Pirates of Aletharia, page 46
What had she been thinking?
But surprisingly enough, Maria didn’t pull away. “Why?”
Why?
Why did she keep asking that? Emilia didn’t know why! She’d been acting on a sudden impulse—a sudden fear that she’d lose this person she supposedly hated. It didn’t make any more sense to her than it did to Maria.
“Wouldn’t you say, Captain,” Emilia said, her voice steady, despite the chaos bouncing around in her head, “that your crew needs you alive?”
Maria’s brows furrowed. “For this battle, yes.”
“Then, drink it,” Emilia said softly.
There.
That was what she should’ve said the first time. Maria would do it for her crew.
Not for Emilia—but for her crew.
“I’ll drink from it, too,” Emilia offered, “if you don’t trust me.”
Maria tilted her head slightly, a strange confusion twisting at her brows. She took the bottle and opened it. She then tilted it up, and, to Emilia’s surprise, drank every drop.
When she was done, she held out the empty bottle.
Emilia stared up at her lovely, infuriating pirate captain, and emotions she couldn’t even hope to identify welled up in her throat.
“We’re going into battle together,” Maria said, quiet enough that only Emilia heard. “Today, of all days, we must trust each other.”
Emilia nodded slowly, her heart rattling in her chest.
“I’ve given you my trust, surgeon,” Maria said, stepping closer. “May I have yours?”
Emilia surprised even herself with the response that came so naturally from within her. “You have it, Captain.”
Maria brushed a tattooed thumb against Emilia’s cheek, and her soft, full lips curved into a grateful smile. “Keep my crew alive for me,” she said, “my sweet surgeon.”
Emilia’s stomach fluttered. Maria had never said those words in that…way before. It was just a taunt, usually.
There was always that patronizing bite in her tone—that taunting glint in her dark brown eyes.
But this time, she’d said it differently. This time, she’d said it like a term of endearment.
What did that mean?
“I will,” Emilia promised her.
Maria lifted a scarred eyebrow. “That means you, too, Em. Stay safe.”
Emilia frowned. “Me?”
Not her most eloquent response, admittedly.
“Just make out with her in front of the entire crew, why don’t you?” came a sudden grumble nearby.
Maria glared at her quartermaster, as he passed them on the way to the quarterdeck.
Emilia glanced warily at Zain, who didn’t even look her way. His scowl was more sour than usual. “What’s his problem?”
Maria glanced at Emilia, her dark eyes unreadable. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“It sounds like it concerns me,” Emilia pointed out.
That gentle, golden-brown jawline of Maria’s seemed to shift, as if she were grinding her teeth. “Zain and I are having a bit of a spat,” she said with a forced smile. “That’s all.”
Judith’s warning about mutiny echoed in Emilia’s head. “How serious is it?”
“Not serious enough to matter during a battle,” Maria said.
That didn’t comfort Emilia much.
“Captain!”
The yell came from somewhere up above them—a sailor in the rigging, perhaps.
Maria dropped her hand and looked up, squinting at the sunlit sails. “I have to go, love,” she said gently. She glanced back at Emilia. “Stay safe.”
Anxiety fluttered in Emilia’s chest. “Wait!” When Maria stopped, Emilia asked—with a bit of hesitation, “Is it her?”
Maria didn’t ask who Emilia meant. She didn’t need to. “It’s too soon to tell,” she said quietly. “From this distance, I can’t even make out the name of the ship.” She drummed her fingers against the hilt of her sword. “I can only tell you that she’s flying King Eldric’s colors.”
Emilia nodded. “And what colors are we flying?”
A cruel smile curled at one corner of Maria’s mouth. “Black, as always.”
“Oh,” Emilia said.
Maria’s smile widened. “The Wicked Fate hides from no one, love.”
“Hold him steady,” Emilia told Judith—as the ship rocked with another cannon blast.
“Easier said than done, Em,” Judith said, but she held down the sailor’s arms, anyway.
