He sprawled over it with his boots off and opened the book on his lap, only to become distracted by watching Belle. Her wings glittered in the adjacent lantern light, a thousand shimmers blinking all around her. When she didn’t glow, she resembled a tiny woman—a perfectly formed woman with the most delicious attributes.
James immediately flushed with guilt for noticing at all.
And I’ve not had enough wine to think these thoughts. What’s wrong with me? Has it been that long since I’ve bedded a woman?
Close to a year perhaps, if not longer, but James often tried to suppress any physical urges. He’d have to remedy that once he reached Samahara.
Clearly, the unintentional celibacy was doing something to his brain for him to notice the feminine curves of a tiny, winged woman. She played upon the model ship’s deck, oblivious to his observations, flitting from wheel to mast.
James cleared his throat. Conversation with his newly named companion would have to suit in the meantime. “That is a replica of the first ship I ever served on, Rapunzel’s Glory,” he said. “Named after King Harold’s only daughter. I was nine at the time. Started swabbing decks until I caught the captain’s eye and was elevated to his cabin boy.”
The memory brought back his earlier melancholy. Commodore Teach had been that captain and like a father figure in many ways. He’d never seen the evil in the man’s heart back then. Now the man was Admiral Teach, commanding officer of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, well-rewarded for his assistance in their wayward king’s diabolic plot.
Most of the pirates merely called him Blackbeard though, claiming to see more beard than man through their scopes whenever his ship approached.
Belle hiccupped hard enough to topple onto her backside, and then she burst into giggles—at least, he assumed the high-pitched, tinkling chimes to be giggles.
Belle and the Pirate Page 5