Tink slipped the glossy purple ribbon into the novel to mark his place. Although the book weighed more than she did, she hugged the spine with her slender arms before lifting the leather-bound tome away to the adjacent end table. Sprites possessed supernatural, otherworldly strength in their tiny bodies comparable to humans, and she was no exception.
She darted to the foot of the bed, grasped the folded-down blanket edge, and dragged it over his slumbering frame. With everything set to rights, she helped herself to his extra pillow and tugged the blanket corner over her body, too.
Chapter
TO TAKE COUNT of the days since her arrival on the ship, Tink made hash marks on a sheet of stationery taken from the desk, creating a calendar for herself inside the dollhouse. A single down feather from the slain sea hawk provided a quill for her to write. Before that, she’d counted the nights with petals torn from a flower in the dollhouse garden.
James jerked his attention from his writing in time to catch her making off with a small droplet of black liquid from the open inkwell. “Were you drawing again?” James asked. “You’ve left little handprints over everything,” he muttered.
Tink dropped her head in repentance until he touched her chin with the tip of his forefinger. She blinked up at him.
“Here.” He dipped his pen into the inkwell then issued a tiny stream into a thimble. “You always spill a little. Your vessel is far too small for the amount you try to take.”
Delighted by his generosity, she hurried back to her gilded home.
Seventeen days. She’d been a willing captive of the Jolly Roger for seventeen days since James had opened her cage door for the first time. He hadn’t locked it again since they reached their understanding. She ate each meal with him, but she’d yet to acquire the courage to venture outside and see the deck. Thus far, her adventure had been a complete mess, and each time she seized a moment for bravery, misfortune befell her.
Maybe today, Tink thought, wondering what harm could come to her if she remained within his reach?
“James!” Nigel shouted from outside. He pounded on the door.
“Come in, mate. Good news?”
Nigel entered then shut the door behind him. His gaze darted to the cage. Tink waved. “She’s rather smart for a lady-shaped bug, isn’t she?”
“That she is. I believe she has some rudimentary understanding of what we speak, at the very least.”
“Even a dog has that at times,” Nigel said.
Tink stuck her tongue out behind the man’s back, unseen by either pirate. Business began as the quartermaster spread a sea chart—she’d overheard them calling it that before while plotting their course—over James’s desk and tapped his finger on the blue and beige illustration.
“The Victorious Dowager is off our port bow and riding low. I’d dare to say we’re here, not far from the coast of Liang. They may have recently acquired cargo from their friends.”
“Merchant vessel, if I recall. Any weapons?”
“They’ve three cannons on each side, but it’s nothing to match our power,” Nigel replied. “Small crew. My guess is there’s a patrol nearby from Eisland, or the captain was a cocky bastard who didn’t realize this sea belongs to us. How shall we proceed?”
James grinned at him. “Tell Little Wolf we’ve got prey to hunt. We’ll need the wind to run her down. If I recall, the Dowager’s greatest asset lies in her enchanted sails. Kill the wind. Have the men prepare to board.”
“At once, Cap’n.”
Tink returned to the desk once Nigel shut the door behind him. With her hands on her hips, she paced across the polished surface and eyed the chart, recognizing the mountainous coastline of Cairn Ocland and the vast aeries inhabited by the griffins. Ramsay had once told her the colossal bird-lions frequently hunted saltwater tuna there. Aside from her single visit up the mountain to find their clan leader for Conall, she’d never visited the aeries. But that one time, she’d seen the vast ocean beyond it with the sun gleaming scarlet over the sapphire water.
Would she ever see it again?
Missing the fresh air and open skies even more, Tink sulked and kicked over a pile of gold coins on James’s desk. So much for her plans to explore the deck. She wanted nothing to do with a battle. If anything, the conversation reminded her of one important fact—James was a pirate. He attacked other ships and stole from them.
