Page 92 of Captive of the Pirate King
Well… most of them. I catch glimpses of a few disgruntled or uncertain faces. Friends of Neelan, Gorm, and Tir, perhaps—or pirates who don’t appreciate their king breaking the laws he enforces so violently on everyone else.
As Locke continues, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Kardon, Cyprus, and Puckley have mounted the stage and are standing behind us, a little distance away, near the musicians. Even though I don’t know them well, their presence is comforting—a sign of silent loyalty to Locke.
“You all know my laws,” the Pirate King continues. “No one under my flag takes another human—woman or not—without their consent. And because women are more likely to suffer such indignity, they may not serve beneath the Crowned Skull or take passage on one of my ships. I made this law when I first became your king, when captains brought me their abused female captives and expected me to thank them for the flesh tribute.”
Locke’s voice shakes a little—not with weakness, but with suppressed rage. “I had my reasons for the law. But I did not often have to see it enacted in person. And I hadn’t thought of every possible scenario or result—not until this voyage, and this woman. It’s important to me that you understand—I never forced her into any act she did not welcome.”
More whistles and some coarse shouts from the pirates. Locke doesn’t smile, and I don’t blush. I’m watching every shifting emotion on his face, my pulse racing as I read the tiny expressions the rest of them can’t see. The tension of his jaw, the twitch of a muscle at his temple, the flick of his tongue across his dry lips. Despite his bravado, he’s nervous, suppressing a vast gale of emotion.
“I didn’t spare Veronica so I’d have a body in my bed,” he says. “At first, I claimed her as my whore and lied about my true motives, because I was ashamed for breaking my own law, and afraid of the consequences. Who am I if I don’t abide by the guidelines I set for every man in my fleet?”
The crowd quiets, riveted by his intense tone.
“One thing came clear to me—clear as the blazing sun on the midday sea. Any law that made me ashamed of saving her life was flawed. And I was just as deeply flawed, for denying her the dignity she deserves. We’re a rough lot, we are. I may talk a fine game, but I come from as shitty a place as anyone else here. We don’t talk much of how we feel, because it’s what we do that matters—how we overcome—and what we take from those who are undeserving!”
As his voice rises, defiant and rebellious, the crowd swells with eager, assenting murmurs.
“But I am here tonight to beg my lady’s forgiveness.” The Pirate King hands off his drink to Thora and faces me, gathering my hand in his.
Then he sinks to one knee, sweeping off his feathered hat and tossing it aside.
What is he doing?
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Shivering whispers rustle over the crowd. My palms are slick with sweat, and I’m terrified that my thundering heart might crack right through my breastbone. My head pounds with fevered heat.
What is he doing?
Locke’s pale eyes hold mine, and in them I see trepidation, wild determination, and a violent, all-consuming adoration that snatches my breath.
“Veronica, I ask your pardon,” Locke says hoarsely. “And I ask you to take your place as my Queen, my equal in everything, my partner in every work. You will write the new law for the treatment of women aboard my ships, and by god, I will see it enforced to the letter.”
My knees quake. I want desperately to wipe off the hand he’s holding—it must feel disgustingly damp to him. Though he doesn’t seem to care.
Pirate Queen.
Maker of new laws.
His equal partner in the work.
It’s everything I wouldn’t let myself admit I wanted.
This is the ultimate weakness, confessing his love for me before all these rough, weathered, gritty people. He’ll be quietly mocked for it in taverns. Some pirate captains may leave his fleet, convinced that he’s gone soft. He may lose influence, and his reputation may suffer.
Yet he’s doing this anyway, knowing what could happen. He’s doing it because I am important to him.
I am the one thing he does not want to lose.
Maybe it’s selfish of me to make this decision before everything is resolved with my brother. But somehow, I feel comforted and confident knowing that after the voyage to confront Mordan—if we survive—I’ll have a home to return to—a place and a purpose.
All of this rushes through my head in a handful of seconds. Locke’s eyes widen, uncertainty creeping into them. He’s afraid my hesitation is a denial.
He looks lost.
All rational thought sweeps from my head, like a sandcastle washed away by the tide, and all that’s left is the shimmering truth of my feelings for him.
I sink to my own knees, and I lay my palm against his cheek. “You have my pardon and my partnership.”
