Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

I hardly contain my squeal as I lift the lid from the garment box and take in the exquisite dress placed neatly inside.
I can't pull it out fast enough. I hold it up to my chest, examining the delicate scoop in the neckline trimmed with lace, the sleeves cuffed at the elbow, the elegant folds of ivory and rose appliques. "It's beautiful," I say a bit breathlessly to Father. His smile grows beneath his well kept beard. "It must have cost a fortune."
"Don't worry about the costs, my dear." He waves off the manservant who carried the garment upstairs. "None will be too great for you."
My grin widens to the point of aching. "Thank you, Father." I rush behind my dressing screen with my maid. I may have asked the occasion if it weren't for the ceremony today though the dress was a surprise, especially since I have so many that would have been appropriate.
I strip out of my nightgown and step into each underskirt. Layer after layer and I find myself fanning my face sooner than I would have liked. I blame the humidity that never leaves the air. London didn't get this hot. But it was far dirtier.
Father clears his throat from the other side of the screen and I watch his shadow pace. "Skyloft is looking forward to seeing you."
"Oh?" My maid tugs the dress over my head and begins to tighten the laces. "Have you spoken to him recently?"
"Yesterday." I chew my lip. Not unusual considering Father is the governor of this port and Groose is in charge of many military measures keeping us safe from pirates and other sorts of trouble.
"About anything important?" I roll my eyes at my own question. Why wouldn't it be important? I'm just prying and I know it.
"The usual dull affairs. He asked a great deal about you though." The breath escapes my chest though I'm not sure if it has to do with Father's news or if it's simply the dress crushing me. My maid yanks once more and I swear I hear a rib crack.
"Did he?" I pant, fumbling with the folds at my elbows and adjust to the shallowness of my breaths. Beauty does come with pain at times.
Father catches onto my line of question and says, "He thinks very highly of you, Zelda, and he's a fine man." I don't miss the lack of 'young.' To call him a young man would be a stretch seeing as he was fifteen and securing his start in the military the same year I was born. But thirty-two isn't a terrible age for someone about to be promoted to commodore. Normally they're older.
"I hope you'll give him a chance," he continues. "He's well respected here and he'll be able to support you."
I step out from behind the screen, feeling just how tight the bodice really is. I try to match Father's smile. "If you say any more, I'm going to have to pretend I'm hearing everything for the first time."
"Yes, I suppose you're right." He takes one last look at me before leaving to allow my maid to finish.
I sit as she curls my hair and pins it into place, tying a hat over it as well. But I can't focus on anything more than what Father was set on preparing me for. A proposal. And not just that but from a man of high rank and good standing with the crown back in England. Any lady would be dying for the same.
I pull a thick curl over my shoulder once she's finished and admire the ivory and floral patterns on the dress. It's simply beautiful. Father has good tastes.
I finish my outfit with Mother's old necklace and earring set and choose a matching fan before I lift the heavy skirts and walk from my room. Father is waiting at the bottom of the open stairwell and the carriage is beyond, ready to take us to the courtyard where Lieutenant Skyloft will be promoted.
The dress pinches my ribs down the stairs and to the carriage. The threads are tight, offering no give even as I sit in the cushioned interior with Father. I unfold the fan and wave it over my neck and face before sweat can drip down my skin.
The heat sits in the carriage like an unwanted guest, dragging the ride on far longer than it should. "Are you alright?" Father says. "You're looking a bit green."
"I'm just fine, thank you." I keep fanning myself, cursing how hot it is. Yesterday would have been a perfect day for the ceremony with the cloudy and somewhat cooler weather. Unfortunately, it's not my choice when the ceremonies take place.
The only relief is how quickly the street traffic parts to make way for our carriage. Getting in the way of the large white stallions would be a mistake, not to mention the man in charge of the colony owns them.
I peek out my window at them. Their faces are plain with nothing to note other than the dirt smudged on a few. Their clothes are unimpressive as well except for the wealthy sprinkled among the crowd. Wealthy but not wealthy enough for a carriage and horses to keep from making the muggy walk.
If it weren't for Father's decision to accept the king's offer and travel here, I would have stayed in London. I miss the shops selling expensive fabrics and tailors who could make any hat I dreamt up. I suppose I miss the parties as well but none of that compared to my endless supply of books anyway.
The carriage finally pulls to a stop and I wait until the footman opens the door and helps me out. The hem of my dress hangs just above the ground, covering my shoes without dragging along the stones. It unfortunately also keeps out all chances for a refreshing breeze.
Taking Father's arm, we make our way through the growing crowd to the courtyard, passing by the soldiers in bright red coats and white pants. Their faces are trained into calm but their eyes are always moving, watching.
There's something reassuring knowing that Father's word goes far when it comes to the military. As bold as criminals are, they don't last long until someone finds out and they're promptly tossed into the jail. A nasty place I've heard. Infested with rats and dirty enough to ruin your clothes just by stepping in.
Fitting for criminals awaiting trial. Most get petty punishments for their petty crimes like scooping the horse droppings from the streets or other manual labors. There's been few hangings and the ones that happened were well deserved. There's no excuse for piracy and every fool who chooses that vile life should swing by their necks.
I settle into a seat next to more minor politicians' wives and daughters, smiling at the gushing over my new dress. Suffocating or not, a new dress is always worth it.
It's not long before soldiers line up, forming a path at the orders being called out. I shift in my seat and cover my wince as best I can with my fan. It's too important a day to show my discomfort. And what would they say about Father if they saw his daughter squirming and wincing in her seat minutes before the lieutenant's ceremony and proposal?
A lump forms in my throat when another order is called out and the muskets are raised and held over the path. A proposal. I'd be foolish to decline. Groose is a respectable man and I'd never have to worry. Daughter of the governor and wife to a commodore. I couldn't ask for much more unless I married a prince.
One set of footsteps sound along the stone and the weight of his stare nearly sends me fainting. He looks away before I can meet his eyes, walking to my father.
