The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  Jagger put his hands on his hips, stared at the floor, and shook his head. He had to have known that would be her answer.

  “I hoped you would help.”

  “This was never my fight,” he said.

  “Then why did you stay with me all this time?”

  “You paid me.”

  “Come on, Jagger,” she said, stepping forward. “We both know that isn’t true.”

  “What do you know about me?” he said, stepping away. “I’m not some do-gooder. I’m not a rebel hero. I’m not the Chosen One. I’m just a thief. I don’t belong here.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “You’re brave and—”

  “Will you stop it!” he snapped. “I’m not stupid, Princess! You think I don’t know what your people think of me? You think I haven’t heard what they say? ‘He’s just a pirate. If he had the choice between selling us out and saving his own hide, he wouldn’t hesitate.’”

  “And I always tell them they’re wrong! I know that’s not who you are.”

  He grimaced and kept his eyes locked on the floor. “Don’t act like you know me,” he said. “And don’t act like you care. I’m just a street-rat to you.”

  “You’re not. I do care about you. I …” She hesitated, realizing how close she was to saying she loved him.

  “Don’t say it!” he said. “Don’t say it because you don’t! Even if you think you do, it would never happen! You’re a Princess, and I’m just a thief!”

  “That’s your people talking,” she said. “You think I haven’t heard them and the garbage they fill your head with? That I’m some highborn ‘slumming’ with you. You know I’m not like that.”

  “Don’t pretend this—whatever this is—can work out. Even if you do overthrow Tyrell, they’ll pair you up with one of your proper nobles, and us street-rats can get our pat on the head and be sent back to the gutter.”

  “You really believe I’d allow that? Is that how you see me?”

  He looked her in the eye, and at the time, his words hurt more than anything Tyrell’s assassins had ever managed: “It’s the truth.”

  She said nothing more. She turned her back to him and resumed her prayers—or at least tried to. She listened to his footsteps leave the temple and refused to cry. At the time, she thought it would be the last she ever saw of him.

  But Jagger proved them all wrong that day. When she needed him most, despite all that was said about him, he came to her aid and turned the tide. Her allies were saved from execution, and one of Tyrell’s top generals fell to Katrina’s sword. A great triumph for the rebellion and what would be the first in a series of defeats leading to Tyrell’s ultimate fall.

  When the battle was over, before he could utter a single word to her, Katrina kissed him long and hard. Through it all, he stayed with her, and she knew that day it didn’t matter if she was Princess and he was merely a thief. She didn’t care if she was meant for nobles or if he was lowborn.

  She loved him. She loved him and she knew, from that day forward, she would always love him.

  * * *

  “Oi,” said Scifer Olc, nudging her with his elbow. “We’re here.”

  Katrina dragged herself from a groggy and unfulfilling sleep. The ride was rickety, and she was sweating profusely. The carriage offered some shade, but it was unreliable and she didn’t want to sleep exposed in the burning sun, so she kept her overcoat draped over her through the morning. Between that and dirty desert air, she vowed to get a bath as soon as she was settled.

  Before leaving Gain, Scifer found an old wagon to hitch onto Hyde. The scarred horse did not welcome its load, and it took Katrina to calm him long enough for the reins to be set. They scrounged whatever supplies they could find and set off on their three day journey to Seba.

  The northern district, Noel, loomed just ahead. Behind it, standing atop the plateau it was built on, Seba seemed like it hovered in the air like some kind of floating city.

  Although the day began clear and sunny, dark clouds rolled in while Katrina was asleep. The gray and black sky behind Seba made it appear even more forbidding, and she could smell the city even from where she was. It smelled of sweat, rotten food, and death.

  In Noel, Scifer stopped in front of an inn with a name she didn’t bother to remember and rented two neighboring rooms. He also set up Hyde in a stable near the edge of the district. She assumed he took the money from Gain, but didn’t care enough to ask. At the moment, her only concern was she’d have access to a private tub.

  Once they were checked in, she locked herself in the washroom and drew a bath. The water wasn’t hot, but considering Seba’s sweltering weather, she was content with cooler water. As it was the first bath she’d had in days, she welcomed the chance to soak and relax regardless of temperature.

  Even after traveling by his side for three days, Katrina still didn’t trust Scifer Olc, nor did she understand why he was helping her. When they left Gain, he didn’t say a word to her for the rest of the day. It was only that night, during one of the few times he stopped to make camp, that he spoke to her.

  “Bad dreams?”

  She had dozed off, only to find more Enforcer nightmares waiting for her. The riot in Gain stirred bad feelings. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s nothing.”

  The night was quiet, and the sky was packed with stars. Reflecting on her dream and the fighting in Gain, Katrina found herself craving a drink again. She took a sip from her canteen and tried to resist the shakes while Scifer sharpened his bladed tonfas with a whetstone.

  “Interesting choice of weapons,” she said, more to get her mind off her nightmare than anything.

  “They’re my friends.” He held up the one in his left hand and said, “This is Walter.” Holding up the right one, he added, “And this is Randall.”

