Sky Pirate (Belles & Bullets Book 3)

by Caylen McQueen

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you pestering me?” With a heavy sigh, Roderick returned his head to the tabletop.

  “I was worried about you. I thought you might be dead.”

  “Well... I'm not.” When he licked his lips, Roderick realized they were incredibly dry. Even if he'd spent the last three days in a desert, his lips wouldn't have been as devoid of moisture as they were at that moment.

  “Roderick, I think you need to get out of here. You need to pull yourself together. The other knights are starting to... well...” Aislainn hesitated to tell him the truth. “They're starting to laugh at you.”

  “They'd be laughing at me regardless. After all, I lost Lyneah and I lost my job. I'm sure that would make me a subject of ridicule no matter where I was.” Roderick scanned the room for a barmaid, since he was fresh out of drinks.

  “You haven't lost your job, you're only suspended,” Aislainn pointed out. “Eventually, you'll have to face your peers again. Do you really want them to remember you like this?”

  “Who asked you?” Roderick flagged down a barmaid and ordered an ale and a bottle of gin. When the barmaid was gone, he snorted at Aislainn. “Why should I care about your opinion of me?”

  “Because this behavior is unbecoming of a knight, and I know you know I'm right! Your father is a very important man, and if he saw you like this...”

  “I'm already a disgrace to him, I'm sure. I might as well be a disgrace and a degenerate.” When the barmaid dropped off his drinks, Roderick started thinking about his bill. After drinking nonstop for three days, he could only imagine how much he owed the pub.

  “You should be better than this, though!” Aislainn tried to encourage him. “You can be better than this!”

  “Why do you care?” Roderick asked as he poured himself a shot. “If I'm happy and I'm not hurting anyone else, I don't see what the problem is.”

  “You were always someone I respected, even if I didn't know you personally. It's sad to see you fall so far.” Aislainn's nose wrinkled as she watched him chug the shot. “Besides... you say you're not hurting anyone, but you're starting to reek. That hurts everyone.”

  She was only teasing him, but Roderick tried to wave her away with a grumble. He poured himself a second shot and brought it to his mouth. When he felt the shot glass brushing against his dry, cracked lips, he groaned. “Miss Cumberland, can you get me some juice and something to eat? I need it.”

  “Why are you asking me? Can't you ask a barmaid for that?”

  “Indeed. I could. But you seem so concerned about me, and you won't leave me alone... so I thought I'd put you to use.”

  Aislainn mumbled a few unladylike curse words as she marched to the bar. She ordered another stew, as well as an orange juice. When the food was ready, she returned to Roderick and slammed his bowl on the table. “There. Is there anything else you need, Sir Roderick? A sandwich, perhaps? Some bread? A hit on the head?”

  “A kiss would be nice. You have very nice lips. They're like lovely little pillows.” When she didn't look amused by his request, Roderick smiled and tried again. “Actually, I should probably apologize for the way I treated you last time. As drunk as I was, I only have a vague memory of what happened, but I'm pretty sure I treated you horribly.”

  “You did,” Aislainn confirmed with a sigh. “I was surprised. I didn't think the respectable Sir Roderick would act like that. And you continue to surprise me. I always expected you to be... different.”

  “Respectable?” Roderick took a bite of his stew, but not before throwing another shot of gin down his gullet. “I doubt anyone would call me respectable anymore. I was an idiot. I should have focused on my work. Instead, I let myself get manipulated by the ladies in my life.”

  “When things go wrong in my life, I try not to blame anyone but myself. I am the one who ultimately signed the contract that ruined my life. I'm the only one to blame!” Aislainn frowned. Thinking about her arrangement with the corpulent king made her shudder. “I should have been smarter. No matter how many times I was threatened, I should have found a way to get myself out of it.”

  “Contract?” One of Roderick's black eyebrows drifted to his forehead. “What contract?”

  “I'm talking about King Roen. When Lyneah married, I was forced to enter a contract with him. I basically... became his.” As much as Aislainn needed to unburden herself, it didn't make her feel better to discuss her plight with an inebriated man. “But I won't trouble you with the details. You have more important things to worry about than me.”