He's dressed in a royal blue coat, tall boots covering the bottom portion of his pressed white trousers. His tricorn hat is rimmed in feathers and casts a shadow over his pale face. To say he wasn't handsome would be stupid of me. Even as a few years shy of being twice my age, he doesn't look as old as he should.
He stands straight at attention while I fight to maintain my posture. The sun moved at the perfect position to cook me and even my fan doesn't ease the sweat I feel puddling under my dress.
That dreadful feeling of sick nestles in my stomach. I swallow, fanning my face until my wrist aches. The ceremony won't last forever and once it's over, I'll be content to return home and change into something lighter. After the proposal, I remind myself. It can't be that much longer.
My breath is short by the time I hear the sound of a sword being pulled free from its sheath. I scold myself. I haven't been paying attention.
Groose inspects the sword Father had specially made for him, tossing it from one hand to the other before giving it a few swings. The blade slices through the air with a clean sound that promises its sharpness.
He resheaths the sword and fastens it to his hip. The elegantly twisted metal of the handle perfectly matches his rich attire and I'm still staring when he finally turns to me.
In too few steps, he's in front of me, holding out his hand. "Miss Hyrule."
The women around me exchange excited whispers they don't seem to care that he hears as I take his gloved hand. His grip is firm but gentle around my fingers.
We don't exchange words as he leads us away from the crowd and would be gossipers. Plenty will be prying in the days to come and hoping for an invite to the wedding that's sure to be the finest when paid for by Father. My chest flutters at the image of the gown my mind conjures up though my joints ache just thinking about how heavy it'll be. I'll have to convince Father and Groose to wait until the cooler months to avoid the sweat I have pooling on my skin in this dress. I would prefer to be married in fabrics much less suffocating than this.
He takes me to the edge of the cliffs where stones were laid to build up the fort. The ocean stretches in the bay and beyond, the water white and crashing just below me. The distance seems to stretch and I pull back, my cheeks warming as if they've just gone green.
"I'm sure you already know what I'm going to ask." He turns away as he says it, facing another side of the endless ocean and saving me from hiding the discomfort from the sun. "I've accomplished many things, Miss Hyrule, commodore now as well."
I make a small noise meant to be acknowledgement but it becomes a squeak past my lips. I curse it and wave my fan quicker as my head goes light and the ground tilts. It would be incredibly rude of me to rush him and I'd hate to miss the speech he's obviously practiced just for me.
"The only accomplishment left is a marriage to a fine woman." I blink faster, my eyes insistent on making his tall figure fuzzy. "I've waited a long time but I don't believe I'll find a finer woman than you." He finally faces me, giving a half smile that would make the other ladies drop dead. "It would be an honor to call you my wife, Zelda. If you'll have me."
"Oh." I swallow with a dry mouth, the 'yes' I know I have to say nowhere to be found. I flatten my hand over my middle, the air going thick. "I can't seem to breathe," I pant.
"Yes, it's quite exciting, isn't it? I can hardly breathe either."
"No, I can't...breathe."
I stay awake long enough to watch his smile disappear before the glaring sun goes black.
My sick stomach is the first to come back followed by a deep pounding in the back of my head. A sliver of light makes its way behind my closed eyes, the voices grow louder, and I finally feel a refreshing breeze on my face.
Forcing my eyes open the rest of the way, Groose's face comes into view very close to mine as he fans me frantically with his hat. He breathes a sigh of relief. "She's alright." I frown until I see Father not far behind, his face among others. All watching. All whispering.
I've made an utter fool of myself.
Now the talk will be of my tumble and not my engagement to Commodore Skyloft.
I wince. Not an engagement at all. Gods, I hadn't even had the chance to accept before I went down in a dramatic scene.
I try to sit up, stopping at the resistance Groose places on my shoulders. "Just relax. Your carriage is being brought around." I mumble a reply I'm not sure I could even decipher. All I know is his hat makes for a better fan than the pretty one that's no longer in my grasp. "You bumped your head a little on the way down but I think your hat took most of it." The pain in my head brightens at the mention of it, my stomach swirling with an even worse threat.
But the carriage is brought around soon enough and the Commodore sweeps his arms under me to carry me to it, the heaping layers of my dress and all. He barks orders for the gawkers to make way and I have enough sense to swoon at that. It's only fair to the knight taking care of his princess.
He places me in the carriage which isn't much cooler than outside but the shade alone does wonders. His goodbye is lost to the spinning in my head. I keep my 'yes' to myself for now. The next time I see him will be in better circumstances and I'll accept his proposal then.
Father continues to fan me on the ride back to the manor and I squeeze my eyes shut as if they'll soften the bumps and thuds in the road. Even the horse hooves clopping seems to add another pound to my skull.
And as if the dramatics at the fort hadn't been enough, Father calls for the doctor as well like I'm on my way to death. My maids help me out of the layers that bring me more relief than any doctor would-not that Father listens to a moment of it.
My hair let down and brushed, I'm sent to bed, a maid tasked with fanning me. I'm given a tea by the doctor he promised would ease the headache that I pretend to sip until he leaves, giving Father his assurances. The liquid was bitter and sour and I would rather endure the ache than submit my tongue to that taste.
"Do you mind closing the drapes?" I ask when the frantics have dimmed.
"Of course, Miss." She moves in a hurry like there's a whip waiting for her, returning to fan my sticky face.
I finally uncover my eyes, shifting to a more comfortable position. As comfortable as I can get with orders to stay on my back, that is. "Thank you, Paya."
"Anything I can do to help. A dreadful day you've had. During your engagement as well." I almost grimace at the mention of the proposal I managed to ruin.
Several minutes pass before I say, "Do you think it's a good match? The Commodore and I?"
"Oh yes!" she squeals a bit too loudly. "A handsome match. And if it's not too bold of me to say, many of us girls wish we had a man like him vying for our hands."
