by Clare Sager
If the Navy had their way, it was the last night she’d see.
With a heavy breath out, she took his hand and walked into the darkness.
They slipped between the shadows. Her own slowness pained her, but at least her step was as quiet as ever. Thank the fair folk for her fae blood, maybe there was some truth in the old wives’ tale that they could walk silently, even over a hall of shattered glass.
Her breath was too loud in her ears. And her heart – it roared in a fast, uneven beat, making her clutch her chest. But apparently, she was the only one who could hear it, because Knigh didn’t turn and tell her to hush.
They swept west, then south, judging by the paler shade of blue behind, then turned left. He had to be leading them in a route to avoid all those marines.
Swallowing, she squeezed his hand. If they find us …
When they paused in the next alleyway, she caught her breath. That smell – was that …
She sniffed the air. Yes. A low groan slipped from her mouth. The sea. They were near. It called to her, said that if she just spread her awareness, it would cradle her, weightless, away from the pain, away from the blasted weakness shaking through her limbs.
Knigh glanced back the way they’d come as she released his hand and crept further into the alley.
Waves lapped at ships, smacking and splashing and rushing.
Lords, they were so close. She could taste the iodine and salt tang now, the odd seaweed flavour of ocean air in Albion, different from that of Arawaké.
She rounded a corner and there they were – the civilian docks. If she’d been well enough to, she’d have run.
But this wasn’t a time for running. Taking a long breath, she peeked out from. No sign of marines left, and –
Knigh yanked her back into the alley, finger to his lips, brows in a furious knot, eyes glinting in the dimness.
Footsteps.
To Hide in Plain Sight
Men’s voices. Marines or dockers on their way to work?
She and Knigh stood inches apart, bodies rigid, breaths heaving in the same air. Barnacle hunched, stiff on her shoulders.
To come so close and be caught …
The thought tore at her. If the wall hadn’t been at her back and Knigh at her front, she’d have fallen.
“Marines?” she mouthed.
He shifted the barest inch, eyes intent down the road. The way his jaw tensed said yes, but he nodded anyway.
Bollocks.
This was it.
Bollocks!
No.
She shook her head. They hadn’t come this bloody far.
They were looking for her – an escaped pirate in a flashy red coat, dirty and dishevelled. With a little luck, they didn’t know Knigh had helped her, either.
They could make this work.
A long breath. A nod. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
His gaze snapped back from the road. “What?”
“When they come close, you’d better bloody kiss me.”
A pained look creased over his face.
Of course, kissing her now she was all skin and bone wasn’t exactly appealing. Well, it wasn’t for his enjoyment.
Chin lifting in challenging invitation, she grabbed his shirt and slid her other hand into his hair, hiding that tell-tale white streak. Maybe they knew he was involved and had his description.
The footsteps, the voices grew louder.
Barnacle jumped off her shoulder and huddled against her ankles.
His chest heaved, once, twice, then his head bowed, and his lips were on hers.
Lords and Ladies, she’d missed them.
It was only meant to be a way of hiding in plain sight, a way to explain their presence in the alley. But somehow the tentativeness of his mouth, the gentle touch of his hands circling her waist, holding her upright … Wild Hunt damn it, it was far more devastating than all the hungry, passionate kisses they’d shared.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, so thick, so luxurious. His scent of cinnamon and soap mingled with her beloved sea air and crowded away thoughts of marines and escape until they were the mere distant concerns of mortals.
He stroked her cheek, smearing something wet up into her temple as his hand slid into her hair, and he angled her face for better access. Still slow, still gentle, their tongues brushed, the touch almost reverent.
Heart clamouring, painful, fast, she clung to him. This – no, it felt like goodbye. And she wasn’t ready for that. Everyone else had left. He was the only one who’d come back. And the bastard had made her like him. Even if he had –
Laughter and catcalls yowled from the road. The marines. She twitched away, but Knigh’s fingers flexed against her scalp, holding her mouth against his.
Hiding in plain sight. Right. That’s all this was.
“Did you get a good look at her?” A deep voice pitched for the other marines, not her and Knigh.
Her skin prickled, ice cold. Buggeration. She was the only ‘her’ around. If they came closer …
Her chest tightened. Knigh’s hand on her waist stiffened. Their breaths blew together, harsh. Should they break off and run or –
A set of footsteps approached.
They were nearly at the ship. Running would only take them further from that promised escape. She needed to get back to the sea, back to Arawaké and, hopefully, back to Perry.
Maybe if she gave them a good show, they wouldn’t want to interrupt …
Groaning as if this were the most erotic experience of her life, she wrapped her legs around Knigh. He tensed, but took her weight, cradling her.
More laughter. “Ooh-hoo-hoo! Looks like they’re getting frisky, lads. Better leave them to it, eh?”
The footsteps stopped.
“Come on – let’s not spoil their fun.”
The guffaws grew quieter as the main body of marines must’ve drifted away down the street. But that single set of footsteps that had come close didn’t start up again. He had to be deciding what to do.
