Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

  Bluff rolls his eyes but remains silent.

  "I've learned before," Timmons says, his face solemn, "never count this guy out. I'll never bet against you, friend. Even if we're not always on the same side."

  Bluff nods, but his eyes are lifeless.

  "Will he get out of it once he knows what it'll cost?” the hairy pirate says, his voice deep and slow. “He cares about that lass as much as the captain.”

  Ink sneers. “Women are always a man's downfall. Might as well be sirens, each and every one of them."

  "What are you talking about?" Bluff asks quickly.

  It's silent for a long moment. The large pirate turns to Timmons with a subtle smirk still on his face. Timmons, however, looks less than pleased.

  "You asked about your price, well, it's not exactly gold."

  Bluff blinks rapidly, and I hold in a breath, looking around and remembering that our best ally isn't currently on The Freedom...

  "Stede has Rosemera. And he's offered an exchange for you two."

  Bluff

  My whole body sinks into the chair when Timmons finally tells me the terms of our ransom. As much as it doesn’t shock me—the idea that this pirate crew I loved like family could betray me—I also knew it would take a lot.

  I assumed it was something more than gold—blackmail. A promise of power. Something they couldn't resist.

  The life of Rosemera... well that’s more than enough.

  I don't even blame them, not one little bit. Especially since she's only in this predicament because of me. She wouldn't have been in New York. She wouldn't have been connected to us if I hadn't pulled her in to help.

  I hate to think what could have happened to her. She's strong, stronger than most the men on her crew. But that doesn't stop me from wondering. From worrying.

  Ink was right. Women are always a man's downfall. Even if you're not in love—or lust—with them, they still have a way of pulling your heart in. Making you feel things. Making you weak.

  Rosemera is no different.

  I'd die for her. Which is why this just got a whole lot harder. Now I have to worry that if Whitley and I do find a way to escape that it'll cost Rosemera her life. For that, I'd never forgive myself.

  I press my eyes closed for a long minute.

  "So that it?" Timmons asks after a bit. "You giving up?"

  He must have noticed how limp my body went, how my soul seeped away, sinking into the sea.

  "As he well should," Ink says with a gravelly voice.

  Their footsteps recede but return not long after. They untie us and drag us over to The Freedom.

  "Good riddance," one of the mob boys shouts at me as I'm prompted to climb aboard. I don't respond. I don't fight. Just move.

  One glance behind tells me Whitley follows suit, without a word. She quietly climbs the rickety ladder like a pro. The girl learns quickly at least.

  Once aboard the ship, the rest of the crew watches silently. “Tie him to the foremast,” the captain says without looking at me. “I want eyes on him all times.”

  Unsurprising. I’ve found my way out of a brig on more than one occasion.

  Only whispers float through the air as I'm pushed against the foremast, arms pulled behind me and tied in several of their tightest knots, so tight they cut off my circulation. There's little they can do that I can't untie with enough time. It'll just take me all night.

  Whitley is guided to the same spot, but there's discussion as to whether she should be tied as well. A few derogatory suggestions are thrown out, and I realize her safety is in jeopardy on this ship for the first time. If I'm not an ally any longer—why not take advantage of the situation?

  "Do not touch her," I say with as low and loud of a voice as I can muster.

  The captain raises his eyebrows at me. "I have no such plans of making her a plaything, lad."

  "I'm not talking to you."

  A few chuckles reverberate through the ship. I know better than to think just because the captain doesn't give permission, doesn't mean a few of the crew won’t try. They're already thinking it, already whispering about it.

  I won't let it happen. Tied up or not. "Touch her—"

  "And you'll what?" Ink says, stepping forward boldly. "You're done for, lad. Magic gone in a poof."

  "I'll bring the sirens down on you," I hiss the words, low and slow. "I don't need my hands for that. This ship won't ever see the light of another day."

  It's silent. No one speaks. Not one snicker leaves one set of lips. Even Ink's eyes are large, mouth parting.