"I suppose you're right." If it weren't me, it would be another proper lady. I'm of age and I couldn't ask for a better man.
Her fanning quickens, making it feel more like a hurricane rather than a relaxing breeze. "Oh, I can't wait! The wedding will be gorgeous and your children will no doubt be absolutely darling."
"Paya."
She stiffens, color creeping onto her pale face. "My apologies, Miss. You feel sick enough as it is; I'm sure you don't want to hear my rambling."
"It's alright." It's the overwhelming combination of a wedding and children I don't care to hear about right now. "I think I'd like to rest. Would you tell my father I'm fine, just tired?"
"Yes, Miss."
She leaves, the click of the door a relief. I'll have to thank Father later for his caring. But for now...
I do away with the doctor's orders and turn on my side, curling into a comfortable ball atop my blankets. And as relaxing as it is, it's a long while before I manage to find sleep.
A cool draft licks at my ankles. I welcome it remembering the heat I was stuck in hours ago.
I sit up to be greeted by a dark room without light trying to peek behind the drapes. The pounding in my head has dulled to an achy throb I can ignore well enough.
I must have slept the rest of the day away. The clock would read 'late' if it could and just as I swing my legs off the bed, I catch a glimpse of a note left on the bedside table. I make out enough of it through squinting to see it was from Father telling me he had something important to attend to and likely wouldn't be home until the morning. He'd never say it to me directly but only issues with pirates require his overnight attention.
I crinkle my nose. Pirates. They act if it's impossible to do anything legal.
Feeling more than rested, I leave my bed and make my way to the double doors leading to my balcony. I push them open to let in more of the cool air though it's still tinged by humidity. Anything is better than the earlier weather.
The port spread out to the bay is still awake-oddly awake for this hour. Commotion sounds from all ends and I watch as groups of soldiers move quickly through the streets.
An eerie unsettled feeling brushes along my neck, sending my hair on end. And by the shrill of the first scream, a worse kind of sick grips my stomach.
Cannons fire from the fort, the explosions clear like I'm standing next to them. But more fire from the water and the light brightens the sea just enough to reveal the ship they come from.
I take in more with each burst light, my eyes widening at the hull, the mast, the sails. All dark and matching a memory I brushed aside of Groose mentioning a ship that was sinking ships in his fleet. I didn't bother to think anything of it then; pirates sink ships I'm not sailing on. And-
A shot echoes from below, sending a jolt through my now shaking body. The lamps at the end of the drive are still lit and I look down just in time to watch a red clad body fall backward. The pistol that ended him is still raised in the hand of a tall figure shrouded in the dark. His head seems to tilt, turning right to me.
I rush back inside, closing the doors like it'll do any good. My breaths come quick, taking all the room for thinking.
But I stop the moment I begin to question why here. A criminal would come straight for the biggest manor on the port. It's the riches he wants, not me. He won't think of me at all if I'm not here.
I'm across my room quicker than my heart can beat and throw open my door, colliding with a thin framed girl. The relief is instant but it doesn't last long.
"Pi-There's pirates," Paya sputters. Tears stream down her cheeks and she grips my nightgown rather than her own.
"We need to leave and find somewhere to hide." She nods and I take one of her hands, pulling her back the way she came.
We slip on the polished floors and it's only then that I notice my lack of slippers. There's no time to go back and turning around for slippers is possibly the most foolish thing I could do. So I push forward to the landing, picturing the rest of the path clearly. Down the stairs and a few bends to the door on the back of the manor and we'll be out.
A bang rattles the doors below. We freeze at the top of the twin stairs, my eyes widening as they are thrown open by the second bang.
That figure who shot the guard rushes in, his form so tall he seems to fill the opening. His head snaps to us at the top. And then he runs for the steps.
Paya rips her hand from mine and runs to the opposite hall, screaming her way down. I don't have time to scream for her before I run for the way I came.
His boots pound behind me, gaining. I wind around a corner, forcing my breath to quiet and screams to stay silent. Air rushes in and out of my lungs, my legs burning but I throw myself into an office, snatching the nearest silver candle stick through the doors.
He rams his body into the other end and a scream escapes. The manor is full of riches! What prize would I be?!
The wood groans as he shoulders it again, the crack between the doors widening and the silver slides. I spin, looking for anything. But this office is empty and has nothing but a closet.
I run for it, slamming the thin slatted doors closed in my face. I cover my mouth and press my other hand to my heart, the organ beating wildly beneath my nightgown.
Metal sings as it hits the ground and the doors open. Heavy steps follow with a quick sweeping sound, sending the silver crashing against a wall. My body lurches but I force it to still and I hold my breath.
His feet move slow like a cat who knows where the mouse is but it wants to play. The dread of such a thing settles in my gut to make me sick.
His shadow seeps through the slants of the door. His coat is blue and the scent of sea and wood and gunpowder rolls from him. I watch the handle turn, my eyes begging to be closed as the thoughts of what he'll do flash into my head.
But I keep them open and watch as the door opens, forcing me to meet the awaiting grin.
"Wait!" I scream as he wrenches my hand from my mouth.
His grin only widens as he slips a thin string of rope from his belt.
Screaming does little to deter pirates. I rub my skin against the ropes chafing my wrists, testing once more for any looseness. And unsurprisingly, there isn't any. He had bound it tight, uncaring to my demands and pleas. He hauled me over his shoulder just as easily as he ignored me and clamped an arm over my legs to keep me from kicking.
I pleaded to anyone we passed but they were deaf to me. They were running, some men fighting. The pirates attacked and pillaged, started fires and chased women through the alleys. I watched them load their steals onto boats and hurry back to the water.
The boat sways beneath me. My silent captor remains mute of grunts even as his oars cut through the inky ocean. The rest of the boats are ahead, some already reaching the ship that has moved too far for cannons to fire on. It remains dark and looming, our boat so little creeping up on it.
