Page 75 of A Curse of Salt

‘Ye’re one to talk, ye flea-bitten swine,’ Una yelled back, pelting a boiled potato at his head. ‘Who was it that had the whole crew swabbin’ the decks when he couldn’t keep down a bottle o’ rum?’

Aron laughed uproariously. ‘Oh, we’ll see tonight, lassie. Ye won’t survive the swim and I won’t save ye when ye’re drownin’.’

Una scoffed. ‘We’ll see who’s drownin’ when I’m holdin’ yer head underwater.’

‘Ye’ll be out cold ’fore ye get the chance,’ he said, shaking his head dismissively.

Golde snorted. ‘Aye. Don’t ye think we’ve a fair bit more experience than ye, lassie?’

Una crossed her arms over her chest, muttering something beneath her breath about damned and ancient bastards.

‘Fancy joinin’ us, lass?’ Aron asked, turning his attention to me.

I choked. ‘To swim?’ I looked around the table at the crew’s amused faces. ‘In the ocean? At this time of year?’

‘They do it every winter,’ Mors explained with a roll of his eyes. ‘No one’s drowned yet, but – well, we can always hope.’

‘So, ye up fer it?’ Aron pressed.

Una shot him a glare. ‘She’s a princess, Aron.’

‘Aye, a princess who could outswim all yer lily-livered arses,’ Golde remarked, her voice low in the dim light.

I glanced over at her, meeting those dark, angular eyes. ‘I doubt anyone would call me a princess now,’ I said, taking another sip of rum, relishing its heat. I didn’t need Aberdeen here to tell me that princesses didn’t drink with pirates and sleep in the bed of their king.

Aron’s eyes twinkled. ‘No reason ye can’t join us, then.’

‘Leave it,’ Sebastien growled, cutting through their lively chatter. They were the first words he’d spoken all night, and I shot him an indignant glare, hating the way my heart jumped at the sound of his voice.

‘You know, I think I will,’ I said, turning back to Aron.

Sebastien eyed the goblet in my hand with a smirk. ‘I think you’ve had enough of that,’ he observed.

‘I thought pirates were supposed to get drunk,’ I retorted, taking another sip.

He looked unimpressed. ‘Is that so?’

Aron snickered. ‘Aye, she’s one o’ us now.’

Sebastien arched a brow at me. ‘Think you’re a pirate, do you?’

I glanced across the table and grinned at Aron over the rim of my cup. ‘A wise man once told me that a pirate needs only three things,’ I replied wilfully. ‘Rum, war and – well, I’ve practically had them all.’

Una spat out her drink with a loud snort. Aron thumped her on the back, the pride in his smile making my heart swell. Even Mors shook his head with a chuckle, cheeks flushing as he glanced down at his plate.

‘Aye.’ Sebastien shot me a wry look, inclining his head. ‘Drink, then.’

23

Stumbling out into the frost, I understood why the crew had been so eager to fill their bellies with rum. I thanked the gods for its buzzing heat as the icy moonlight caught me in its fist, turning my skin inwards, my breath misting the air.

The effects of the alcohol caught up with me quickly, tripping up my footsteps as I walked. Sebastien’s hand shot out to steady me, his long strides keeping pace beside me. I tried to brush him off but my steps steered me closer to his side, absorbing the warmth from his body.

Aron and Una wandered a few steps ahead, howling with laughter at something the rest of us had missed.

We stopped beneath the mainmast, the crew tossing their weapons into a pile and kicking off their shoes. Golde cried the order to heave to and drop anchor before she darted up the ratlines in a flash, disappearing into the darkness.

Una grinned, nudging my ribs. ‘Watch this.’

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