Page 11 of Trapped By Vengeance

I turn to where Eloise is serving our portion of the rations on three platters.

“I don’t know, pup.”

Eloise’s eyes widen.

“Don’t know the Baron’s first name,” I add quickly. “Sir Pigeon will be perfectly safe.” Or else I’m going to have to teach another bird to answer to that name because I cannot stand the thought of Eloise mourning another life because of Baron Schwerin.

Eloise narrows her eyes at me. They are the forest green shade she gets when she is suspicious. Then she gestures to the tray loaded with a turkey leg, broth, and a piece of the same loaf of bread I fed Sir Pigeon with. “For our prisoner. Can I take it to her?”

“Not this time, pup. She’s still a little mad at us, and I don’t want her lashing out at you.”

The elfling rolls her eyes dramatically. “Just because we abducted her? Some people can be so sensitive.”

“Yeah. So sensitive.” I gather the tray. “Remember the rules.”

“No leaving the cabin after sunset and no going with any of the pirates alone. I know!” Elosie falls dramatically back onto her cot.

“Your crow’s nest can be climbed again tomorrow,” I assure her, as much as it pains me. Then I push open the door and move to the door of the cabin adjoining mine.

The Klepper twins are whispering outside the bolted door, both bearing bandages from their skirmish with Valda.

“Hey,” I say, startling them. “I said no need to post a guard.”

“But she’s a dangerous little vixen,” warns the brother with a bandage on his collar.

I narrow my eyes, making a deep growling sound in my throat to remind them of what I’m capable of. Not that I’ve told them outright that I’m a werwölfe since they could report me, but I have allowed the right amount of rumors to spread through the crew to keep them fearing to cross me. “Orders are orders.”

“Yes, sir.” They scuffle away, glancing back at me a couple of times.

Shaking my head, I lift the bolt from the door as quietly as possible. The moment it’s on the ground, though, I reach out my hand, snatching Valda’s gloved wrist as she tries to flee past me.

“Not this time, Lady Valda,” I say, drawing her back into her cabin. “My coat is still drying, thank you very much.”

Valda flashes her teeth at me as I all but toss her onto her bed. “What a shame. You don’t look nearly as debonair without it.”

I set her tray on the table beside her bed and then freeze. “You think I look debonair?”

“Not anymore.” Valda lies seductively on her cot, accentuating the shape of her hip. “You’ll have to try harder to impress me now. Mayhap by letting me go?”

Shaking my head, I walk backward toward the door. “Have a good night, Lady Valda. I hope you enjoy your sup.”

She sits up and reaches for the bowl of soup. Then, maintaining eye contact, she tips the bowl over and spills her soup all over the floor.

I grit my teeth, thinking of the limited rations we have to make sure to stretch before the ransom is approved. “Now, Lady Valda, was that really necessary?”

“I’m very particular about my food.” She picks up her turkey leg.

“Valda, no—”

She throws it out her porthole. “It’sLadyValda to you.”

I watch in horror as a seagull swoops in and grabs its kindred’s leg for nefarious purposes.

When I turn back to the vixen, there is a wicked glint in her dark eyes, and she’s holding the chunk of bread.

“Please don’t,” I whisper.

“Please let me go,” she murmurs.

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