The closer we get, the easier I can see the lanterns flickering on the deck. The pirates prance around the masts like they have a victory. Real men win victories in uniforms and they fight fairly. These scoundrels attacked in the middle of the night and stole what they wished. Including myself.
I shift on the hard, splintery bench. The air is sticky but the wind is sharp and snags on my gown. My skin prickles and I curl my arms in as much as I can with my wrists bound.
The man watches, his eyes shadowed heavily by his hat. A little smirk holds his lips and around it is shaved smooth. I must admit he is the most well-groomed pirate I have ever seen.
His coat is a deep blue and is free of stains or tears. His hat is well-kept, his body smells not of sweat but the salt on a breeze. His sword is more decorated than the one Father commissioned for the Commodore though the latter earned his.
And he'll be coming for me soon enough. I hold the stare of the pirate. Clean or not, he is still filth.
"You'll all be hanged when I'm rescued," I declare. Instead of a lick of fear, a chuckle rolls from his chest. "Return me and I'll convince my father to lessen your sentence. Prison is better than the gallows."
His arms continue to row.
By the time we reach the ship, I wish I had screamed at him to bring me home. Perhaps I could have dove from the boat and tried my chances at swimming back to shore. But now we are here.
The rocking of the boat doesn't slow his movements. He stands quickly and hauls me to my feet, lowering himself enough while he plants his hands on my waist.
I contemplate spitting in his face instead but it would be even more foolish seeing as he hasn't threatened my death despite me threatening his. So I put my bound hands around his neck and let him tuck me close as he grips the rope that has been thrown down to heave us up.
I cling tighter as the boat disappears beneath my feet the higher we go. I wrap my legs around him, almost scrambling up to keep myself from falling. Again, he finds me amusing.
He swings his legs over the wood rail of the ship, dragging me with him. Lights flare to life and I squint through them, not fighting as he untangles me from his body.
The rest of the pirates swarm, grinning. Not all of them are as clean as my captor.
Some shout to get the captain and others rush to carry out the order. My heart quickens its pace-not that it had much of a chance to slow.
Possibly the most ridiculous is how I bring myself closer to the towering man beside me rather than let myself brush too close to the other pirates. They part for us, or rather, him. And with the groomed look and nice dress, and his presence keeping them in line, I realize he must have authority. Not captain as he is being fetched for whatever prize they think they won by taking me. But he hauls me to the back of the ship and I shuffle through the ranks, coming to assume he is the first mate.
The rest of the men silence and then I hear a heavy footfall. Then another and another.
I stiffen, the first mate's hand gripped on my arm. As if I would run now. There is nowhere to go.
I look to the stairs leading to the helm. A man struts down them slowly, his face darkened but gait smooth and full of that pirate cockiness.
"Someone did as they were told." The voice that says it is young and sets off a string of chuckles through his crew.
A coat like the one his mate wears billows a little in the wind where the front is unbuttoned. His hat folds to a soft point at the front and at two sides, his image becoming clearer as he moves closer. I watch as he tugs gloves onto his hands, flexing his fingers through the leather to fit them tightly.
He levels on the deck, proving to be much shorter than his second but still claiming height over me. Messy hair brushes his shoulders beneath his hat and he cocks his head, letting the nearest light illuminate his shadow. He is blond with blue eyes to match the seas he and his pirates set out to rule.
"Hello, dear."
More laughs rumble around me, pressing close. I clamp my teeth on my tongue. Anything I say will be met with ridicule.
"Such a pretty thing." I turn my face away as he raises his hands to cup my cheeks. He forces me to face him anyway, being gentle in his demand. His thumbs stroke my cheeks, his smile that of a man who won a fair game of cards. "What's your name?"
"I am the daughter of the gover-"
He clicks his tongue to hush my outburst. "Titles other than 'captain' don't mean much here and especially not those belonging to our fathers. Tell me your name, love."
"Return me to the port," I bite out, chewing the words.
"Again, not a name. If you don't give me one, I'll come up with one myself and I promise you won't like it." He strokes his gloved thumbs lazily, the leather dragging across my skin in the humidity. "Or maybe I'll let one of the other men choose one for you and that is simply the worst option I can give you."
I stay quiet though the crew finds my silence most amusing.
"Don't make me count. You're too pretty for an ugly name."
"Take me back home."
"One." My heart skips.
"What do you want with me?"
"Two." He smiles, tilting his head, excited about my next words.
I give him none.
"Three," he quips, following it with an exaggerated frown. "I must say I'm disappointed. I would have loved to hear your name in your voice." He drops his hands away and steps back, sweeping a leg behind the other while he takes his hat and drops into a low bow. "Captain Link Farore. It is a pleasure to meet you, Tetra."
More laughs follow at the name he provided and he rises, looking for a reaction. It isn't an awful name and he bluffed about his threat to let his crew pick. What else might he bluff about?
"I think I would have named her Hilda." I almost flinch at the voice from the man who hasn't uttered a word yet. Though it's less the voice and more the accent I hadn't expected.
His first mate is French. I let my eyes wander to a few more faces in the crew. How far does their captain travel on the seas?
"Perhaps we'll switch if we get bored." A knife flicks into his palm and I don't have time to draw back before the captain has cut the binds on my wrists and replaces the Frenchman's grip with his own. "You have the ship, Medoh. Don't let these fools bother us."
He gives a nod and just like that, the crew disperses. The first mate begins to bark orders in a rushed collection of English and French so muddled even I can't decipher it. But they run to their posts, understanding what he means even if some don't understand either language.
I'm tugged towards the captain's quarters and his request to not be bothered thrums in my blood. His look of victory was plenty. He just wanted a pretty woman to play with and he'll have his way now.
Dragging my feet is of no use. He turns the handle to his quarters and sweeps me in, closing it behind him. I back away as he twists the thick key in the lock, a bolt sliding into place.
The orders the crew follow outside becomes muffled talk and the air thickens in my throat. I take more steps back, moving away from him and his little cocky smile.
