Page 11 of A Curse of Salt

‘Estelle is dead. My mother, she—’

‘Not her,’ Mors murmured, still quiet enough that only I could hear. His lips twisted into a smile. Smug, perhaps, that he’d guessed right: I wasn’t the sister they’d sent for. ‘There’s too much of your father in you. You’re a terrible liar.’

‘I – I . . .’ I stammered, but without lies I had nothing left to say. He knows.

Mors’ smile faded. ‘How many of you are there?’ he asked, his gentle features suddenly sharpening, voice urgent. ‘Estelle’s children, I mean.’

‘Just two,’ I whispered, knowing there was no use lying. I’d failed.

Mors nodded, looking appeased. Why did he care? Who was this man to play puppeteer with our lives?

My chin came up as I folded my arms and glared at him, trying to cover the panic swelling in my chest, wrapping around my heart. To my chagrin, Mors smirked.

He stepped back with a nod, turning to his companions who were watching intently. ‘It’s her.’

I stared at the old man, trying to decipher the look on his face. But his amusement had vanished and his amber eyes were inscrutable. He knew I wasn’t the daughter they’d bargained for, but he was covering for me. Like it mattered that I was the eldest – that I was her.

Gods, what are they going to do with me?

The dread in my throat thickened, dredging up the sickening realisation of just how powerless I was. Mired in something I had walked willingly into, yet hardly understood, surrounded by the deadliest pirates in the world. Now I was lying to them, too.

I blinked, cursing the fear that clawed at the backs of my eyes, pushing me to the verge of tears. It’s too late to be weak now.

The female pirate stepped forward, boots thudding against the deck as her eyes pinned me in place. They travelled disdainfully over my flushed cheeks, my rumpled dress and unkempt hair, her fingers moving silently to the blade at her hip.

‘Golde.’ The woman’s name sounded like a warning on her bearded companion’s lips, like a master beckoning a hound to heel – only, I had a feeling it was the hound who gave the orders around here, not him.

Golde glared at me. I was half a head taller than she was, but still I cowered back, more wary of those hands than the steel that gleamed between them.

‘No use killin’ her,’ the bearded man went on.

‘Aron.’ Golde’s retort came out in a growl. ‘Lemme have this one. We’ll get Bane wi’out her.’

The man – Aron – shrugged. ‘In the next few months? Doubt it.’

I didn’t have time to wonder who or what they were talking about, because the woman cast another look over me and gritted out, ‘If he kills us fer this, I’ll murder ye.’

Aron rolled his eyes at me. ‘Don’t mind her. Been a while since we’ve seen any action round here,’ he said with a laugh. As though that was a justifiable reason to kill me.

I stared incredulously after him as he strode to the edge of the ship, gesturing for me to follow. I glanced sideways at Mors for approval, unsure when a part of me had decided I could trust him. He might’ve been a traitor – now a liar, too – but I doubted I’d find a soul around here who wasn’t. Mors nodded.

I followed tentatively as the three pirates reached a rope ladder hanging from the Blood Rose’s starboard. The two younger-looking pirates went first, stepping from Leviathan’s deck and scaling with practised ease. Mors lingered behind.

‘Is anyone going to tell me what I’m doing here?’ I asked him in an urgent whisper.

He approached my shoulder, gazing at me with a contemplative look, softened by something almost like pity. ‘How old are you, lass?’

I hesitated a moment too long. ‘Twenty.’ When Mors arched a brow, I sighed. ‘Fine, eighteen.’

The old man nodded, shooting me a wan smile. ‘Secret’s safe with me.’

I gazed up at the hull of the Blood Rose with clenched teeth. ‘So, why are you helping me? What do they want with my sister?’

‘You really don’t know?’ he mused, those tawny eyes darkening.

‘Know what?’ Why was I always the one left in the dark?

‘Oi!’

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