Piss off.
Knigh pressed her against the wall, hand running up her leg and pushing up her skirts. Good, he’d got the picture.
Her pulse pounded in her chest, her throat, her head. Never had she focused so hard on listening whilst kissing someone.
“Hmm.” Footsteps again, but fading. “Give her one from me, mate!”
At last, they pulled apart with heavy breaths. Her heart was going to explode, it was beating so fast, part-fear, part something she couldn’t place.
He lowered her to her feet before wiping his cheeks. Hers were wet too. Frowning, she knuckled it away. They were both just tired. So, so tired.
In silence, they stood there, not meeting each other’s gazes while they waited for the marines’ footsteps to disappear entirely.
Just hiding in plain sight. That was all.
Attempting to distract herself, she peered out from the alley in time to see the marines go around a corner.
Barnacle settled back on her shoulders, and with Vice’s tight nod, they continued on their way in silence. Despite adjusting their course to avoid the patrols, Knigh had directed them well, because they emerged directly opposite the jetty where the Swallow was moored.
With a quiet greeting, Knigh hailed a tanned young man with round, dark eyes.
“You’re early.” From someone else, it might have been a rebuke, but the way he smiled so broad, so open, he clearly didn’t mind. “Well, we can get underway – the tide’s with us already.”
He waved them aboard, and Knigh made brief introductions – thankfully setting sail prevented anything longer. Much as she was curious to meet a friend of Knigh Blackwood’s and much as this Billy seemed warm, his joviality grated this morning.
It had been a long night.
And, she reminded herself with a glance at the distant grey castle, it wasn’t over yet.
They still had to make good their escape.
In the End
Between giving or
ders to his crew, Billy waved Vice and Knigh aft, saying they’d get the best view and wouldn’t be in the way up at the stern of the quarterdeck.
Holding hands, they went in silence. The only noises were the crew’s voices as they worked and the sounds of a vessel – wind and canvas and wave. Barnacle jumped down from Vice’s shoulders and began sniffing her way around the ship.
Vice’s lips still tingled from that kiss. Their last. Ever.
Knigh’s hand on hers was a death grip. Maybe he was still feeling the after-effects, too. Or maybe it was just the close call with the marines.
Once they pushed away from the jetty, the ship swayed, and she blew a long sigh. Movement, that was better. Just like she’d said to Knigh in deLacy’s horrible still ballroom. That part of their conversation hadn’t been a lie.
They reached the rail, and she leant partially against it and partially against Knigh. They looked astern, watching Portsmouth drift further away.
The wind tugged her hair as if it were glad to see her back. Although she could affect the weather over land, it was always easier at sea. Maybe something about the combination of her gifts or just some fae-blooded affinity with the sea. Who knew?
Without any help from her – she had too little energy left – that same wind filled the Swallow’s sails and pushed them along.
Warm at her side, Knigh squeezed her hand as they watched the shops, taverns, and wharves on the seafront grow smaller …
Eyes aching, chest tight, she scanned the jetties. Marines could still appear. Their rifles could easily cover this distance. Something about the tension in Knigh’s body against hers said he thought the same.
… Smaller …
Nothing yet. But their way could be blocked. Swallowing, she turned to check fore. Ahead was only sea – the gap that would lead them out from between Portsmouth and the Isle of Wights.
… Smaller …
The buildings on the seafront were just a dark line with the pinkish dawn starting behind.
No bells sounded an alarm. Maybe they hadn’t found her empty cage yet. Maybe Knigh was right, and they were keeping it quiet. With a little luck, they’d stay quiet until she was out on the open ocean.
The tension in his arm ebbed, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand.
She nodded. She felt it too.
They were away.
She sighed the deepest sigh of her life.
“Thank you, Knigh.”
But the words tasted bitter. And his hand under hers … the touch of his skin was warm, but it also prickled.
He’d come for her in that cage when no one else had. He’d saved her life. And he’d given up so much to do it. His status as a law-abiding subject. His country. His career.
For him, it wasn’t just a career. It was inextricably spliced with his identity, like two ends of rope neatly joined. Then there was his family’s financial stability and independence from Mercia.
Knigh was now a fugitive fleeing Albion.
And he’d done it all for her.
But.
She clenched her jaw. She’d only needed saving because of his betrayal.
Who knew if her body would ever be right again? If this damage was permanent …
She shook, blood burning, skin cold, trapped between horror and anger.
If it was permanent, it would be his fault. She’d be weak and vulnerable forever, maybe not able to use her gift properly, and it would all be because of him.
Because he was too bloody stupid to understand she hadn’t actually killed Avice Ferrers. Because he’d been too ready to believe she was the villain his beloved Navy claimed.
Because he’d done the inevitable: he’d let her down.
She should have known.
Wild Hunt, she had known.
People always let you down in the end.
And here was the perfect case in point, so bloody tempting with that gorgeous face, flawless body, and … and …
Breaths too fast, she squeezed his sodding hand.