  “No... tell me about it. I'm interested.” Roderick shoved his gin aside and focused on his stew. Aislainn's eyes were so despondent, she deserved his undivided attention. He'd already had several shots, and yet he was remarkably clear-headed. His immunity to spirits was increasing every day.

  “It isn't important,” Aislainn insisted. “In fact, I should probably go...”

  When she rose from her chair, Roderick caught her arm, keeping her with him. “No... don't go. I enjoy the company, actually. I'd rather not be alone again. In fact, I hate being alone.”

  “No, I... I really must go.” She gently pulled her arm away and took a step back from the table. “It was lovely to see you again, Sir Roderick.”

  “Lovely!” He chuckled at the word. “Somehow, I really doubt that.”

  “Well, it would be lovelier if you were actually sober. I really hope you can pull yourself together, Sir Roderick, because you're better than this. You deserve better than this.” Aislainn's nose wrinkled as she glanced around the small, musty, crowded room. “This place is unworthy of you.”

  “Or maybe I'm not worthy of this place,” Roderick countered. “I don't deserve anything good.”

  Aislainn wanted to stay and correct his error, but she needed to get back to work. After flashing a final frown at Roderick, she left the pub and went back to the castle, where King Roen was unfortunately waiting for her. She hoped to find a moment of peace before he found her—but she wasn't so lucky. She would have much rather folded linens, dusted or tended to the princess' hair, but her new master demanded her company. When he found her in the hall, the king roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her to his bedchamber, ignoring her quiet words of protest.

  When he shoved her on the bed and lifted up her skirt, Aislainn didn't scream or deny him what he wanted. He was a king and she was a handmaiden—what was she supposed to do? Even when he was rough with her, all she could do was bear it with as much dignity as she could. She let the king have his way with her, even as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. When he started doing something she was uncomfortable with, she tried to fight, but it was useless. Roen brutalized her. He dominated her. He tugged her hair and shoved her face against the bed. He made her do whatever he wanted, and there was no way she could escape or get him to stop.

  Aislainn was trapped.

  Seventeen

  “This time, try shooting with your left hand,” Kieran coached his pupil. “Your right hand is your dominate hand, isn't it?”

  “Y-yes,” Tobias replied as he shifted the pistol to his left hand. It felt awkward at first, but he thought he could get used to it.

  “If you can hit a target with your left hand too, I'll give you a second gun. Two pistols are always better than one pistol. When bullets are flying from both of your hands, your enemy won't know what hit them.” When he watched Tobey raise the gun, Kieran was shaking his head. “Remember to keep your arm straight, boy.”

  Tobias sneered. “Boy?”

  “Tobey. I meant Tobey. Now keep your damn arm straight!” Kieran barked, hoisting Tobias' elbow. “After the sharpshooting you pulled off yesterday, I'm going to be disappointed if you can't make this work.”

  “I feel like you're turning me into a mercenary,” Tobias said, “and I'm not sure how I feel about it.”

  “I'm trying to turn you into something that isn't dead weight,” Kieran corrected him, then he pointed at the empty bottle of whiskey in the di
stance. “Line up the shot, and when you're ready, fire away.”

  When the whiskey bottle was shattered by Tobey's first shot, Kieran clapped him on the back. “That was damn good. I'm impressed. At the rate you're improving... hell, in another day or two, you'll probably surpass me.”

  “I d-d-doubt that.”

  “Don't underestimate yourself. You're a natural. Believe me, I don't coddle, and I don't say shit that I don't mean.” Kieran suddenly shoved a second pistol into Tobey's right hand. “Now, see if you can fire with both guns at once. If you look closely, you'll see two more bottles over there. Hit the leftmost bottle with the gun in your left hand, and the other bottle with the gun in your right.”

  In the last forty-eights hours, over a dozen people had joined their band of rebels. While it wasn't exactly an army, it meant their camp was much more crowded, and a few people had stopped to watch Tobias' shooting. The added pressure of spectators was both a hindrance and an inspiration. Tobey wanted to look like he knew what he was doing with a gun, so he concentrated as hard as he could. When he missed the left bottle and shattered the right one, he felt a bit disappointed with himself.