  He smiled and resumed sharpening them. She tried to think of something to say, but came up blank. It was not uncommon for warriors to name their weapons—but she’d yet to meet someone who named their blades such mundane names. She looked at her own sword and wondered if she would ever bother naming it.

  “So,” Scifer said. “Virgin or princess?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Jacob Daredin wanted to sacrifice you,” he said. “Usually the only people who get sacrificed are virgins or royalty.” He shrugged. “Or both. So which are you?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I was a virgin?”

  “No,” he said. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “I am—or I was—a princess.”

  “Legit princess, or was your dad a loon who declared himself king of wherever he lived?”

  “Legit,” she said. “About as legit as you can get, I suppose. Vigorian.”

  He nodded and chuckled to himself. “I guess ol’ Jake bit off more than he could chew dealing with you.”

  She thought back to the disaster on the Blind Cliffs—a massacre she played a large part in. She thought of the incident in the tavern outside Devon. And finally the mess in Gain. She was a princess, and yet she seemed to leave carnage in her wake everywhere she went.

  You’d make a decent pirate, Jagger had told her more than once.

  Yes, she was the rightful Princess of Vigor and the last of the Lamont family. But she also spent the first five years of her life in an orphanage, treated no differently than any other child. And then she spent her childhood being trained to fight and kill. Her days and nights consisted of running from assassins and preparing for her grand destiny of overthrowing the mad dictator who stole her kingdom.

  Scifer noticed her shiver and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I was never taught to be a princess,” she said. “I was taught to kill.”

  * * *

  Although Krutch had intended to find someplace cheap to conserve gold, he, Audra, and Arkady wound up settling in a fancy hotel in Oasis Slope called Treehorn Plaza. It should’ve been a twenty minute walk from Clock’s mansion, but Krutch—unfa
miliar with the streets of Seba—spent an additional thirty minutes trying to find his way around. The only noticeable landmark was Clock’s tower, and although clouds rolled in that afternoon, by the time he reached the apartment he was sweating, exhausted, and in need of another bath.

  The apartment was near the top floor, and though the hotel didn’t have a cooling mage of its own, the room came with a den, two bedrooms, and a bathroom with running water. The open windows allowed a pleasant breeze and faced south—sparing him any view of Clock’s tower.

  Upon returning to the room, he was greeted by a concerned Audra and Arkady. Audra, in particular, snatched him in a crushing hug. “Lee!” she said. “Where have you been? What happened to you?”

  Krutch plopped down on the sofa. After wandering around Seba in the summer heat, he wasn’t in the mood to talk. “I was at Clock’s game,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “He was just showing off. He claims he wants to work with me, but … you know.” He pulled off his shoes and continued, “Afterward, I got jumped by some guys. Don’t know who. And I met Clock’s wife.”

  Arkady poured glasses of water for himself and Krutch and asked, “Who do you think jumped you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, guzzling half the water in a single gulp. “Could’ve been anyone, and frankly, I’m not even sure it matters.”

  “You met Clock’s wife?” Audra asked. “When was this?”

  “Her people saved me from whoever jumped me and brought me to her mansion,” he said. “I don’t know why, but—and I could be misreading this—I think she wants to bang me.”

  Arkady spit out the water.

  “Did you?” asked Audra.

  “Did I what..?” He hesitated, but then recognized the look in Audra’s eyes and added, “No, and I’m not planning to.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and he flinched. He’d seen that look, but never against him. His cursed reputation had a way of working without him—for all he knew, in Audra’s head, he was known as a two-timing ladies’ man that slept with any woman who offered.

  “Seriously,” he said. “From what little I know about Clock, I think sleeping with his wife would be a poor choice of action.”

  “That’s true, boss,” said Arkady, still choking on the water. “You don’t go screwing around with another man’s woman.”

  Audra looked like she didn’t believe him, but said, “Okay. So what now?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I got a lot of people coming at me, and they all have their own schemes.”

  “You’re a player, boss,” said Arkady. “Everyone’s going to be interested in what Krutch Leeroy’s up to. They’re going to want you on their side.”

  “That’s nice,” he said, finishing the water. “But I’m losing track of the sides, and right now, I just want some rest.”

  He went into one of the bedrooms, peeled off his sweaty clothes, and collapsed face-first onto the bed. His feet throbbed, head ached, and stomach bubbled. He felt lost and confused and wanted nothing more than to escape to someplace simple and quiet. It seemed trying to be the Krutch Leeroy was as exhausting as trying to avoid it.

  “Lee..?” Audra whispered, entering the bedroom. “Are you mad?”

  “No,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow his face was pressed against. “Just tired.”

  He felt the bed shake and knew she was crawling beside him. She caressed his hair and rubbed his back, and he was surprised how much better that made him feel. Despite his exhaustion, he turned over to face her, and she seemed to glow.

  “You think maybe we should quit while we’re ahead?” he asked. “Take what’s left of Elliot’s gold and blow?”

  “You’re not having fun?” she asked.

  “It’s not that,” he said. “I don’t know. This is dangerous—what we’re doing. If we keep going and it all turns to shit …” He trailed off, stretching his scarred hand.