Bastard.
Despite all that, his closeness was comforting.
Lords and Ladies, it would be easy to continue like this, especially since they were posing as husband and wife. But … It had been a comforting lie to get through last night. It had served its purpose, and now the desperation and fear of escape had faded. And she couldn’t just forget what he’d done.
She swallowed it down – stamped it down. She didn’t want him, didn’t need him. Just bodies, that was all. She didn’t care about him. He didn’t mean anything to her except a route back to Arawaké where she belonged.
Nodding, she pulled her hand from his grip. “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin, smiling, “thank you so much for getting me out of the mess you got me into in the first place.”
He stilled, head turning towards her, brow creasing in an expression that, on him, was the equivalent of breaking. “Vee, don’t –”
She scoffed, outrage bubbling in her veins. “Don’t you dare tell me ‘don’t’. Not after what you did.” For something to do with her hands and to keep them far, far away from him, she folded her arms. “I’m being reasonable. I’m coming with you now but purely out of convenience and because it’s my only chance to escape.”
Closing his eyes, he bowed his head. It shouldn’t have, but his defeat pierced her.
Weak. You’re being weak, Vice.
She scowled at the distant shape of Portsmouth, its lights flickering in windows as the city awoke to the news that Lady Vice had escaped. That victory wasn’t nearly as sweet as it should have been.
“I’m not leaving you …” He said it so softly it was almost lost in the sound of the Swallow’s wake. “Until … until you’re better, at least. Then you can tell me to throw myself under the Wild Hunt’s hooves.”
“Good.” There was too much to do, and much as it set her teeth on edge, she couldn’t do it all alone. Besides, the treasure would benefit him, too. She touched the neckline of her gown and smiled stiffly. “You have a family to provide for, and I have the means to help.”
He blinked, then looked at her sidelong, maybe checking whether she’d lost her mind.
“You might have betrayed me, and I might hate you for it, but for now we’re allies. As I’ve tried to tell you before, I’m not a monster.” None of this was easy for her, no way was she going to make it easy on him.
She raised an eyebrow, keeping her expression all sharp edges. “Even I can appreciate that you’ve lost everything tonight. But your family shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with my family,” he muttered, rigid as his mask glided into place.
“I don’t need to, but I choose to. They’ve already been let down by your father, I’m not going to let you disappoint them, too.”
Urgh, when had she started caring about people she hadn’t even met? It was his fault.
She tore her gaze from him and watched Portsmouth’s lights disappear behind the Isle of Wights. A relieved sigh huffed from her. It wasn’t total safety, but they were that bit further away with no warships in pursuit.
“So.” He cleared his throat. “What now?”
She tightened her arms and leant her hip against the rail. Her damn knees were already wobbling. “Well, assuming we survive this and make it all the way to Arawaké, I’m going to get my revenge on FitzRoy and everyone who’s betrayed me.” The thought was hot and bright like a brand, and it made her smile.
“But he’s back there, he’s –”
“Retired, I know.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Really, Blackwood, how many times do I need to tell you? I’m not a murderer, whatever you might think. If I wanted to kill FitzRoy, I’d have done it already. I had the chance. I could have killed him in his sleep, with your dagger. Kind of fitting, eh? Considering you worked together to betray me.”
She smiled cruelly, but the way he snatched his gaze away gave her no pleasure. He’d even taken the fun out of mocking him.
“I’m going to find Perry, get a ship, and take the thing FitzRoy wants most in all the world.”
Knigh’s eyebrows rose. “Gold?”
She grinned, a proper, full grin. He might have predicted her behaviour well enough to capture her, but she could still surprise him, it seemed. “Better than that.”
The skin around his eyes tightened, curious, calculating.
“This.” She pulled FitzRoy’s pouch from the front of her stays. “He hinted at what it was.” A clue to Drake’s treasure – a real clue. “I haven’t even looked at it yet, but he was wearing it as he slept, so I’m inclined to believe him.”
Knigh narrowed his eyes at the pouch, then he sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. From the wreck? You think it’s …” He shook his head, incredulity blatant in the rise of his eyebrows. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut again in silence.
She snorted and pushed the pouch back in place. No doubt he’d been about to say again how it was all a myth but thought better of it considering her current mood. Wise man.
“So,” he said, at last, gaze drifting over the white foam kicked up behind them, “you’re still going after it, then?”
Chuckling, she shook her head. The poor man hadn’t realised, had he?
She let him squirm in the quiet as she scanned the cloudless sky, marking the fading stars – the same stars that would help guide them once they were back in Arawaké. Soon. And her strength would return over the trip. It would. It had to.
“No. I’m not.” She smirked, watching him huff a soft breath, maybe of relief.
He nodded. “I mean, I can see how that would … vex him. If you managed it. But the whole thing is a –”
“Captain Blackwood,” she said, lifting her chin, raising her eyebrows, “you didn’t let me finish.”