"What do you think of your new accommodations, Miss Tetra?" My nose scrunches. The name he hadn't bluffed about.
"I have a room already. At port."
"Yes, well you are at sea now and this is what I can give you."
I take another step back, my bare foot landing on a rug. It's made of careful weaving and fringe and I let my eyes wander to the rest of the poorly lit room making up the cabin.
The windows in the back are stained and the room is large for a ship. The ship itself is larger than I've normally seen.
There's a desk in the room, engraved wolves on the paneling. It's covered in maps and a dim lamp and weapons of blades and guns. Near it to the next wall is a bed draped with mismatched quilts and sheets. The corner is still pulled down and tangled from the last time he slept.
He moves to the table beside it and pours from a dusty bottle into a crystal glass. The liquid is brown and more muddy than anything we get at port.
"Would you like some?" he asks, offering me the glass.
"I don't drink."
"For now. Until you find the rum is cleaner than the water." I cringe once more.
He downs it in a gulp and begins to unfasten his belt containing a sword and several pistols. I back further until I reach the table on the opposite wall, my hip bruising on it. I close my fingers around a short, corked bottle, watching him shrug out of his coat.
He removes his hat too, running his fingers through the unruly blond beneath it. I clench my fingers tighter. I could maim him when he gets close. I can make him rethink if he wants to expose his precious parts to me. I'll promise that I bite.
The white shirt beneath his coat is already loose at the top. His pants are brown and fit tight until his shins which are covered by his long black boots. And once he's stripped to an easy layer to remove with still his gloves, he finally moves towards me.
I suck in a breath and hurl the bottle at him.
He twists to miss it, raising his brows at the glass that shatters on the wall where his head had been. He turns back to me, blue eyes full of surprise. "That was a souvenir."
I fight the urge to remind him he's a thief and murderer and nothing he has is a souvenir, just stolen goods. "Touch me and I'll do worse."
His lips spread to a wide smile that forces bile into my throat. "I won't be touching you, Tetra. And none of my men will harm you either. If they do, please tell me and I'll gladly remove the offending limb."
I don't hide my surprise. "You'd amputate your own men?"
"And throw them overboard if you'd like. I don't do well with a crew that doesn't follow orders."
As much as I wish it was, his words don't seem to be a lie. He must be used to killing even if it's his own men. But that doesn't explain why he would kill any in my stead or why I'm in his quarters or why he's promising to not hurt me.
I set my jaw. He's a pirate. He's lying. He makes a living through deceit.
He takes a step forward and I send my hand fumbling for something new to aim at his face. I find another short bottle and raise it seeing that it contains a small ship inside.
He raises his hands, still coming closer. "You don't listen well, do you?"
"Stay away from me."
"Put that down."
I throw it.
This time, he catches it and moves faster than I can claim a new weapon. He grips my hands and pins them at my sides, letting his face come close.
"I really don't want to tie you up again, Tetra."
"Stop calling me that," I snap.
"You should have given me your name then. Will you tell me now?"
I don't.
"Here you can see our problem. You can't even trust me with your name and now you're throwing my possessions. You can share a cabin with Medoh instead but he is not the finest roommate, I assure you."
"And you are?"
"Why yes, I think I am."
"You're vile."
He huffs a short laugh that smells of rum. "You're going to be difficult."
"I'll do my worst," I promise, "unless you take me back home."
"I won't be doing that, love." He jerks his head to the chair at my side. "Sit."
"No."
I yelp as he forces my shoulders down, dropping me into the chair.
"Stay in the damn chair or I'll tie you to it."
I do as he says for now. I watch all his movements as he pours a kettle of water into a shallow bowl and drops a cloth into it. He collects a pair of women's slippers as well from a trunk, putting them in my lap before he kneels before me, bowl in hand.
He reaches for my foot but I sweep both beneath the chair. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Your feet are filthy and bare." I dodge his next grab. Pirates may not have a taste for the proper things but I won't stoop even if I have no escape yet. "I have never met a woman so opposed to being taken care of."
"You had your first mate chase me in my own home, bind my wrists and drag me to your ship into the middle of the sea, before which you attacked my port. You are a vile, lawless thing and I will not enjoy you taking care of me."
"You have my apologies that I did not collect you myself-"
"Kidnap," I sneer.
"-I was directing the cannons and managing the helm." He drags my foot out with his gloved hand. "I'm sure you can understand."
"I don't understand any of this. If it's ransom you're after, you are moving very far from my father, the governor."
"Then you'll realize that I am not after a ransom as I'm the richest captain in this half of the world. I need you for something else."
"To be a toy?" I mock. "Is it not worth your riches to spend so little time in a brothel worth such an expensive harlot?"
"No," he chuckles. "I don't frequent brothels anymore though my taste is very expensive, love." He squeezes the cloth he had tossed in the water. Drops slide down his gloves. "I do not want you as a toy, either, but your purpose is very important to me." He drags the cloth up the bottom of my foot, not allowing me to draw it back.
"What is this thing that is so important for you, Captain?"
"I won't bore you with such things right now. We just met." He rinses his cloth without losing my gaze and repeats his movements. "All I ask is you try to sleep away your hesitations."
"I don't have hesitations, I want to go home."
"For that, I apologize."
"And you have my apologies if I don't trust a sniveling pirate's word."
"Insults do little to me. I've heard them all before and yours are quite tame. But by all means, continue." He finishes cleaning one foot and moves to the other. "Perhaps you'll feel better after."
I stay quiet. I don't feel good now and I won't feel better until I'm back in my bed. And I wish it was all a dream. I hit my head harder than I thought and I'll wake up with Paya fussing over me to get me dressed and brush my hair.
He finishes cleaning the grime from my feet then plucks the slippers from my lap. He slips them onto my feet and rises, forgetting about the soiled water and cloth on the table.
"You may go to bed now."
"I won't."
