Page 3 of Of the Stars and Sea

Everyone goes back to their business, the tavern brimming with liveliness, as if nothing happened. The sailor gives me one last look of contrition before skittering back to his table, where he nearly misses his stool but finds a way to keep himself upright.

“Any more of this shit and we’re going to be here all night,” Amara murmurs at my side before we finally arrive at the tavern’s back door. “Captain Stone, here to see Red Beard,” she says on my behalf to the guard. His stubby nose and stringy hair makes him look worse for wear, but I know Red Beard wouldn’t hire a mindless dog to keep watch. It’s all a façade, a smoke screen to present to the world that hides the monster behind it. One who enjoys watching others unknowingly trip into his cave of gloom, only to be devoured in whatever agonizing way he chooses.

The guard utters a grunt of acknowledgment before shifting to the side. I steel my racing heart before Amara, and I step past the threshold and into the darkness.

Candlelight flickers along the damp walls, creating long shadows that dance with my uneasiness.

I know I shouldn’t be here. I know there is a fate of grander things waiting for me beyond the chains that shackle me to this forsaken place. But deals were struck, and my last name keeps me beholden to them, no matter how desperately I wish to leave it all behind. Running isn’t an option. We have little coin and Red Beard would send an armada to find me. And I can’t have that.

Not when the lives of my crew hang in the balance.

So, I round my shoulders and face the consequences of every decision that has led me here—to Red Beard’s meeting place.

Parchment is strewn across his large wooden desk with broken seals that belong to countless members of the nobility. When the higher-ranking members of society find their possessions stolen by a pirate, they come to Red Beard. Then, he passes the bounties on to me and I am forced to take down my own kind—returning jewels and gold and whatever trinkets the noble bloods deem important enough to hire a bounty hunter for.

There is only one chair in the entire space and it sits behind Red Beard’s desk, giving visitors the impression thatheis the only one to be at ease.

Two guards stand watch behind him, ready to throw themselves into the fray, should someone dare to strike. The guard on the left must come from sea witch blood, as his eyes shine with a pearlescent white that only descendants of sea witches are known to possess. He is large, and overwhelms the cramped space. A threat, to be sure, but he’s likely slow. As my gaze lands on the guard on the right, I immediately know he is the deadlier of the two. With a shorter stature—not much taller than me—he is likely the one to strike first while the other lands the killing blow.

I’ve never seen the two of them before, but there is a high turnover rate in Red Beard’s guard. Most of them are either killed for failing or Red Beard sends them into the city to act as his spies.

“Rowenya Stone?—”

“CaptainRowenya Stone,” Amara corrects Red Beard. A bold move.

I’m thankful for her efforts, but I eye her sidelong. Now is not the time for formalities and corrections. Red Beard isn’t to be trifled with and he’s the one thing standing between us and freedom. Not to mention, I have no intention of fighting our way out of here tonight. We need our assignment so we can get the hells out of here.

A sharp whistle sings through the air as he sucks in a breath through his yellowed teeth. His ruddy nose scrunches tight as he assesses Amara, likely wondering just how far her tongue might carry her before he decides to sever it. He rakes a hand over his greasy scalp, where only a few strands of red hair are slicked back over his shiny head.

My heart clamors in my chest and I’m thankful Red Beard isn’t magically inclined with better hearing. I like to keep my weaknesses to myself.

“Interrupt me again,girl,and I’ll feed your corpse to the fish beneath my docks.” Spittle flies from his mouth and the smell of his rotten breath has my eyes watering, but I keep the bile that rises in my throat down.

Amara shifts on her feet, the threat sobering her.

I take a step forward and he shifts his beady eyes back to me. “I take it the last bounty I brought in served you well, if you’re summoning me again so soon,” I say, choosing my words as carefully as possible. Red Beard requires respect, but he also values strength. If I show any signs of fear, he’ll filet me alive.

His nose wrinkles again. He snorts, taking a seat in his wide leather chair.

The guards standing behind him take a step back, giving him more room. But they never take their eyes off Amara and me.

“It is true. The services you provided have impressed me over the years.” He sneers, then points a thick finger at Amara. “But that does not grant yourdogpermission to speak out of turn.”

Amara steps forward, her hand on the hilt of her sword. The smaller guard behind Red Beard pitches a dagger at Amara so quickly, I almost miss it. The pointed metal slices through the air and lands in the wall behind us with a quiet thud.

I throw my hand across her chest to prevent her from moving forward any further, and watch as she touches the edge of her ear. Her golden eyes narrow and the corner of her mouth hitches up in a snarl as she brings her fingers down in front of her face.

Blood mars her skin, the crimson wet shining in the candlelight.

My nostrils flare. I should have stopped her from drinking before we came to this meeting. Rum always loosens the leash she holds on her anger.

I turn back to Red Beard, keeping my arm straight across Amara’s chest. “It won’t happen again.”

Red Beard looks subtly to his right and juts his chin out in a nod. The dagger wielder moves past Amara and me. Without looking behind us, I hear him remove his dagger from the wall. When he comes back into view, he stops in front of Amara, tilting his head to the side, studying her. Amara’s chest stills against my arm as she holds her breath. The guard lifts the dagger to his lips, Amara’s blood dripping along the edge. With one long stroke of his tongue, he licks her blood from the dagger before sheathing it back into his belt.

Chills skitter along my spine as my arm drops from Amara’s front, back to my side.

Vampyre.

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