“S’pose I should do my job and go attend,” James muttered, rising from his seat. He tucked his pistol into his heavy leather belt then plucked Tink from the desk corner, only for her to wriggle free and buzz around his head.
“I’m not letting you lock me up again!”
“Stop that. I’d feel better if you were secure while we handle this.”
Not once since they’d come to their understanding had James attempted to force her into the cage again. She spiraled up into the air above his head, well beyond his reach, and blew a raspberry at him.
“That’s not very ladylike,” he chided, dropping both arms to his sides. “Fine then, do as you will.”
“Ha!” Tinkling with laughter, she dove down to his shoulder and perched there, pointing to the door.
“What? You want to go with me?” Tink claimed double fistfuls of his shirt, clutching the fine black silk with all her strength. “I’m not sure that’s wise. You could be hurt,” he began to say while trying to dislodge her again. She bit the offending finger he wrapped around her.
James jerked his left hand away and swore. Apparently, he and Conall had similar tastes when it came to vocabulary. “Very well then. You are your own woman. I won’t remove you or force you to remain behind.” His path to the door resumed, and once they reached the deck, the worried captain tucked her beneath his ruffled collar. “Please stay there… if you understand anything I say, at least heed that warning.”
“You’re no fun.” Conducting their one-sided conversations had never been as bothersome.
The sunlight blinded Tink at first after the prolonged time spent in the dim atmosphere of James’s cabin. His tinted windows never let in the full light. To abide by the unspoken rules of her pirate friend, she crawled into the silken sash securing his gun belt and concealed herself from view, using it as a makeshift hammock.
In the distance, a ship with white sails flew the blue and white flags bearing Eisland’s colors. Tink had seen enough of them in James’s cabin on keepsakes commemorating him for his numerous accomplishments in the navy. Wind billowed through the Jolly Roger’s sails, coasting them over the sea with enough speed for Tink to thrust a fist in the air and whoop.
No wonder he loved standing on the quarterdeck. The breeze swept her golden curls away from her face and pointed ears, bringing her as close to flying as she’d ever come without using her wings.
“This is amazing!” she cried.
James glanced down at her and smiled. “I take it you’re enjoying it. I’ve never heard you chime so loudly before. Of course, it is a fine day for a chase.”
His grin broadened before he leaned forward and called down to the men preparing the cannons, “Load iron pellets and silverware into the cannons. There ought to be plenty of it thanks to the Goose.”
“Aye, cap’n!”
Silverware? Tink blinked up at him, fascinated by his choice of weapons. For a better vantage point, she darted to his shoulder and hid herself amidst his dark hair instead. She needed to see every moment. Despite limping on a limited amount of wind, the Dowager grew larger, and the tiny specks rushing on its deck became the shapes of frantic sailors.
“Shields, Callum!”
A flash of crimson light flooded over the ship, originating from the bare-armed magician standing at the Jolly Roger’s forecastle. Less than a second later, a series of explosions tore through the air between them.
Cannonballs crashed against the side of the Jolly Roger. Tink screamed and grabbed James by the ear for balance, nearly shaken from his shoulder. “Oh no, we’re going to sink!”
* *
*
One of the things James loved most about his Belle was her ability to surprise him every day. Perhaps she would be his good luck charm, a tiny golden woman to accompany him on the high seas as he raided slave-bearing ships. Once again, she’d displayed an eerie comprehension of the Eisland tongue, and he began to wonder if she truly understood him or if she was merely like one of the enormous birds Callum owned. She certainly showed evidence of enjoying their time together; they had been inseparable since her near death.
Perhaps she’s brought fortune to the Jolly Roger, after all, James thought.
The Victorious Dowager lacked any chance of standing against them, and all action taken would purely be to appease their wounded egos. Prepared for the merchants’ offensive, James braced himself as their opponents released a triple volley of artillery. Instead of tearing through the beautiful dark wood, the cannonballs rolled down the side and splashed into the sea, harmless as water sliding off a duck’s tail.