He huffs a sigh and I nearly take my turn to smile. I've already begun to crack away his bravado. If he's true about his word, he won't hurt me but I'll be such a nuisance he'll drop me on land somewhere and there will surely be redcoats for my rescue. And if not, Groose will catch up soon enough.
"I'm afraid I wasn't clear. Go to bed, Tetra. Now."
"I'm shocked you didn't offer to drag me there and tie me to it."
"Is that what you would prefer? It can be arranged."
Scowling, I shoot up from the chair and back towards the bed if only to get away from him. "Where will you be?"
"Wherever I wish to be. This is my ship and this is my cabin. You are just a guest."
"An unwilling one."
He smiles. "A guest all the same." He fishes the key from a pocket and moves for the door. "Goodnight, love."
He unlocks it and slips out, closing me off from every pirate on this ship.
My eyes sting but I swallow down the feeling. Tears won't save me just as kicking and screaming and threatening hanging didn't. I spin in place, eyeing the weapons he left out and unattended. With a quick glance to the door, I hurry to the desk and pick a short dagger before I rush to the bed.
I throw back the covers and hide the knife beside me. I sink into the mattress and lay awake, watching the door and listening to the dwindling chatter of the crew. As the time lumbers by, I realize he won't be back tonight.
I brave closing my eyes for just a moment. I forget to listen and take my glances as the stress turns to exhaustion. Brushing my fingers on the hilt of a stolen dagger, I drift off to sleep in a pirate captain's bed.
The sun kisses my cheeks and eyelids when my dream of marrying the commodore ends. The light is colored when I crack my eyes, squinting at the brightness.
It's not my room that greets me. It's dark wood and maps, swords, and other stolen things.
And the captain himself.
I sit up to see him draped on the same chair he forced me into last night. His hat is propped over his face and his legs are stretched to rest on the table, his arms serving as a pillow beneath his head.
It's no small amount of horror to realize he had to retrieve his hat from beside the bed. While I was asleep. I take a deep but slow breath. I let myself drift off here so comfortably and dream about my fiance.
No. Not fiance yet. But when he comes to save me, I'll marry him on the deck of his ship.
My fingers brush the warmed handle of the knife I swiped last night. He thought it wise to sleep in the same room as a kidnapped woman.
I slip from the sheets, the slippers soft beneath me. I adjust the knife as I creep closer.
I jump out of my skin when he throws his hand forward, wagging a bare finger. "I know what you have on your hand, Tetra." A few clicks from his tongue. "I thought you were a smarter girl than this."
"I want to go home-"
"Oh please, not this again. You must move past it." I refrain from reminding him I have been missing from my home for less than a day.
"What did you think would happen if you killed this ship's captain in his sleep?" he continues. "How would a headless crew behave to a woman when they're practically starved dogs when it comes to the soft hands of a female?"
I open my mouth and close it, grateful his hat is still covering his eyes because I hadn't thought that far ahead.
"You trusted your first mate to kidnap me. Would he not be the next captain?"
"He would." He pushes his hat onto his head and picks up the gloves he left discarded beside him. "However, Revali and I are very different men. He would lock you in the brig and forget about you seeing as you complain so often."
I suck in a breath. The brig is farther from rescue. Much too far.
He stretches his fingers into the gloves and stands, moving close enough to return his knife to his possession. I let him take it. "So there is another set of decisions before you. Try to kill me and your variables are unknown and the only man who cares about your wellbeing will be tossed to sea for the sharks to eat and you'll be alone with a murderous Frenchman deciding your fate. Or, you leave my things where they belong and this will all go according to plan."
"What plan?" I ask, ignoring the rest. It seems anything I do here is foolish.
"Don't worry yourself with it."
"Where are we going?"
"I'm not sure."
"You're the captain, how can you not know?"
"I don't always have a goal. I enjoy wandering from time to time."
His eyes trail down my front, taking in the nightgown now that there's light. I cross my arms over my chest.
"I have clothes for you," he says, saving me from having to ask.
I follow him to the trunk he went to last night, seeing that it's filled with women's clothes. Dresses and shoes and undergarments all in neat stacks. My face heats. Pirates really have no shame for such things. Any unmarried man with a trunk of women's stockings is cause for concern.
"I didn't know captains preferred ladies wear," I snip.
He pulls a dress from the stacks. "We don't pick through our spoils until we make away with it. But you wouldn't imagine the things ladies will trade for a few diamonds or dresses." I scowl at his back. I could imagine, I simply don't have the stomach to.
He turns and drops an outfit in my arms nothing like how Paya would or another one of our maids. She would have pulled me behind the screen and tugged me into the tight folds and strings.
"Is there something wrong with it, dear?" he asks.
"No." I haul the less than fine garments close to my chest. Anything is better than this gown I was kidnapped in. I might have even considered pants. "If you would leave so I could change."
He flashes a smile and tips his hat. "Don't take long."
I do just that. I wait for him to leave before I strip except I get into the new dress quickly. It's blue and floral, the sleeves hanging at my elbows with lace. But the fabric is far from soft.
And though I change quickly, I take my time raking my eyes over every surface of his quarters. I check the maps and scrolls, unfurling each one to study in the light, the sun made colored by the stained windows. There's lines drawn on most, showing where he's been or where he's planning to go someday. His ink is smeared, his writing messy.
I scoff. How completely useless. And none show where we might be. I couldn't say how fast his ship cuts through the sea or how many miles from home I am.
I swipe a brush from the same chest the clothes reside and yank tangles free. My eyes begin to water. Paya is much better at this even when the wind ties it into knots.
But Paya isn't here. I only hope no other pirate went after her once Revali Medoh threw me over his shoulder.
Father as well. Wherever he went the night before was surely secure. He wouldn't have been hurt in the attack. Groose would have protected him. The Commodore would have gotten through on sheer will and his absolutely bitter disdain of pirates. If only that could have helped my favor.
I gather up the fabric made flat by a lack of underskirts and head for the door. The last I need is for him to send one of his men to drag me into the sun. I've had enough of being treated as an unloved doll.