  The wind blows eagerly, sails already catching on the strong salty wind of the ocean.

  "You heard the boy. Don't touch the girl, yeah?" The captain shouts. "Tie her up beside him, and let's get this bloody business over with."

  NEITHER WHITLEY NOR I speak for a long while. Our backs face each other, both pressed against the same pole, hands tied behind us. The only way our hands don't come into contact is through tense, awkward effort.

  But I don't want to touch her if she doesn't want me to touch her.

  At least an hour passes. The coast fades quickly from view. We don't know where we're headed or how long it'll take to get there. I'm almost surprised we're not just headed back into New York to meet Stede.

  Must be he wanted a safer meeting point, one without a hovering military.

  Will we be traveling all the way to the Caribbean, then? Bermuda is another possibility that would only take a day or two, but it would sure put the crew on edge.

  "Why do they believe you have control over the sirens?" Whitley's voice surprises me, soft but unexpected.

  "Long story."

  "I think we have a while."

  I can see her curling her legs under her body from the corner of my eye. Is she still nervous someone might come for her? That's unlikely now. Sailors tend to be a superstitious bunch, and even those that aren't have seen enough to be unwilling to test my words.

  "They don't know if I'm bluffing or not. But they're not willing to risk it. That's really all there is to it. No one knows exactly what kind of powers I have. Not even me if I'm honest."

  I'm still avoiding the root of her question. I know it. She knows it. Yet for whatever reason, I don't want her to know that truth. I don't even like speaking the words.

  For too long, the wind rushing through the sails is the only sound on board. The sun is already beginning to set. It's been one of the fastest days of my life—and the longest. I suppose it helps that I was unconscious for a few hours of it.

  "Did you really give up?" she whispers finally.

  "I don't know. I don't want to risk Rosemera's life for mine." Would I risk Rosemera's for Whitley's? That's a question I don't want to answer.

  "Do you really think they got her?" Whitley whispers, her sadness obvious.

  "I hadn't thought to doubt it. She was right there when the crew came."

  "It's possible she got away though, right?"

  I nod. "She's a good pirate. Smart. A good fighter. They wouldn't have even known she was there, though, if they hadn't at least come close to capturing her."

  I think it through. It makes sense for her to have been caught. But what do we know? What proof did they give? Are they just using the situation to their advantage?

  "I almost wonder if she'd be offended that we’re assuming she needs to be saved."

  I smirk. She's right, Rosemera would be. She'd spend every moment trying to free herself, and she'd hate the idea of me giving up and assuming she'd fail.

  "You're kinda smart, you know that?"

  "Gee thanks," Whitley says quietly. She's not happy. I mean, why would she be? We are on our way to our worst nightmares, each of us. But I mean something else. She's mad at me. I haven't spent much time thinking about her. She's been talking to me, but I haven't given much back. "Are you all right?" I ask, sincerely.

  She doesn't respond.

  I bite my lip. "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

 
; "Everything." I mean it. I'm the reason she's in entangled in this mess to start. I suppose she doesn't actually know that, though. She thinks this was all about her father, when he was really just a pawn. Just the sign that pointed to her as the target of the prophecy.

  Daughter of the scheming land-dweller

  A man so bold as to betray a pirate

  A beauty of golden hair and secret of low birth

  Will control the Son of the Sea, cause him to fall

  She alone holds the power to enslave him

  Control him, even to his death.

  "You never tell me anything, you know that?" Her tone is salty. I don't blame her. I've spent so much time being mad at her for the prophecy, for what I assume she'll do, that I've ignored who she really is. Which is surprisingly amazing.

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Everything."

  I let out a bitter laugh. "Touché." She does deserve more from me, given the circumstances. "Ask me anything, and I'll answer it honestly. I swear."

  She's quiet again. I watch as the sky changes color—oranges and pinks, fading into purple at the horizon.

  "What's your real name?"

  I cough out a laugh. "Really? That's the deep dark secret you want to pull from me?"