Emilia was literally up to her elbows in blood, but her confidence held stronger now than it had in months. Emilia loved healing the way Maria loved a battle and the way Helen loved explosions.
Really, everyone was in their element today.
Except for Judith.
“Tell me those aren’t his entrails,” Judith groaned.
Emilia frowned at the request. “What should I tell you they are, instead? Blood-soaked eels?”
Judith wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“They’ve been perforated,” Emilia explained. “I can mend them, but I have to remove the shrapnel first.”
Judith looked away, cringing. “That’s a lot of blood, Em.”
Emilia risked a quick glance at her. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm,” Judith said, though she looked a bit pale. “Just remind me to drink a lot more rum next time.”
Emilia suppressed a smile. “The rum is for the injured sailors, Judith.”
“Well, I say,” Judith said, “it’s for the injured sailors and the cook who’s having to help her friend dig through fucking entrails.”
Emilia laughed at that. She picked up a small set of forceps and leaned forward to remove a piece of metal.
The sailor was far too drunk to know his own predicament, by this point, but every now and then, he’d open his eyes, see Emilia’s blood-soaked arms, and panic.
Hence the need for Judith’s assistance.
Under any other circumstances, Emilia would use magic to keep him asleep, but after healing at least seven sailors already, she didn’t have much magic left.
She’d need to recover her energy soon—but there was no time for it now.
Judith kept her head turned to the side, but she peeked at Emilia out of one eye. “Are you done?”
Emilia dropped the shrapnel in the bowl beside her, metal clanging against metal. “Not quite.”
Judith groaned miserably. “You know, I’ve always said I have a stomach of steel—because I can handle my rum—but if you’re not queasy right now, then you, my friend, are the one with the stomach of steel.”
Emilia laughed. “You get used to it.”
The hatch opened, and the boisterous chaos outside grew louder. The wooden steps creaked under their feet, as Fulke and Pelt came down into the hold, carrying another injured sailor.
Well, Fulke was doing most of the carrying. Pelt was just sort of…daintily holding the feet, as if he weren’t sure what else to do.
“Got another one for you, Em!” Pelt yelled, over the cannon fire.
Emilia didn’t look up from her work. “Give him some rum, and tell him to drink until the pain dulls,” she called. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with this one.”
Again, Judith gave her a miserable groan.
Emilia offered Judith a quick, amused smile. “I can make you a tincture for the queasiness, if you’d like.”
Judith stared blankly at her. “There are literal organs spread out in front of me. I don’t think a tincture is going to help.”
Emilia laughed. “You’d be surprised.”
Judith squinted at that, but Emilia could tell she was considering it.
“I need to make a run to the galley, anyway,” Emilia added. She threaded a needle. Normally, she used magic for mending, but she needed a temporary, nonmagical solution—at least until she could recover her energy. “I can have you a tincture made in a matter of minutes.”
Judith frowned worriedly. “You’re leaving me with the bloody eels?”
“Don’t worry,” Emilia said with a laugh. “I’m sewing him up first.”
“Don’t worry?” Judith scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”
Emilia couldn’t help but laugh. She’d always thought of Judith as someone who wasn’t fazed by anything.
Apparently, anything didn’t include intestines.
With a desperate whine, Judith said, “Will you at least bring back more rum?”
“Of course,” Emilia assured her.
CHAPTER 23
A Ghost from the Past
Emilia took a quick detour on her way to the galley. A little distracted that morning, she’d remembered to arm herself with a sword, but she’d forgotten her enchanted dagger in Maria’s quarters.
If she retrieved it now, she could use its reserve of magic to restore her own.
Just like she’d done the day of her escape.
Despite the warship she did battle with, the Wicked Fate had taken on a lot less cannon fire than the naval ship.
Flames coiled into the sky, burning the navy ship’s sails and hull and filling the air with thick, black smoke.