I turn the knob just to be met with salty air shoving itself up my nose. Seeing the ocean makes the subtle rock more pronounced and I fight the sway. I try to keep steady on my new flats and I walk out onto the deck, cringing at the sight.
Half of the men are wearing ill fitting clothing and the rest are lacking shirts. How barbaric.
They sweat as they mop the deck and tug on ropes, letting it look greasy on their hairy, pudgy chests. Their beards are unkempt, their hair mussed, and faces clearly unwashed. I still, debating if I should go back to the quarters and find something to bar the door with.
A laugh forces my head up and around to look at the rail and the man who had been steering the ship. He's rid of his coat now and stands in a vest and wide brimmed hat folded on one side. Loose black curls peek from beneath it.
"Pardon me, mademoiselle. Who picked your clothes?" I scowl. He wears a feathered hat and has the audacity to question my gown?
"Your captain."
"He's a fool. It will get dirty and then it will not be pretty."
"Perhaps you should mutiny then."
"It is always on my mind." His grin says it isn't a joke at all. Pirates aren't even loyal to pirates.
I turn back slowly, flexing my fingers in the cheap fabric. What does Captain Link Farore want with me and why must I come out onto a deck of sweaty, dirty pirates and one who dresses well but lacks manners?
"Mademoiselle," he calls again. I give him a sideways glance. "Come up here," he says, snapping his fingers. "Quickly."
He calls me up like a dog, and like a dog, I obey. I lift my skirts for the steps, watching the uneven boards. I've lost too much dignity in the past day that I can't afford to fall now.
The first mate drags his eyes up and down my dress, his smugness radiating off of him. "I still think you look like a Hilda."
As ridiculous as that claim is, it's not the reason he called me up. He jerks his head behind him to his captain and returns to the wheel to steer the ship.
I make my way to the captain, narrowing my eyes to his scope. Following the gaze, I look out to the unending blue behind us where the sky melts into the ocean. There's nothing.
"Come here," he orders. He places the scope in my hand when I'm close enough. "Look just out there."
I huff but take the scope and hold it to my eye where I think I saw him point. "There's nothing there-" He adjusts the aim as gently as he cupped my face last night and I shut my mouth. I see it. A speck so far out it brushes the horizon.
"What is that?"
He draws the scope away to reveal a knowing grin. "Your rescue, I assume."
I suck in a breath and hold the scope up once more. The sails are white and if I strain, I pretend I can see the paint of the ships in my harbor.
"How much do you like your neck, Captain?" I ask with as much smugness as Medoh has. The man barks a laugh at the wheel.
"I like it as much as the next man, love."
"The Commodore has the fastest ship in the fleet."
"Unfortunately, the Red Lion is faster." He turns his head lazily. "Slow us down, Medoh."
I nearly drop the scope as my heart sets a faster rhythm. "What are you doing?" I breathe.
"I'm going to have a little fun with your commodore."
"What?" I can't seem to suck down enough air. Everything suddenly begins to remind me of my failed proposal yesterday. The glaring sun, the tightness of a gown. The heat making any and all uncertainty so much worse.
"Would you like a place to sit?" he offers with feigned concern.
"You're going to fire on his ship," I accuse instead. He won't let Groose run him down. He'll let him come closer.
"That I am."
"You can't."
"What laws do I follow that says I can't fire on the royal navy?" I gape. What morals does one follow when laws are of no consequence?
"I know Commodore Skyloft personally and I promise he will leave splinters of your ship behind to sink."
He takes a step back and fits his hat back on his head from where it was resting on the rail. "As I said before. This is my ship, my crew, and my odds. All three are always in my favor." He adjusts the belt at his waist holding his guns and purple winged sword. "And it just so happens that I have precious cargo. He won't dare sink my ship while you're onboard."
"You're betting on an unfair fight."
He pats my cheek with his gloved hand before I can move away. "Precisely. Maybe you are a smart girl after all."
Not hiding my disgust, I follow him down the steps to the deck. He bellows orders, his voice seeming older than who they come from. I rush to keep up, my skirts tangling and steps unsteady as I weave through the crew and supplies and rope.
"You can't," I pant, his voice drowning mine.
He pauses his shouting to say, "Why is that?"
"You could kill him."
"His death is his to worry about," he laughs. "What did the commodore do to earn so much concern from a governor's daughter? You spoke so highly of him moments ago and now you fear for his life."
"He is my intended." I don't miss the way he stiffens or how his smile slides closer to a frown.
"Do you love him?"
I almost sputter. These are conversations among gossiping friends, not a captor and a prisoner. "What business is that of yours?" I snap.
He mends his smile but the smugness is gone. "I take a great deal of things I have no business having."
His words don't settle before his next loud order cuts through every noise.
"BRING US ABOUT!"
His second-in-command salutes his understanding.
"PREPARE THE CANNONS!"
Chains scrape the wood and the cannons are pushed to the edge. The ones here are nothing to the ones I saw below decks that fired on the fort last night. Instead of running or slowing down, he chooses to turn and attack like the lunatic he is.
"You can't!" I shout. My voice is lost under the orders his crew repeat to each other. They run to their posts, carrying cannon balls and barrels of powder. I leap out of the way. This is no place for me.
I turn to run back for the helm when the entire ship tilts. I stagger towards the edge, grasping wildly on the rail to keep myself from flinging overboard. I can't help my scream as the wind whips my hair and the sea beckons me to join it.
The man is mad. He's a lying, sniveling pirate and he'll try to kill everyone on that ship.
I run for the steps once more before the ship can straighten. I run right for the man at the helm as he spins the wheel, his laugh caught in a wild mix of madness and excitement.
"Stop him!" I beg. "Turn us back around!"
"Why would I do that, mademoiselle? It has been so dull lately!" He grabs his navy coat from a nearby barrel and slips it up his shoulders, snapping the lapels into place. He grabs a crossbow as well. I hadn't noticed it before. They're all madmen.
