Imena strongly resented having her hands bound behind her, but she could see the pirate captain’s point: she had not actually surrendered, and with her hands free, she would definitely have been communicating with Chetri and whoever else could decipher her signals. He read her facial expressions with expertise, after so many years, but that wasn’t the same as being able to give him direct orders. She set her jaw and allowed two women, both taller than her and with arms like young trees, to tighten her bonds to their satisfaction and then propel her over the railing of Seaflower and onto the deck of the northern ship.
Her face itched abominably where a trickle of blood meandered down from a cut on her scalp. Deliberately, she forced the sensation away.
She hoped Maxime was keeping his mouth shut. From what she’d seen before she’d been overwhelmed, he hadn’t been wounded beyond bruises and nicks. She was glad for the injuries, as they would help him blend into her crew, or the battered remnants of her crew. Hiyu, one of the topmen, had been killed, and from the glimpses she’d had, at least three more of her sailors were seriously injured.
Each of the pirate ships had a captain, and both awaited her. The woman was clearly in charge. She looked to be in her fifties or early sixties; it was difficult to tell because pale skin endured sun so badly. Her face and hands were weathered, her blond and gray-brindled hair bleached even paler by sunlight. Her bloused trousers and snug tunic, of plain linen, blended into the colors of her skin. She wore her hair swept high atop her head and clasped with a jeweled metal band that matched the bow guard she wore on her left arm and the plate belt slung low around her slim hips; those were her only adornments. She was missing the lobe of one ear and stood with commanding presence, more of a military air than Imena was used to seeing in pirates. Imena couldn’t see any of the usual tattoos that would have given her more information.
The second captain was male, and looked younger, even through the smudged lines of lurid green paint streaked across his forehead and slashed across his cheeks. He dressed with a flamboyance that seemed common to all pirates, but even so, Imena had never seen a pirate who was quite so richly yet shabbily adorned.
His wore his rusty hair down his back in a messy array of asymmetrical braids, some thin and tight as tiny snakes, some thick as rope, all fraying, all of them twisted in and around with bright metal buttons and sun-faded ribbons in every color of the rainbow. His bright blue trousers fit snugly, but his purple velvet shirt flapped loose and ragged-hemmed over his waist, belted in the sort of satin cording she’d seen used to tie back curtains. Over the shirt he wore an open waistcoat, encrusted with silver lace and buttons and strings of shark teeth, and atop that a long frock coat, too large, whose snagged bloodred brocade was rubbed to white in places. Daggers sagged each of the coat’s hip pockets with their weight. Another pair of crossed daggers were harnessed over the coat. Beneath all the finery, however, his feet were bare and filthy, with clawed yellow toenails.
Imena met his strangely hot gaze and had to force herself not to flinch. His silvery-gray eyes were like shallow pools with no feeling behind them, the eyes of a pitiless shark. She’d seen his type before, once, and he made her inwardly shudder as she had not done in years. As soon as her escort had propelled her within his reach, his hand snaked out and slapped her face with stunning force.
“Cassidy!” the woman snapped. “Restrain yourself.”
“Venom,” the pirate said, with the air of correcting a child. He licked his lips. His tongue was stained green.
Imena tried to shake off the blow; her cheekbone felt as if it still vibrated. She heard a commotion behind her, on Seaflower, but ignored it to focus on the woman captain. Slowly, she licked a droplet of blood from her lip.
The female pirate said, in the patois of a thousand ports, “I am Captain Svetlana Litvinova of Riptide. We require information.”
Imena said nothing. She had been asked no question, and the blow on top of Hiyu’s death had angered her sufficiently to temporarily overwhelm her good sense. She’d been too long out of the game, it seemed, spent too long covertly gathering information from the unwary. This wasn’t the same, not at all. How was she to protect her crew—and Maxime—from this hostile force, without weapons, with so little to bargain? None of her valuable cargo had been loaded before her precipitate departure from the duchies.