  "I just want to know it," she whispers.

  My heart twists. It sounds like such an intimate thing when she says it like that.

  "Nalin." My stomach remains uneasy, imagining the name on her lips. She never says it though. For some reason, I really want her to. Calling a pirate by his real name is usually an insult. We change them for a reason. We don't want to be that person anymore.

  Somehow, this feels different. I want her to know me, all of me. Even the parts I hide.

  "So you were telling the truth, with the river pirates."

  "No real reason to lie."

  "Seems like lying comes naturally to you."

  I take in a deep breath. "Not lying. Just... withholding the truth. Hiding."

  She relaxes her arms for the first time in over an hour of being tied to the ship. Her hands grazes against mine and I have to resist the urge to grip it. Just to touch her skin...

  "Did you mean it?" she asks, this time her voice so low I almost can't hear it. I grow dizzy with the sadness laced in the words. I want to turn to her, hold her, but the ropes won't allow it.

  "Mean what?"

  She clears her throat, forcing the words to have more strength than before. "When we were running from Stede's crew in New York, you told me..." She pauses, "You said you didn't care about my happiness. Is that true?"

  I bite my lip, thinking back, not immediately sure what's she's referring to.

  I was still upset with her over the way she kissed me as Jeb. I thought for sure she'd be mad at me for ripping her away from her golden life, that she'd want to go back and I... I couldn't bear hearing her say it.

  Now, I know more about what her time there was really like. I think about the ring she gave to Knick, about what that ring meant. Her father was going to force her to marry some old man... Is that what she took from my comment? That, like her father, I didn't actually care about her happiness—just whatever I could gain from her.

  "No,” I say, but I'm not sure how to explain. "I was..." Honesty, I remind myself. She deserves that much, even though this is the worst kind. "I was mad at you," I whisper.

  "About what?"

  I take in a long breath. "I thought—I thought you were going to tell me you wanted to go back to him. I... didn't want to hear the words. So, I was unnecessarily harsh. But even then, what I really meant was that I didn't care about what you wanted, I just needed to keep you safe." I release the remaining breath through my nose.

  "I knew it was you," she says not for the first time. "I told you that once before, but I don't think you believed me."

  "I still don't," I say. I did promise to be honest. That kiss wasn't for me. She may have realized it was me after the fact, but during... there's no way she could have known. It happened too fast. No one has ever been able to figure it out that quickly.

  "I could... feel it. You. I don't know how to explain it."

  I shake my head and don't respond. That doesn't make any sense.

  "I'm not the pirate. You can believe me."

  I smirk. "You're a woman. I definitely can't."

  "I think about it all the time." Her voice sends a shiver down my spine. "I've never been kissed like that before."

  My whole body buzzes with excitement over those words. God, do I want to do it again. I hate how much I want her. How much of a pull she has over me.

  Stupid prophecy.

  "Trust doesn't come easy to me," I tell her, hoping my change of subject takes. My heart is racing, cheeks burning.

  "I guess I can understand that. Maybe... maybe I'll find a way to prove it to you."

  I am both frustrated and relieved that our bonds make it impossible to touch more than hands.

  Whitley

  The crashing of waves and gentle lull of a rocking ship put my body at ease despite the fact that I'm bound by itchy rope and headed towards a crew that very well may disembowel me.

  Or perhaps it's Bluff's hand in mine that keeps my anxiety at bay.

  I don't know how long I slept, but when I finally open my eyes the sun is high in the sky, and the crew is bustling about us, sending side-eyes our way as they work. Apparently, no one trusts Bluff, roped or not.

  "Bluff?"

  "You're finally awake?" he asks, amusement in his voice.

  "How long did I sleep?"

  "Hard to say. But a while, it seems. You were talking in your sleep. It was endearing."

  I groan, not sure I even want to ask what I said.

  "Funny because I didn't sleep a wink."

