Page 15 of Virelai's Hoard
“I’m sure you will.” Another pat and a soft smile.
The next few days passed by in a blur of exhaustion and sore limbs. She might as well have been the only newcomer on the ship, with Gadrielle hell-bent on giving her a crash-course in what it meant to be a good deckhand. She couldn’t even take Maren’s example and bribe the more hardworking sailors to do her tasks for her, becauseeveryeye was on her after the stunt she’d pulled to get on the Moonshadow in the first place. There was no working around it. She had to prove herself. Scrubbing and swabbing the deck, learning knots, hauling and coiling rope, peeling potatoes, cleaning pots, and on and on it went.
Riley did climb, though. At night, after everyone was knocked out and snoring, she snuck out of her assigned hammock, bundled it up, and climbed the ratlines of the smallest mast–the mizzenmast, they called it–all the way up until she reached the lowest crow’s nest. Only the mainmast had a look-out at night, and they hadn’t noticed her yet. Using her hammock, she draped it around the low railing of the nest as a shield against the wind, and claimed the cramped, chilly platform as her own. It wasn’t ideal, but it was private, and it was hers, and no one knew shewas here. It was the only thing that allowed her to relax and fall asleep, every danger on the ship far below her.
Her sleep was fitful and disjointed, despite the exhaustion from long days at work, and she frequently woke up in a sweat after dreams of falling. She’d tried to trade the nest for the warmth of the galley, hide among the cargo in the hold, even gave the powder room a try, but none of those had felt safe enough for sleep. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every day that passed by, more sailors greeted her by name. The mocking jokes of that first morning became friendly jabs, and even Gadrielle lost some of her sharpness while teaching her.
Bad things always happened when she let her guard down, though, so she didn’t. It had taken her two days to even use Eryx’s present–a cream, thick and white and soothing–worried about the demands the pirate could make of her in exchange. But Eryx hadn’t spared her a glance in days. And her hands were rope-burnt and blistered. The cream gave her instant relief.
As more days went on, an uncomfortable feeling built up in her chest, and Riley didn’t trust it at all.
5. Spoonful of Trouble
Riley
Riley was so busy trying to settle into ship life that she’d failed to notice that Patch was getting mightily bored. Once she did, it was too late.
She was sitting with Maren, eating breakfast, when she spotted the trouble-making rodent dashing between feet and chairs and tables and coming straight at her. A small object glinted in his mouth. Something precious, judging by the angry stomping and shouting at his heels.
This was bad.
Without a second thought, Riley opened her bag for Patch to jump in and hide, safe and chuffed about his prized catch. A silverspoon, apparently. Under any other circumstances, Riley might’ve praised him for the thoughtful upgrade–she’d been given, like everyone else, a wooden spoon to eat with, polished smooth by countless other mouths that had used it before her–but unlike any other con they’d pulled off before, she waslivingamongst these people. Which meantthe entire crewknew Patch by now. And his owner.
Two arms slammed against her table, knocking one of the bowls on the floor and giving Maren his cue to slip away. “You have something of mine.”
Slowly, Riley looked up, and all the blood drained from her face when she saw the pirate. It was Sable. The first mate. She recognized her by the gnarly scar on her cheek, now twisted in the woman’s barely suppressed snarl. Riley’s mind went blank, but for one instruction, looping over and over in her head.
Rule number one: don’t ever, ever tell the truth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, crumpling her face in confusion.
“You don’t-” Sable sputtered, blinking incredulously at her.
In a split moment, Sable’s hand shot forward and grabbed her collar, jerking Riley forward until she felt the edge of the table digging into her stomach. Hot breath puffed against her face as the first mate said, low and menacing, “Give me that, and maybe I won’t have you thrown to the sharks.”
Distantly, Riley was aware of the other pirates, their meals forgotten on their tables as they turned to gawp at the scene, but her awareness narrowed to focus solely on the danger in front of her.
Sable glared down at her, her grip keeping Riley stuck awkwardly between the wooden bench and the bolted table. The corded muscles in the pirate’s arms and shoulders bulged with the visible strain it took to keep herself in check. The lanterns on the walls bathed her brown skin in a warm hue, but it was an illusion. Everything about the first mate was hot-blooded fire, and Riley was about to get singed. A red and white bandana held back Sable’s dark hair–styled in dreads that fell over her shoulders–giving Riley a front-seat view of her furious black eyes.
It was enough to choke the air out of her lungs.
She had to get away.
Riley jerked back, to no avail. Sable’s grip was iron, and she wasn’t budging any more than the table was. Her fist twistedharder in Riley’s collar, pulling until their faces were a breath apart from each other.
“I’m gonna give you until the count of five to hand it over,” Sable said. “You don’t want to know what happens at five.” Her lips twitched, and Riley could only stare.
“One.”
Her breath brushed against Riley’s lips, and a shiver went through her. It was close, and warm, and humid.
“Two.”
It curled in the air between them, kissed with smoke and a hint of molasses. Without meaning to, Riley breathed the scent in.
“Three.”
She glanced at Sable’s lips as they moved, wondering at their taste. Riley licked her own lips, and she swallowed.