The Wicked Fate, on the other hand, needed only a few repairs, before it’d be back on its way.
Maria was quick and clever, and whoever captained the other ship just couldn’t compete.
Emilia could admire Maria for her brilliance without liking her, couldn’t she?
Just like she could feel these strange, warm feelings inside her and still insist she hated Maria.
Right?
She certainly wasn’t in denial or anything.
The sea rumbled beneath the ship, and Emilia had to grasp the wall to keep herself from falling.
Emilia avoided the chaos as well as she could on her way to Maria’s quarters.
She carried a rag in her hands that she used to wipe the blood from her arms. She’d scrub them properly when she returned to the hold.
She unlocked Maria’s door with a simple spell—one that required less energy than the healing spells she’d been using for the last hour.
Somewhere above, Maria shouted orders at the gunners. Emilia couldn’t understand them, exactly, but she recognized her captain’s voice.
If Maria was up there, she couldn’t be in her cabin. So, Emilia assumed, of course, that the captain’s quarters would be empty.
She stepped inside and immediately veered toward the bed, where she’d left her dagger.
“Emilia?”
She froze.
Time slowed to a halt, as she turned in the direction of that soft, familiar voice.
Emilia’s skin cooled, and she blinked quickly, hoping this terrible hallucination would dissolve before her eyes.
The woman in front of her now felt more like a ghost than her mother’s actual ghost had.
Her blonde hair didn’t fall loosely around her shoulders, like it had during their time together on the island. She wore it in a tight braid now, bound behind her head.
And she wore that fitted, blue waistcoat that Emilia had come to hate.
The one that confirmed her true loyalties.
“Catherine,” Emilia whispered.
The naval admiral cast an alarmed glance at Emilia’s blood-stained arms and clothes. “What have they done to you?”
Emilia looked down, frowning. “It’s…not mine.”
It wasn’t her most eloquent response, but at least she’d managed to say something.
Did Maria know they’d been boarded?
Emilia needed to warn her, somehow.
She noticed a window cracked open behind Catherine—and realized that she’d caught it early.
Perhaps, no one else had boarded yet.
The sea rumbled again, and Emilia grasped the beam beside her to prevent herself from falling.
“Don’t worry,” Catherine said, as if Emilia had any idea what she was talking about. “I have more ships. I meant for this one to sink.”
So, that’s why the sea was rumbling like an unsettled stomach.
It was swallowing a whole damn ship.
But what did Catherine mean by ‘don’t worry?’ More ships was definitely a reason to worry.
Emilia stepped back, and her hand strayed to her sword.
Catherine noticed, and she narrowed those light blue eyes that Emilia had once adored.
“You’re armed,” Catherine said with a frown. “Why would she arm a prisoner?”
Prisoner?
Catherine thought Emilia was a prisoner?
So, that was why she hadn’t attacked. It wasn’t shock, like Emilia had assumed. It was a mistake.
She’d assumed Emilia was on her side.
Oh, how the tables had turned.
Emilia didn’t have the manipulative skills of Catherine, but perhaps, just perhaps, she could use this.
Emilia took a step forward, and despite the hatred seething inside her, she forced a smile. “How are you here?”
Catherine’s gaze softened at the sight of her smile. “I came to rescue you.”
A fresh wave of hatred rose in Emilia’s throat. Did Catherine really think she was that gullible?
Emilia took another step forward, but still, Catherine’s boots didn’t budge.
She’d seen Emilia’s sword, but apparently, she still thought Emilia was on her side.
“How did you know you’d find me here?” Emilia asked softly.
Catherine floundered a little at that. Perhaps Emilia had called Catherine’s bluff a little too soon.
Emilia prepared to draw her sword.
But Catherine pulled a brass spyglass from her belt and held it up. “I saw you.”
It looked similar to the one Maria used—but without the tarnish. If Maria hadn’t been able to see Catherine from that distance, Catherine definitely couldn’t have seen Emilia.
