Page 10 of A Curse of Salt

Ropes flew over the sides of the Blood Rose and iron hooks hurtled through the air, lashing around the yardarms above me. I stumbled back, the breath catching in my throat as a horde of bodies descended. They swarmed Leviathan like insects scuttling over the bones of a carcass, bringing with them the stench of rum and rust. Rotting teeth, dirt-caked flesh and unwashed faces; they were exactly as I’d imagined them, only so much more feral and frightening up close.

Pirates.

They crowded around me, strident laughter and raucous jeers filling the morning air.

‘Look what we have here . . .’

‘Pretty thing, ain’t she?’

‘A princess, eh?’

Princess. I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a compliment or an insult. Leering faces swam across my vision, grubby hands restless and reaching. Their putrid stench and vulgar words brought bile to my throat as I stumbled back, dodging their advances.

Rough fingers wrapped around my arm, tugging me sideways. A man’s face blurred before me as he crowed to his companions in glee, ignoring the way I squirmed in his grasp.

‘A’ight, enough.’

A voice broke through the din and the pirates stilled. One man swaggered forth from the crowd and the grip on my arm slackened. I tugged myself free, turning to face the newcomer with a mixture of belligerence and fear.

The pirate slouched before me, his lean body shrouded in fabrics as filthy as he was, his bearded face leathery and wrinkled from a lifetime of sun. I met his grey eyes, surprised by what I found there – the glimmer of something dangerous yet bright.

My knees didn’t buckle beneath the weight of his gaze, nor did my heart thrill in anticipation of its final beat and I knew this wasn’t the Heartless King. Because I didn’t see death in him, only curiosity.

A woman lolled on his left flank, clothed in the same breeches and grimy blouse as her crew-mates, a sabre glinting tauntingly at her side. Jet-black hair hung about her shoulders, shadowing gaunt features and dark eyes. I shifted on my feet, toes curling in my boots at the distaste in her bloodthirsty gaze.

‘Gotta say, I’m surprised ye showed up,’ the bearded pirate said, lips twitching. ‘Lucroy’s daughter, are ye?’

I swallowed. ‘Y-yes.’ Someone scoffed behind me and I straightened, fists curling at my sides. ‘You summoned me, so here I am,’ I forced out, bolder.

‘Don’t look like much,’ grunted the woman.

‘Well, I’m here,’ I said stiffly, lifting my chin. Even the gods would’ve laughed at my attempts to seem brave then, with those pirates’ prickling gazes turning my skin inwards, my heart hammering so loud I could scarcely hear. ‘What is it you want with me?’

The two pirates in front of me exchanged a look.

‘Mors, what d’ye think?’ asked the bearded one, his bright grey eyes sparkling.

A third figure emerged from the crowd behind me, steps slow and measured. White hair grazed his narrow shoulders, but there was a sturdiness to his fair features that told me he wasn’t nearly as frail as he looked.

Mors. I knew instantly who he was. The man who’d known my father, who’d saved his life and tried to surrender my sister’s in the process. I quashed the simmering tempest in my chest, the rising tide of dread. I didn’t know whether to hate him or to fall to my knees and thank him. Thank him, because if things went to plan, my sisters would live to see the summer.

I kept quiet, watching warily as he approached. The entire crew’s attention fixed on me as Mors studied my face, my simple blue dress and long, tangled hair. I met his gaze levelly, praying I would give nothing away.

Mors stared into my eyes for a long time and I couldn’t tell if he was lost in them or his thoughts. They were my mother’s eyes – Felicie’s, too. Large, round, gold as the setting sun. What was he looking for?

‘Estelle . . .’ he said eventually, his gaze never leaving mine. ‘She looks just like her.’

I wondered how my mother’s name tasted on his lips, if his tongue was poisoned by guilt. His voice was almost tender, his accent polished, and if it hadn’t been for his loose-fitting shirt, his unkempt mop of hair and the small gold hoop dangling from his left ear, I’d have thought him a gentleman.

The breath of relief on my lips evaporated as Mors stepped closer. I swallowed, fighting the urge to back away as I struggled to still my pounding heart. Another step and he’d be able to hear it, I was sure.

No way he can know, I repeated to myself. I’m my mother’s daughter as much as Felicie is, there’s no way—

Mors leaned in, body angled to shield his words from the rest of the crew. He smelled of soap and salt, of sweat clinging to sun-kissed skin.

‘So, where is she?’

My eyes cut to him, a glance so full of fear that if he hadn’t been sure before, he would be now. My heart plummeted. No.

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