  “That's okay. That's alright. Hitting one is better than hitting none. I'd let you have another go at the dual pistols thing, but I'm afraid I've run out of bottles.” With a wink, Kieran added, “But that just means I'll have to drink more whiskey.”

  “There's still a bottle I haven't shattered. Should I try again?” Tobey asked.

  “Nah. I have a better idea. Wait here.” Kieran sprinted to his tent, disappeared for a moment, then returned with his favorite shotgun. “Why don't we try you on another weapon? I have enough shells. I don't mind letting you waste them.”

  “It's nice to know you think I'm a waste.” Tobias holstered his pistols and accepted the shotgun from Kieran's outstretched hand.

  “On the bright side, you'll no longer be a waste of space when your training's complete, so you have that to look forward to. Now... you're holding a very powerful weapon in your hands right now,” Kieran said. “It's important to hold a shotgun the correct way.” When Tobias lifted the gun, Kieran shoved the gun higher. “Your support arm needs to be cradling the front of the gun, and the stock should be pressed against your shoulder like this. When you're ready, aim down the barrel and--”

  “Kieran,” Tobias interrupted. “There's an airship.”

  “What?” When Kieran looked up, it was impossible to miss. A large but slim-bodied brown airship was drifting toward them, casting an immense shadow on the ground. “Shit! Is this a friend or foe? Either way, someone should probably tell our princess.” Kieran barked an order at Soren, then he turned to Tobias. “I guess we'll have to save the shotgun lesson for later.”

  “Who do you think this could be?”

  Kieran shrugged at Tobey's question. “No idea. They're not flying any colors, so it's impossible to say.”

  There was no skyport in the vicinity of the radio tower, so the airship approached with caution, touching the ground as gently as possible. When the mysterious visitors lowered a plank and disembarked, Kieran grumbled. It didn't take him long to recognize the man at the head of the half-dozen rogues who climbed off the ship.

  “Tobey, give me a gun,” Kieran said, holding out his hand. When his student didn't obey, he tried to rip one of the guns from Tobey's holsters, but Tobias quickly leapt backward, away from Kieran's impatient hand. “Give me a gun!” he hollered.

  “No! N-n-not until you tell me what you're using it for!”

  Kieran's blue eyes were wild with rage. “If the man who killed my brother wants to come to me, he's going to die. So give me a gun. I'm going to take him down.”

  “Wait... we don't even know why he's here. What if he's here to help us?” Tobey knew very little about Francis Doon, but he felt obligated to defend him. Captain Doon was a privateer and a fantastic fighter, and unless Tobias was mistaken, he was also a friend of Kitt's. In Dovyr, Tobey remembered she was desperate to find him. For that reason, he refused to relinquish a gun to Kieran.

  “Very well. I can do this without a gun!” Kieran's blade sang as he tore it from its sheath. With his sword brandished in front of him, he charged in the direction of Francis Doon.

  “Do you know where I can find Princess Lyneah?” Doon asked an unfriendly-looking fellow with a crooked glass eye. “I need to speak to her. Is she nearby?”

  The man didn't say anything, he just stared at Doon, gaping stupidly.

  “Princess Lyneah!” Doon cried her name, loud enough for any spectators to hear. “Does anyone know where I can find the princess?”

  “You aren't going to meet the princess, mate,” a hoarse voice threatened him. “You are, however, going to die.”

  When Doon turned in the direction of the speaker, his eyes danced with amusement. “Oh? Now that's no way to greet a potential ally, is it? This is a lot less hospitable than the tea and crumpets I was anticipating!”

  Ignoring the pirate's sarcasm, Kieran continued, “You don't know who I am, but I know who you are... and you're not going to leave this camp alive.” When he took step forward, Kieran pointed his sword at Doon's chest. “My name's Kieran McCray. You killed my brother, Rory McCray.”

  “Rory McCray was your brother?” Doon threw back his head and chuckled mockingly. “My god, your brother was a real joy to be around. I've never met anyone friendlier. I was even thinking of naming my scars after him. The ones he gave me, of course.”