And Emilia had spent the last hour in the hold—not that Catherine would ever guess that.
“I don’t understand,” Emilia said. “The last time we saw each other, you were going to kill me.”
“What?” Catherine said with a sickeningly innocent smile. “I would never kill you, Emilia.”
It was weird to hear her full name, after being called Em for months. It felt as if Catherine were talking about a person who no longer existed.
Only Maria called her Emilia now—and she’d only done so under a very…specific circumstance.
Emilia’s skin warmed at the memory.
“You wouldn’t kill me with your own hand, perhaps,” Emilia said, though she doubted even that was true, “but you were plenty willing to lead me to the gallows.”
“No,” Catherine said, and now, it was her, who stepped closer. One more step, and Emilia would have her. “I sent the guards away, remember?” She took one more step and then cupped Emilia’s face in her hands. “I let you escape, remember?”
Emilia’s chest ached at the familiar touch, and she had to force herself to not cringe away from it.
How did Catherine’s cool hands still feel so familiar? After all of these months?
“You let me escape,” Emilia repeated, pure venom on her tongue.
She’d outsmarted Catherine, used her vanity against her, and now, Catherine wanted credit for it?
Catherine hesitated. She’d heard the anger in Emilia’s voice. She dropped her hands and reached for her sword.
But Emilia already had her fingers around her own. Using a close range tactic that Maria had taught her just one night earlier, Emilia drew her sword and twirled it in a swift, controlled wave.
‘Control is key,’ Maria had said.
She hit Catherine’s wrist in the upswing, knocking the sword from her hand, then turned her wrist to let the blade land against the left side of Catherine’s neck.
Catherine froze, when the sharp steel pressed into her skin. “Where did you learn that?” she breathed.
Emilia smiled. “Not from you.”
The dark shadow of disbelief and betrayal passed over Catherine’s face.
As if she knew anything of betrayal…
“That’s her move. She uses that,” Catherine said. She still didn’t say Maria’s name. Was she afraid of it? “Why would someone who kidnapped you teach you that?”
Emilia lifted her eyebrows. “Did I say she kidnapped me?” When Catherine’s light blue eyes widened in horror, Emilia said, “I don’t think I did.”
“But if she didn’t, then—” Catherine tried to step back, but Emilia kept the blade against her throat. “That would make you a pirate.”
“A pirate and a witch,” Emilia said, her smile absolutely vicious. “What are you going to do? Hang me twice?”
Catherine’s eyes darkened. “I thought you were different, Em.”
“Different got my people killed,” Emilia reminded her. “Now, I’ll be whatever I have to be.”
“A villain?” Catherine sneered.
Emilia ignored the insult. She’d once defended her use of magic. She’d once fretted at the thought of anyone calling her a villain.
But those days were over. If Catherine wanted to make her the villain of this story, Emilia would let her.
“Has anyone else boarded the ship?” Emilia asked.
Defiance gleamed in Catherine’s light blue eyes. “I am the Admiral of the King’s Navy, and you think you can get answers out of me?”
Emilia shrugged one shoulder. “If I can’t, I’m sure the captain can.”
For the first time, Emilia recognized the dark glint of jealousy in Catherine’s light blue eyes. “Captain?”
A smile came naturally to Emilia’s lips. “My captain.”
On the deck, cheers roared across the ship, as the crew celebrated their victory. Another naval ship swallowed by the sea, thanks to Captain Maria Welles and her unquenchable thirst for naval blood.
Emilia hated to ruin the celebration, but…Maria needed to know.
Gradually, the cheers quietened—a slow and steady decrescendo, as one sailor after another recognized the woman Emilia held at the point of her sword.
Maria was one of the last people to notice, but when she did, a hatred unlike anything Emilia had ever seen darkened those large, brown eyes of hers.
Catherine stiffened at the sight, but Emilia urged her up the steps.