“Give her to me,” the pirate addressed as Cassidy, called Venom, said, after a few moments of chill silence. He spoke a dialect Imena recognized, from the empire’s northern coast, though his accent was strange. She’d seen hair redder than his, far to the north, and had heard it was common in the barbarian islands. “My crew are thirsty for blood, and you haven’t given it to us as you promised. I am thirsty, too. She looks as if she wouldn’t scream for a long, long time.”
Litvinova ignored him. “Do you understand me?” she asked.
“Yes,” Imena said, biting back rage.
“Are you an imperial ship?”
Imena shrugged. The grips of her two captors tightened on her shoulders.
“Your ship looks imperial, but not as I’m familiar with. And though you bear the marks of a privateer, your eyes are a strange color. Do you come from the fringes of the empire?”
“Which empire would that be?” Imena asked.
Litvinova caught Venom’s blow this time, blocking him with her arm. As if nothing had happened, she said, “I’ve never known imperials to tolerate so many mongrels for long. Your crew must be from farther south. I need to know more of those waters, and the ports you’ve visited in the past year.”
“I’m not interested in what you need,” Imena said, waiting for the threats to begin. Litvinova didn’t recognize Seaflower as a duchy ship; she didn’t seem to know what lay beyond the Horizon Empire. Which made sense, if she’d spent her life around the Inland Sea. They were isolated there, with no outlet by sea except into waters ruled by the imperial navy and, more often, imperial privateers. She wouldn’t know Maxime held any importance; she might not even have heard of the duchies. That was a small relief, at least.
Litvinova gripped Imena’s chin, preventing her from looking away. “Perhaps you will be interested in this. I have two ships, you have one. I carry sufficient crew to keep yours under guard for weeks on end. I have control of your ship, and I have control of you. All I am asking in return is information.”
Venom smiled chillingly, and said in the northern dialect, “You promised me slaves to fuck, strong ones. This one would shriek for a long time, before I fed her to the sharks. My men are summoning them at this moment.”
His statement was more in line with what Imena had been expecting. She controlled her expression so it wouldn’t be obvious she understood his words. She said, “Perhaps you should have simply asked, then.”
Litvinova stepped closer, pushing her face close to Imena’s. “And you would have been absolutely truthful in your answers, of course.”
Imena fought her instinct to step back. It would be useless, in any case, given the large hands gripping her biceps and shoulders. “You’ll never know now.”
Litvinova retreated abruptly. “No matter.” She glanced to the side; a young woman in a snug dress and jeweled headband stepped to her other side. Venom sneered openly at her. Imena watched with interest; she would lay odds the young woman was no pirate, much less a sailor.
Litvinova’s voice softened as she spoke. “Annja, did you see which it was?”
Annja’s voice was low and sultry. “The big one, mistress, with the dark beard. He fought at her side and defended her to his own cost.”
Maxime. He’d managed to draw attention to himself. She ought to have confined him below with the youngsters instead of letting him fight; she could have told him he was protecting them. How should she react? Dismiss him as of no importance? She didn’t think they’d believe her. Her only consolation was that they could have no idea he was a valuable political hostage. She said nothing.
“Bring him here,” Litvinov
a said. Of Imena, she asked, “Who is he? Do you own him or pay him? Or is he merely loyal?”
Imena stared back at her. Being tortured would have been fine. She could have resisted that, at least long enough for Chetri to find some advantage. But she did not think she could watch Maxime be tortured, not for long. And if she did, would it violate their contract?
At least, she thought with pained humor, she wouldn’t be guilty of treason. She wasn’t a citizen of the duchies.
Venom gestured sharply.
Two more large pirates, these male, vaulted the railing to Seaflower. They bound Maxime’s arms and brought him to the pirate ship. Her crew took their cue from her and did not resist, though she could hear discontented murmuring, abruptly cut off, likely at a signal from Chetri. She knew that if it came to sacrificing Maxime for the sake of her ship and crew, she would have to do it, but the idea made her light-headed. For a moment, she fought to keep her feet.