  When Kieran swung at him, Doon unsheathed his sword and blocked in one swift movement.

  “Captain, do you want us to subdue this arse?” Doldy asked. “We can have him dead on the ground before you know it.”

  “No no no! He might be a friend of the princess, so I'd rather not kill him... if it can be avoided.” As he spoke, Doon easily blocked Kieran's second swing.

  “You actually think you can kill me? Oh, that's real funny!” Kieran swung at Doon again and again, but each time he did, the pirate was too fast for him. “I'd take on all of you, and I'll still have the strength to take on a few more.”

  “Hmm. That's sounds like swollen ego and bravado to me. I don't know if you're paying attention, but you haven't even scratched me yet!”

  “Oh, but I will!” Kieran promised him. His next swing was so powerful, Doon was forced to hop backward. “When I sink my sword into your chest, you won't be making any more stupid jokes!”

  Doon continued to block, but he never countered. He wanted to make peace with the princess; he didn't want to make a bad impression by carving up her welcoming committee.

  “Fight me!” Kieran demanded. “At least offer me some kind of challenge!”

  “Eh... I'd rather not.” Doon actually yawned as he blocked the mercenary's incoming blows. “I want the princess to like me. I'm not going to kill a random dunderhead and turn her against me. I didn't come all this way to waste my time.”

  Kieran's sword whistled through the air, narrowly missing Doon's face. Bryce, who was struggling to remain a bystander, had finally seen enough. When his captain was almost sliced, he stepped forward and punched the side of Kieran's head. Bryce's gigantic fist sent the surviving McCray to the ground, nearly knocking him unconscious.

  Doon started to help Kieran to his feet, but he was halted by the sound of a firing pistol. When he realized the shot was fired by none other than Princess Lyneah herself, he smiled. “Ah, Your Highness! I've been looking for you! You were asking for helpers, so naturally, I've come to help you. It isn't as if I expected to be welcomed with open arms, but this initiation process really leaves something to be desired.”

  “Captain Doon!” Lyneah hissed. While she kept her gun pointed at him, she noticed that several of Doon's pirates were pointing guns at her. If possible, she wanted to avoid a bloody standoff. “Why are you here?”

  “Didn't you hear me? I want to help you!”

  “But why?” Lyneah demanded a better answer than the one he gave her. “You work for my mo
ther. As far as I know, you've only ever been loyal to her. Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “It's a rather long story, but I'll give you the condensed version.” Doon cleared his throat before he began. “There's a girl in the castle who looks a lot like you.”

  “Kitt?”

  “Yes. Kitt.” Doon looked a bit surprised that she was already aware of that, but he continued undeterred. “She's there because of me. She's suffering because of me. She was forced to marry Prince Malik... because of me.” Doon's eyes briefly dropped to the ground, and then they fell on Kieran, who was still struggling to get to his feet. Bryce could certainly hit hard. “Queen Loreina thinks Kitt is her daughter... but if I bring her real daughter back home, Kitt will finally be free. I want to help you take back your castle, Lyneah. I want to help you take the throne, and I want to save Kitt.” With a smirk, he added, “I daresay my assistance will be invaluable to your cause.”

  “You value yourself highly, Captain Doon,” Lyneah noted. “You make it sound as if you could take on my mother's army single-handedly... even though you failed to assassinate Rory McCray. Perhaps you could stand to be a bit more humble?”

  “Hmm. But I killed Rory McCray eventually, didn't I? One tiny failure shouldn't affect my overall value.”

  “The man you killed was my fiance,” Lyneah pointed out. “Rory and I had an arrangement. You know that, yes?”

  Doon nodded slowly. “Ah... yes. Hmm. Sorry about that.”

  “No, you needn't apologize. I didn't care for him. Rory was... cruel.” Lyneah glanced at Tobey, who was standing beside her. She thought he looked a bit sad. “I'm sorry to say this in front of Kieran, but you probably did me a favor when you took him down. Even though I needed his army... in hindsight, he would have made a terrible king.”

  “Indeed.” Doon nodded again. “So let me do you another favor, Princess. Let me work for you! Right now, there's no one who wants you on the throne more than me. I can promise you that!”