Belle’s scream rang in his right ear. At least, he thought it was a scream, her chiming as shrill as it had been the day the sea hawk swooped from the sky to claim her.
“Run a shot across the bow!” James shouted, voice carrying to the crew down below. Anything more would devastate the vessel, and sunken cargo had no value to them. More importantly, he couldn’t bear it on his conscience if they drowned the unfortunate slaves in the belly of the ship.
A blast from their cannons launched pellets, forks, and silver spoons at the Dowager’s sails. The scattered shot ripped through the canvas in multiple spots.
With Little Wolf controlling the winds in their favor, it became a simple matter of maneuvering alongside their prey and anchoring the two ships together. Grappling hooks flew. For each line the merchants managed to cut, two more took its place. James liked to overwhelm their opponents with sheer numbers, putting on a show of force with a raucous crew of over eighty men.
The Dowager’s crew put up a good fight, but they were no match for the Jolly Roger’s seasoned warriors. Pirates flooded onto the deck and faced an inexperienced crew.
“Sad,” Nigel muttered. “I’ve seen tots with greater skill.”
James chuckled. Not far from them, Fatima stood above one man with her boot on his neck. He wept. “That’s enough, men. There’s no need to take any lives this day. Which of you is the captain?” James raised his voice until it carried across the deck. “I’d enjoy a word with him.”
An auburn-haired man with a close-trimmed beard stepped forward with a cutlass clutched in his right hand. His fingers flexed over the rune-studded hilt as he faced his captors. Despite their incredible defeat, he stood tall and proud, leveling his gaze at James through fearless eyes. “I’m the captain of this vessel, and you have no right to attack us in this manner.”
“I’m a pirate, and rights have little meaning on the sea,” James said without losing his amicable smile. The crew laughed behind him as he stepped forward and lowered his voice. “However, this doesn’t have to become a bloodbath. You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Tell your men to stand down, and no one will be harmed. There’s no shame in surrender, but if you desire a challenge, I’ll have my men cut down every sailor aboard this vessel. Do you understand me?”
The captain of the Victorious Dowager stared him down in silence for a long minute, and then he gave a curt nod. “You heard him, men. Weapons down.”
The Dowager’s crew laid down their weapons and stepped back with their hands behind their heads while Fatima and Eliza secured the swords and pistols. Nigel took the cutlass from the captain then ran one finger over the flat of the blade, no doubt impressed with the quality and magical glow gleaming within the metal. He’d probably already laid claim to his share of the spoils.
“Wise man. Now I invite you to join me in my cabin, Captain, while we discuss what’s to become of you and your crew. Nigel, report to me once you’ve done a sweep.”
A brief stroll led the two men from the deck of the Dowager to the Jolly Roger. It wasn’t until the cabin door shut behind them that Belle emerged from hiding to investigate their guest.
The other ship’s captain gazed up at her with thinly veiled wonder despite his otherwise stoic demeanor, and James admired the man’s composure during a time when other men often fell before him, blubbering and pleading for mercy.
“Your name, sir. I’d like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“Morgan Hawkins.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Hawkins. You know who I am?”
“Aye. You’re Captain Hook, the Eislander traitor.”
James’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “So they say.” His fingers drummed against his left thigh as he regarded the solemn captain. Belle drifted closer to Hawkins and circled around his head. The melodic notes of her inhuman voice filled the air with music.
“My friend seems to like you. A point in your favor, sir,” James said as he crossed to a cabinet and pulled out two glasses and a crystal bottle. “Brandy?”
“I… How did you come to have a fairy in your possession?”
“A fairy?”
Hawkins gestured to Belle. “Fairy. Sprite. I’ve seen their like before in Cairn Ocland.”
James passed over a glass, which Hawkins took but didn’t drink. “Oh? And what, pray tell, brought an Eislander to such an inhospitable place?”