She didn’t look at Maxime as he was brought to the pirate ship, though she could feel his presence like a warmth, as if the proximity of his body to hers could raise the fine hairs all over her skin. She held Litvinova’s gaze instead, deliberately loosening her muscles one by one, so if the chance occurred, she would be prepared to spring into action. This was made more difficult by Venom, who had moved close to her side. He reeked of musty fabric and long-unwashed flesh with a peculiar medicinal malodor. Laughing softly, he traced her scalp tattoos with the tip of one finger. His sharp nail sent shivers down her spine, and Imena had to fight the urge to retch, not so much from the touch but from the invasive intimacy of it, of this creature touching her where Maxime had touched her. Venom touched the cut above her temple and, to her horror, leaned forward and tasted the blood with the tip of his tongue. The cut began to itch and burn.
Litvinova abruptly shoved him back.
Was it a ploy? The “good” pirate and the “bad” pirate?
Perhaps she would not have been so immune to torture as she’d thought, if such a thing as a fingernail on her scalp could affect her so viscerally. It had been a long time since she’d been a captive, even longer since she’d suffered at the hands of captors, and she was older now, less foolhardy. She was too aware of consequences.
It took physical effort not to look at Maxime. Then he was at her side, out of arm’s reach but there, accompanying his captors as if they were escorts rather than tall scarred pirates with matching broken noses and coppery hair clipped into wild cock’s tails. When the pirates jerked him to a halt in front of Litvinova, he bowed, precise and respectful, and said in an appalling mixture of his own language and dockside patois, “Madame Captain. How may I serve you?”
He was fluent in patois, but after a moment she realized he’d mangled his words purposely, creating a vulnerability where none existed.
Litvinova turned to Annja. “Is this the one?”
“Yes, Captain.”
Litvinova caressed Annja’s cheek. “Thank you, love. You may go below now.” She gently patted Annja’s rear as she turned to go.
“Is she your pet?” Imena said before she could stop herself.
“You’re no better, and perhaps worse, that you put him in danger,” Litvinova countered, indicating Maxime with a wave of her hand. “Have you any tender feelings for him? Or perhaps, for his worth? He’d sell for a boatload of gold to a fine lady near the Inland Sea, those who have no taste for eunuchs and like them hairy and virile.”
Maxime spoke up, still in the same mangled patois. “Madame Captain would allow me to demonstrate my worth? Maybe a trade?”
Imena sucked in her breath. He could not be offering to trade himself for the ship. He wouldn’t be so foolish.
Litvinova addressed herself to Imena. “You should teach him to speak only when spoken to. I would have other uses for his tongue, myself.”
Imena shrugged, pretending indifference. “There are men in every port, and cheaper ones, too.”
“But this one is yours. You don’t dress him as befits a captain’s concubine, but you’ve brought him to sea with you, trained him in weapons and manners…of a sort.” Litvinova walked over, Venom trailing her, and casually turned Maxime’s face to one side, then the other. She peered at his teeth, prodded his shoulders and thighs and, more slowly, explored his crotch. Imena dared a quick glance. His jaw had set hard at the handling, even though he still forced a smile. Rage boiled in her chest. How dare this woman treat His Grace like chattel!
She reminded herself that Maxime was safer, just now, as a concubine than a duke. Too late. She felt a crawling on her skin and looked up to find Venom’s eyes on her, frigid and speculative.
Venom ran his hand over Maxime’s jaw, then reached down and squeezed his genitals, hard. He said to Litvinova in his own tongue, “It will be a pleasure scraping off all this hair, bit by bit. Then perhaps I could bend him over the rail, flog him and let my men screw him until he is reduced enough to amuse me with his whimpers.”
It was clear to Imena that Maxime understood this vile speech, but he met Venom’s sidelong sneer with an innocent smile. He inclined his head and said in patois, “Master Underling wishes his cock sucked?”
Venom slapped him. Underling wasn’t the entire meaning of the word Maxime had used. “You will be shark food,” he said, his patois the thickest Imena had ever heard.
“Gag him,” Litvinova said curtly to one of Imena’s guards. She meant Maxime, not Venom, but after a breath Imena realized this meant she would have only one guard. Litvinova added, “Strip him after you’ve gagged him and give him to Cassidy. This one can watch.”