  "When's the last time you slept?" It had to have been a while; we've been on the run for far too long.

  "Not sure. But—unlike some people— I can't relax enough for sleep in a situation like this."

  I smirk. I don't know how I slept either. Just happened.

  The crew walk with their backs straighter as they pass, eyes alert and darting around. Tension lines their necks and faces. They seem suspicious of any conversation between us.

  "They seem just as uptight," I say, noting a small black man limping past, narrowed eyes pinned to me.

  "They should be," Bluff whispers.

  I pause for a beat, not wanting to give anything away if he has something in mind. "You have a plan?"

  "A plan to make a plan. But that won't surprise these guys. I'm going to need something more."

  "Like? Can I help with something?"

  "You're my complication, to be honest. I could get out of my binds and hide among the crew. They'd have no way of knowing who I was if I played my cards right... but I can't hide you. And you're worth more than I am."

  My eyebrows pull down at that. "Why?" I say after a beat. "What is my value, Bluff?"

  He's quiet for several long moments. I'm just some girl whose father swindled a pirate. I can't be worth as much as all this. I can't be worth more than a shapeshifting boy who can potentially call sirens at will... Unless there is something I'm missing. Something big.

  "Is our time of honesty already over?"

  He lets out a long breath through his nose. "I'm just not sure now is the time. We need to get out of here. And this... is complicated."

  I bite my lip and pull my hand farther from his under the guise of stretching. I am rather sore from sitting in this strange position for hours, shoulders bent strangely behind me.

  "I'll tell you. I promise. But can you trust me enough to wait?"

  I don't know if I trust him. I don't know how much a promise means to him. But he's right about one thing: our top priority is getting free. If we can do that, it won't matter what I mean to Captain Stede. It may not even matter what I mean to Bluff.

  "If we can get free, the rest won't matter, I suppose."

  He takes in a long breath before
responding. "There's a lot I should tell you. Let's just make sure we have enough time left in our lives to do it."

  "All right.”

  "While you were sleeping, I got a little more information," he says under his breath. "We're set to meet Stede on an Island north of the Bahamas, which, with friendly winds, is a five-day sailing from New York."

  "Any word about Rosemera?"

  "Just that Stede sent a letter with blood on it, a lock of her hair, and the handkerchief she wears."

  "That doesn't sound good."

  "It sounds wonderful to me." I wish I could see Bluff's face from here, talking back to back makes it so much harder to understand the nuances of the conversation. Is he smirking right now?

  "How exactly is that wonderful?"

  "It means they don't have her. Probably never did."

  I blink. "How do you know?"

  "I'm the king of bluffing. I know when I see one." This time I don't need to see the smirk to know it's there.

  "You're enjoying this too much."

  "You must realize that Stede has developed a reputation. He's cruel. His main tool is fear. He enjoys the hunt as much as he enjoys causing pain. There is no chance he'd send a lock of hair. He'd send in a finger. An ear. A slice of the tattoo on her belly."

  I shiver.

  "Unless he doesn't really have her. And that handkerchief—do you think she’d wear that into a ball? Not a chance. She left it behind in some alleyway after we stole her dress. She was hesitant to leave it, trust me. But I'm certain it was not on her when Stede came."

  My heart leaps to hear all this evidence. Rosemera isn't really in trouble! And Stede doesn't have any real leverage. "Can't you tell the crew all this? If they know Stede doesn't have Rosemera they won't turn us over."

  "Unfortunately, I have also developed a reputation. Comes with the name, I suppose."

  "They'll assume you're lying."

  "Aye. Telling the truth on a pirate ship doesn't get you far. You have to do things on your own. But it does mean one thing: I'll have no issues doing whatever it takes to get us free."

  Bluff

  As the sun sets, my eyes grow heavy, and I contemplate a nap before I enact the first part of my plan. It wouldn't hurt to wait until after midnight to break free of my confines. The problem is, if I fall asleep, I don't know how long it will be until I wake, and this must start tonight.