Chapter 21 Rival Pirates
I paced the lower deck until the boards started to feel like they were pacing me back.
The ring at my throat thudded with every step, a second pulse that wouldn’t settle. Each footfall came down too hard—wood creaking under my weight, the air thick with old brine and damp canvas that clung to the back of my throat. Above me, voices bled through the planks. Short. Sharp. A burst of laughter cut off too quickly. Then a grunt. A curse.
I couldn’t stop moving.
If I stopped, I’d think. I didn't know where my thoughts and imagination would take me.
My hands wouldn’t stay still. Fingers curling, uncurling, nails biting into my palms just enough to remind me I was still here.
Still breathing.
Barely.
I found Reed tucked into a narrow nook off the corridor, half swallowed by shadow. A lantern swung overhead, its light sliding across his face in slow waves—gold, then dark, then gold again.
He was sorting through a crate. Bandages. Pistols. A sad bundle of carrots, their tops gone limp and useless.
He looked up when my steps hit too close.
His eyes widened.
“Are you alright?”
Careful. Like I might crack open right there and spill something he couldn’t put back together. I snorted, but it caught halfway up my throat and came out rough.
“Fine,” I said. The word tasted wrong. A bitter lie. I was far from fine. “I just… needed to move.”
Reed laughed, quick and thin. His hands sped up, shifting things around without really seeing them.
I hovered there, arms folding tight across my chest. Didn’t know what to do with them otherwise. Silence stretched between us. The ship filled it. Water slapping the hull. Ropes groaning somewhere above. The low, constant breath of the sea pressing in from all sides.
“You ever seen a real pirate fight before?” he asked, quieter now.
I shook my head. “No, never. I’ve only witnessed back alley brawls. But I have heard stories and rumors.”
He glanced toward the wall like it might be listening. “Bram says we’ll win,” he muttered. “He always says that.”
“Do you always win?” I asked. Unsure if I wanted to know the answer.
“Since I’ve been on The Ghost, The Cap hasn’t lead us into something we couldn’t handled.” Reed gleamed with pride but it soon faded. His fingers stilled for half a second. Then started again.
“But the Red Eel’s captain…” His mouth twisted. “Kip doesn’t fight like The Cap. He’d do anything to destroy Fisk.”
The Cap, Fisk.
The name landed heavier than it should have.
“He’s cruel,” Reed went on. “Smart, too. Doesn’t fight fair. Ever.”
I fixed my eyes on him. “Why does he hate The Cap so much?”
Reed hesitated. I knew I picked up on that. Reed leaned closer. I caught the sour edge of his breath, the damp salt of fear clinging to his collar.
“It’s old,” he whispered. “Years. Before Bram. Maybe before Talon.” I didn’t interrupt. He needed the words out.
“Some say they served together as brothers,” he said. “Same ship. Same flag. Something went wrong.” His voice dropped lower. “They say the captain left him for dead. Took the Ghost. Took the crew. Took everything from Kip”
My fingers found the chain at my throat without thinking. The metal was warm against my skin, the seam along it catching under my thumb where it had been repaired.
“Everything?” I pressed.
Reed’s shoulders shifted. Uneasy.
“Some say gold,” he said. “But that’s just what men say when they don’t want to think harder.” His eyes flicked to mine. “Others say it was a woman.” A pause. The lantern swung. Shadows crawled across his face.
“One time,” Reed said, barely breathing now, “Talon told me Harrow carries a grave with him.” My grip tightened on the chain. “Kip wants to fill it with our bones. Whatever that means.” Reed tried to laugh. It didn’t land right.
I rubbed my thumb harder against the seam in the gold, feeling the flaw, the place where something had broken and been forced back together. Some things never sat right again.
A boom cracked through the ship. The sound punched the air out of my lungs.
Cannon.
Not far enough. The hull under deck lurched.
Hard.
The world tilted and I slammed into Reed, the two of us crashing into the crate. Bandages spilled, carrots scattered, the lantern swinging wild and carving sickle-shaped light across the ceiling.
Above us, shouting snapped sharp.
“Brace!”
“BRACE!”
Reed scrambled up, face drained white. “They’re firing already,” he choked. “We’re not ready—we’re not—”
Another blast.
Closer.
The hull shuddered under it, deep and angry. Dust sifted down from the seams above, catching in my lashes, stinging when I blinked. I looked at the door out. I couldn’t stay here and not help.
“Stay below,” Reed said. His voice had gone tight, too high. “Captain’s orders.”
“I’m not his crew.” The words came out flat. “He doesn’t own me.”
Reed stared at me like he was just remembering that.
“If you go up there, you’ll get yourself killed.”
“Maybe.” Shrugging, I grabbed the gun. Talon gave me. “But I’m not hiding.”
Not while he was up there. Not while any of them were. I didn’t wait for Reed to argue. I turned and pushed toward the ladder.
He followed.
Of course he did.
At the base, I stopped. Just for a second. The world above leaked down in fragments—boots pounding, men shouting, something heavy dragging across wood. The sharp, bitter tang of gunpowder slipped through the cracks and settled on my tongue.
Reed came up beside me. His hands were shaking. From fear or excitement I didn’t know. Didn’t bother to analysis it.
“You coming?” I asked.
He swallowed. Nodded. The ship bucked again. The ladder rattled. I tipped my head back, staring up into the chaos I couldn’t yet see.
Drew in a breath.
Held it.
Let it out slow.
The way he’d shown me.
Then I finished the climb.