Imena’s breath caught, then she sucked in air and let her cold rage flow through her veins, bringing every limb to tingling life. Her arms strained at her ropes, her wounds numbed, and the top of her head prickled as if it were about to catch fire in phosphorescence. “You will not abuse my crew,” she said, biting the words off through numb lips.
Litvinova smiled with absolutely no warmth. “He fought against us like the rest. He killed two of Cassidy’s—Venom’s sailors. I think they should be allowed a little revenge.” She paused. “Unless you might be willing to help us.” She paused again, and when Imena said nothing, gestured to the guard on Imena’s left side.
Imena watched as Maxime was gagged with a twist of leather, covertly flexing her arm. As the guard ripped open his shirt, drawing Venom’s avid gaze, she flung her weight in his direction, twisting her body and screaming with all the volume she could muster.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAXIME WAS DOWN.
Imena rolled to her feet, struggling wildly for Venom’s dagger while his legs tangled with hers, the sharp toes of his boots digging into her flesh. The dagger’s tip was smeared with a greenish oil, and whether it was poison or merely hallucinogen, she didn’t dare let it brush her skin.
A flaming arrow slammed into the deck near their heads. Another landed near it, atop a coil of tarred rope, and flames burst out.
Unfortunately, despite Imena’s greater weight, the pirate’s wiry arms were stronger than hers, and he bared teeth in a ferocious grin as he forced her hand toward her throat.
Imena sank her teeth into the sleeve of his coat, trying to bite hard enough to break skin, clinging even as he banged her skull against a line-block and pain shot nauseatingly into her belly. Head reeling, she thrust with her knee, without leverage, and just managed to graze his privates. For a breath, his grip slackened, and she flung away his arm with all her strength.
A gust of sandalwood and Chetri was there, his hands on the shoulders of her jacket, dragging her free of Venom’s scrabbling hands while she blinked away dizziness. Seretse and Wiscz leaped on Venom with all their considerable size and Imena saw Norris jump into the fray, wielding a bucket whose iron bindings might cause serious damage. Gnalam, Seretse’s tiny mate, attacked a pirate with a hammer.
She saw Maxime then, tangled with his opponents on the deck, pounding his elbow into the face of one of his captors while vicio
usly kicking the other with his heel.
She couldn’t hear what Chetri was saying to her in the midst of the screaming and bellowing of a full-blown melee. Then the sound of her own retching blocked him out; he’d heaved her up and over the rail, into Roxanne’s arms. Imena’s weight bore them both to the deck, Roxanne shielding her from impact; she barely turned to the side before the contents of her stomach erupted.
When Imena could speak again, she asked, “Maxime?”
“Safe,” Roxanne said. She’d recovered possession of her hook and began strapping it on, cursing as her fingers fumbled. Nabhi raced by her, a cutlass in one hand and a belaying pin in the other, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Imena wiped her mouth on her sleeve—Norris would weep at the state of this jacket—and discovered she had landed close to a pile of discarded weapons. She reached for a cutlass, missed, and took a breath, lowering her head.
A large hand landed on her shoulder, applying all the force of its owner’s weight. “Stay down, Captain,” the Knife said. “Your brain’s bruised. Let Chetri earn his keep.”
“Cast off the grapples,” Imena said. Her stomach roiled and she swallowed hard.
“Already done.” The Knife snagged Imena beneath the arms and hauled her toward a hatch. Imena felt like a child next to her powerful bulk. “You, Captain Leung, are no longer fit for duty.”
Imena protested being led into her cabin, protested sitting on a trunk and protested the Knife’s ministrations until she felt the ship get under way. Even then she remained tense, because she knew the pirate ships would be close in pursuit.
“We can do this on deck,” she said as the Knife applied salve to a cut on her thigh, the sharp herbal tang clearing the blood and smoke from her nostrils. She breathed more deeply, hoping the scent would ease the throbbing at the base of her neck.
The Duke & the Pirate Queen Page 11