The captain joins us and takes the helm with a new seriousness set in his eyes as that speck in the distance is ahead of us now and getting larger faster than my heart is beating.
"Turn us back!" I plead.
He doesn't so much as acknowledge me.
I watch in horror as we sail closer, his previous order to slow down thrown to the same wind carrying us. I wave my arms at the royal ship pointlessly. Groose wouldn't turn back if I begged him to. He would chase us to the ends of the earth. Not for me. But to kill pirates. It's his own strain of glory.
His billowing sails grow larger. His ship is the bragging rights of the navy. Father adores it because it was sent to his port.
This captain aims to put it in the ocean.
I cling to a rope as more orders are shouted. Cannons are put into position and packed. Now close enough to see, the Commodores ship is doing the same.
Redcoats move on the deck in proper manner, holding their guns ready at their shoulders. It's nothing like the crew here, scurrying about like rats.
And he's there too, bellowing his orders the same as this pirate is. He wears the uniform he had yesterday. Maybe with his wits he'll manage to wreck this ship and take me to his. After all, he managed to track me down in a night.
I'm still watching when the captain gives his next order. "Give their commodore something to think over." I whirl to see Medoh knocking a bolt into his crossbow.
I grip his arm as he takes aim at the man I had just been watching. "What are you doing?! You're going to kill him!"
"No, mademoiselle." He shakes me off and takes his aim as the ships begin to align. "I never miss."
Just as he shoots, his captain orders another command. "FIRE!"
The call is echoed on both sides. And then chaos erupts.
Wood splinters and men scream. Cannons reel back as they fire, the ones below shattering the hull of Groose's ship. He isn't where he was before and only his soldiers are visible, running along the deck to escape the cannon fire. They move planks to the edge, attempting to board before the ships pass. To get me.
The ship rocks beneath my feet but I watch as more of their cannons are thrown back rather than firing. The captain was right. The Commodore wouldn't dare harm me in the process. He ordered them to board instead and fight their way to me.
I watch as soldiers clad in red climb the planks only to be met with pistols from the crew. I watch them fall, crashing to foamy water littered in debris.
And the men who killed them smile, happy for the fight. They're murderers and they relish in it.
"Fire, you glorious bastards!" the captain orders again. A fresh volley tears into the Skyloft's ship, ripping away pieces, flattening a mast. The sound of cracking wood and explosions and screams fill my head.
Red flashes of soldiers who made it across. They stab the crew with their bayonets, their heads swiveling to find me. The Commodore's ship may be crippled but the soldiers are trained far better than pirates.
I wave my arms, shouting to tell them where I am. A few see me and more follow, rushing for the stairs that lead to myself and the captain and the first mate.
I run to meet them but a hand clamps around my arm and hauls me back, sending me sprawling on my backside. I'm forced to watch as the two men turn their attention to the soldiers rushing them. And they do worse than what I have already seen.
Medoh fires a bolt directly between a man's eye and leaves his body for the others to trip over. They aim their bayonets but the captain meets them with his sword and pistol, cutting them down and shooting the ones he misses. Those who escape him fall into a deadly dance with Medoh where he abandons his crossbow in favor of pistols he draws from his back beneath his coat. He laughs as he shoots, throwing his emptied guns at them before he pulls his sword as well and drives it into a man's gut.
They fight as unfairly here as they do from the sea. They aim for the gut and neck, spilling blood from where they can reach. Bodies fall, cannons continue to fire. A chained cannonball crashes into the rail before the helm but it misses the captain. Splinters scratch his face and he grins at the blood. He's a man who truly believes his odds of death will never fail him.
They cut down the last, leaving a scattering of bodies. The last cannons fire and then it ceases, groans taking the place of the screams.
I scramble to my feet and grip the edge so see Groose's ship. The pride of the fleet is now in ruins. A mast leans over the deck, the sails now in tatters. Holes fill the hull, the rails are in pieces. Men alive and dead float in the water beside it, many scrambling for chunks of wood to keep them afloat.
My breath shakes as I stare. The Commodore is nowhere to be found in his blue coat and feathered hat. His men are dead, his ship all but sunk. And the crew I wasn't rescued from cheer from their unfair victory.
I turn to face the grinning first mate. He looks as though he wants more but he was right. He doesn't miss. He even managed to avoid flecks of blood from staining his coat.
And neither does his captain who smears the blood from his cheek, his chest heaving as he watches me. I grit my teeth.
I'm in front of him before I can notice my legs have moved. "You belong in the furthest reaches of hell," I spit.
"That may be so."
"Why." I demand it plainly, not bothering to let it be a question.
"I said before that you are important to me. I won't lose you so easily."
Heat rises in my chest and no matter how quick my breaths become, it doesn't cool.
I raise my hand to slap him.
A hand cups my chin and jerks my head so hard my neck sparks in pain. Medoh lowers his face close, his hand pinching my cheeks to keep my words clamped in my mouth. "You hit my captain and I will hit you," he promises, his voice low. The excitement from his expression is gone and his fingers dig deeper. "And I hit much harder."
"It's alright," the captain says. "Let her go."
The Frenchman whips to face him, his anger still rising. "It is not-"
He simply shakes his head. "Just put her in my quarters."
He's reluctant to agree but he releases my face and catches the key that is tossed his way. He sweeps me into his arms despite my protests-the ones he hushes with a string of vulgar French curses. He walks me over the bodies and down the steps to place me in the quarters that were untouched by cannons.
He slams the door closed and I hear the lock. It would seem the promise that none of his men would hurt me doesn't extend to his first mate.
I move to the stained glass windows and watch the closest rescue I had slowly disappear as a wreck surrounded by blue.
I don't swallow the tears as they come now. I'll have to find a different way. Any ship can last at sea for a time but none can last forever without docking to get supplies.
I let the tears come but once they dry, I begin my wait until the next port I see.