A red pulse flashed before James’s eyes as Belle flew up into his face and shook her tiny fist at him. The captain of the Dowager chuckled into his hand as her chimes grew loud and discordant.
“I don’t think it much likes you disparaging its home.”
“I suppose not. From Cairn Ocland then, are you, little one?” He offered Belle an apologetic smile and his hand. She sniffed, put her hands on her hips, and then turned away from him as a scorned woman would. Determined to make it up to her later, he looked back to his guest. “You were saying, Captain Hawkins?”
“I went once with a convoy from Creag Morden to Cairn Ocland to negotiate trade between our countries.”
“And were you successful?” James asked.
Hawkins shrugged. “Not so much. But this has nothing to do with my ship, Captain Hook. What do you intend to do with my ship and crew? Rob us? Kill us?”
“That depends entirely on your cargo,” James replied. He sipped from his glass and leaned back against his desk.
“My cargo?” The man’s brows shot upward. “If its riches you’re after, then take what I have. I only ask you spare my men. Spare my ship. I value lives above goods and merchandise, and I’d rather part with the commodities we carry than lose a single sailor.” He set his untouched glass aside, and Belle drifted down to sniff at it.
A heavy knock sounded against the door. James called out for them to come in, and Nigel stepped through.
“Have you made a thorough accounting?”
“Smee is finishing that up now, but I did a thorough walkthrough of their ship.”
“And?”
“No slaves below deck,” Nigel reported.
Captain Hawkins stiffened. “We are a merchant vessel hired by Eisland’s finest purveyors of Liangese silk. I assure you, I’ve never in all of my life had any dealings with flesh traders.”
James had never seen a man more insulted. He studied Captain Hawkins, taking in his blazing eyes and rigid spine. It wasn’t often anymore that he came across a good man, but this was one of those rare times, he was certain.
“Would you ever?”
Hawkins bristled. “Of course not.”
“Because it’s illegal in Eisland?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
James pushed away from the desk, rising to his full height, and stared the other captain straight in the eye. Hawkins met his gaze without flinching.
“Return to your ship and leave.”
“What?” Hawkins’s voice rose in surprise.
“Return to your ship and leave,” James repeated. “You have nothing that warrants taking, not eve
n your fortune in silk. He’ll need his blade, Lieutenant Gaumond.”
Nigel relinquished the sword, appearing torn while Hawkins studied them both with distrusting eyes.
“What sort of ruse is this? You let me go and then sink me?”
“No trick. Despite what you’ve been told, murder is against our code of conduct. As you pose no danger to the Jolly Roger, it would be an act of cowardice to fire upon a weaker foe. Consider this to be your lucky day, Captain Hawkins. May you always be the noble and proud man you are today.”
It was only afterward, once the ship had set sail, that James came to one startling realization.
Belle did understand him after all. Every single word.
“You’ve understood me?” he demanded, while he thought of the numerous clues she’d given him to that effect. He groaned and rubbed his face with one hand. How many nights had he lain in bed beside her dollhouse while prattling about his mother and father or reminiscing over the old days in the navy?
His brain didn’t want to comprehend the fact that he’d uttered the most ridiculous and inane things in her presence, but he was comforted by a single fact.
Belle spoke the language of fairies, and that meant his secrets were quite safe if no one could ever understand her in return.
* * *
Some of the crew had muttered when he let the Dowager go free without a single item claimed from the ship, but James had reminded them they weren’t bloodthirsty pillagers. Any man or woman who wanted a more traditional pirate life was welcome to leave and hire on with another crew.
No one accepted the offer.
“S’pose I’ll go get dinner…” Belle had taken a nap after the excitement of the morning, so he ventured down to the galley, conversed with Cook, enjoyed a drink with Smee, and meandered back to his cabin with their tray. Their ship’s repairman, Patrick, had fashioned three tiny silver plates, a bowl, and a polished silver goblet for Belle along with miniature utensils to accompany them. Upon these plates, Cook had arranged the portions of a three-course meal.
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