Page 48 of Freeing Hook

“Enough time to escape. Right,” I say, trying and failing to make the words seem comforting. “One would think that all that climbing I did would prepare me more for this,” I say.

Charlie shrugs. “Climbing’s mostly in the legs.”

It takesme finally dropping my short sword and almost slicing Maddox’s foot off for him to end our training session for the day. Thankful for an opportunity to collapse into bed, I make my way for my and Charlie’s room, but she bounces in front of me, blocking my path.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere my muscles can sufficiently melt,” I say, to which Charlie tsks.

Charlie is under the impression that I’m depressed.

Granted, staying in bed despite the location of the sun in the sky or the quality of the weather for the past few weeks, except for my brief hiatus to train with Maddox, was probably what gave her that impression. In truth, my brief flare of bravery in approaching the captain about training me had been a short-lived flicker that had soon been doused in the hopelessness of my situation.

“I don’t think so,” says Charlie, motioning me to follow her deeper into the hull of the ship.

I try to track our path, but the inside of the ship might as well be a labyrinth with how many “shortcuts” Charlie takes through strange spaces—she even has me climbing through a vent at one point, which is more fun than I care to admit.

Eventually, we make our way back up a ladder hanging down from the deck above, and I’m left to wonder why we went so deep into the ship in the first place.

“Surely there’s a more efficient way to get around,” I say. “Unless the person who engineered this ship also wrote mazes for the paper.”

Charlie flashes me a grin as she slides a brass key into a lock and opens a creaky door leading into a dark, long hall. “There is a more efficient way to get here. You’re just not allowed to know it. Captain’s orders.”

“Is he always this paranoid about the aristocrats he kidnaps?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “What does he think I’m going to do?”

“Nothing, I’m sure. It’s not as if you’ve ever escaped him before. Or managed to keep him prisoner for weeks. Or kneaded the mind of a brothel owner in your hands like it was made of dough.”

I stop, blinking. “You’re making all that sound much more impressive than it actually was. John—my brother—helped meescape Astor the night of the masquerade. And Astor was already unconscious when I bound him in Neverland. Otherwise, I never would have been able to incapacitate him. And the brothel owner wasn’t exactly the most clever being I’ve encountered.”

Charlie tosses her long, silky hair behind her shoulder. “The captain says you used to free-climb the outside of your parents’ clock tower. You don’t think that’s gutsy?”

I flush, though I don’t know why. “More like irresponsible.”

“I think you’ll find that on vessels such as this one, we have more pleasant vocabulary for the reckless among us,” she says. “I would ditch the word ‘irresponsible’ if I were you. Leave it back with the aristocrats.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, but I smile all the same as I examine our surroundings. The hall galley is long, with small square windows cut into the hull of the ship, each with a flap that closes over it. Only a few of them are open at the moment, enough to let the day’s light in so no one has to light a lamp. It might not be the deck, but the taste of the salty sea finds my lips nonetheless, the careless crash of the waves beyond us filtering in through the windows.

My spirits have lifted already.

Lining the hall is a row of cannons, planted with even spaces in between like a farmer might sow seeds. Crew members tend to the cannons, cleaning out and oiling the barrels.

Charlie cocks her head toward a cannon with no one stationed at it. “Come here and I’ll show you how to clean it,” she says.

“Not how to fire it?” I ask.

She offers me a closed-mouthed smirk, her head bobbing. “Maybe. If I can convince the captain it’s a good idea and not one that’s going to land him in trouble.”

I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. I’m pretty sure I’m the least dangerous person ever to have graced the planks of thisship. Charlie must find the concept absurd too, as she lets an amused giggle escape her lips. “What does he think I’m going to do? Blow his head off?”

Charlie opens her mouth, then shuts it quickly.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just…” She leans in conspiratorially. “I’m not sure the captain’s as much afraid of what you’ll do with a weapon, but what it will do to him to see you wielding one.”

I clear my throat and spin Peter’s ring around my finger as one of the crew members behind us snickers.

As Charlie shows me how to care for the barrel of the cannon, I find it surprisingly relaxing, even the feel of grease against my hands.

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