  “You’re not dealing with dragons here,” she said. “Just men. Little men who are all sweating because they don’t know what you’re going to do.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Don’t you see?” Her smile was sympathetic, but that mischievous spark was in her eyes. He thought he might be swallowed whole by those green eyes. “You’ve got these guys running in circles without even trying. You really think you can’t take this place?”

  He shrugged, but couldn’t resist smirking a little.

  “Now’s the time to be bold,” she said, straddling him. “Play Clock and Gash against each other. Use Clock’s wife against him. Show them who you really are. Hell, someone had you attacked last night. You must be doing something right.”

  A part of him thought he should protest. To insist she was wrong and this would never work. But another part of him wondered—maybe he could pull it off? If he could find out what Gash was up to in Gain. Or learn what the Tombs were and what it had to do with Clock. If he played the game right, he could be running Seba in no time.

  “Clock invited me to his mansion for lunch,” he said. “He said you could come, too.”

  “What’s he like?” she asked. “What do you think of him?”

  “He seems like a prick.”

  She snorted. “Do you think we should go?”

  “Yeah, why not..? The wife suggested he needs me for something. I think it might be worth pulling on that thread and see where it goes.” Audra smiled. It was an eager grin that made him feel ten feet tall. “Do you want to come?”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind getting a look at this big, bad Sebastian Clock myself.” She kissed him again, and before they made love, she whispered, “Show them who Krutch Leeroy really is.”

  * * *

  It was late in the day when Katrina got out of the tub. Feeling refreshed and clean, she put her clothes on and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. There was little rain, despite the clouds, but no breeze could form in Noel’s tight streets. The humidity accentuated the stench of garbage wafting over the district.

  Seba loomed overhead, and she felt tense looking at it. She was sloppy in Gain. She had hoped to keep a low profile, but all she did was advertise herself as a potential victim. If Jagger really was a gladiator, that meant she would have to deal with whoever owned him. If she was lucky, she would go about her business in Seba without trouble—if not, she would need a cover story.

  I guess I’ll be Rien the mercenary for now, she thought. Just a bounty hunter passing through Seba on a job.

  As the sun set, she found herself wandering the streets. A part of her knew that was only inviting trouble, but another part of her longed for it. And that frightened her.

  Despite her title, she had never been taught what it meant to be royalty. Everything she learned was in the goal of killing Armand Tyrell. How was she expected to rule Vigor? What did she know about domestic policy or economics? The prophecy said she would lead her home to a new golden age, but she didn’t know the first thing about running a country.

  What kind of Queen would she have been? When the gleam of victory and shine of being the great Chosen One wore away, and it was just her sitting on the throne, making decisions that would dictate the direction of her kingdom—her, all of nineteen years old at the time—would they still love and adore her? Or would the people demand she abdicate and put someone who knew what they were doing on the throne instead?

  She walked by the stable where Hyde was left. The owner paid her no mind as she approached the stall containing the black destrier. He huffed upon seeing her, as he always did. Thick, discolored scars crisscrossed his body, and Katrina wondered what kinds of wars had he seen before she purchased him. Was it any wonder he was so ill-tempered?

  Some wounds ran too deep. She knew that better than many.

  Could she have ever lived a peaceful life? Was the massacre in Daredin’s fortress and all the other incidents the inevitability of her upbringing? Had the seeds already been there—planted some time in her youth? One doesn’t spend a
life running from assassins, demons, and evil mages—watching friends and loved ones die—constantly training and fighting without being affected by it deep down.

  “I can’t believe that,” she said to herself. “I have to believe there’s something more for me.”

  Her homeland was gone. The remains of her people turned her away. She couldn’t keep drifting around Graylands, drinking herself to death—she’d go mad if she tried and probably would become what Tyrell was. Perhaps worse … a monster like the Enforcer.

  Jagger is my last hope.

  The thought hung over her for some time. She saw herself standing on the precipice of a great abyss. Before her was an endless eternity of darkness, and she knew evil things dwelled there. Cruel, ugly, grinning things that relished the sound of screaming and longed for bloodshed. And the only thing keeping her from falling in was the thin, frail hope she could not only find Jagger alive, but he wouldn’t reject her.

  “Nice night for a walk, eh?”

  She let out a sigh which came like a death rattle. Scifer Olc had found her, and without even looking at him, she knew he was watching her with his empty gray eyes, lifeless smirk, and cigarette in hand.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Really? What do you want?”

  “Better question is what you want,” he said, offering her a fresh cigarette. “What dragged you to these parts?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” she said, taking it. “His name is Jagger. He’s … he’s a friend.”

  “A fellow Vigorian..?”

  “Yes,” she said. They left the stable and started their way back to the inn. “You’ve been around here before, right? Have you heard of a gladiator called the Last Vigorian?”

  “Name rings a bell,” he said. “Although I’ve never paid much mind to the pit fights.” He finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground. “So that’s it? You need to find your boy and he might be a slave?”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It is easy,” he said. “Why are you sweating about Gain or anything up ahead?”

  “What kind of question is that?” she said with a sneer. “Did you not notice what happened in Gain? I don’t want to kill anybody—even if they are scum like Carmine.”