Stars, it’s Sheck.

Why does he have to be the one to catch me?

He’s got both arms around me, holding my own arms flat against my sides. I wait for him to turn me around, to carry me over to Riden or Draxen. But he does no such thing.

He shoves me against the wall of the tavern. I feel a hand at my lower back, dipping lower.

Sheck has no intention of taking me back to Riden—not right away, at least. And I have no intention of waiting around until he’s ready.

“You’re going to want to let go of me now,” I say, giving him a chance to walk away, even though he doesn’t deserve one.

He doesn’t speak. And why should he? He’s more beast than man.

I hop into the air and press my feet flat against the wall, giving it a good push. Sheck tries to catch himself. But his choices are to let go of me or fall on his arse.

Surprisingly, he chooses the second.

My body is not enough weight to knock the breath from him, but I’m sure the fall had to hurt. I take some comfort in this.

I try to roll away from him, but his grip is too tight. I can tell he’s done this many, many times before.

The thought spurs me on. I bring my head up as high as it will go, straining my neck. Then I send it flying backward. I can feel his nose connect with the back of my head in a loud crunch.

That is what finally prompts him to loosen his hold.

I stand an instant later, but before I can take a step, Sheck wraps a hand around my ankle.

I turn and kick him in the face with my free foot.

His face is a bloody mess now. I cannot make out his nose, eyes, or mouth. He can’t still be feeling the heat of desire in his condition, can he? I hope not, but I have to assume the worst of people in my line of work. Besides, some men get a reaction from pain. Sheck is likely one of those.

Kearan moans from where he lies on the ground, passed out in his own vomit. He smells nastier than Sheck. But I don’t need to touch him, just the grip of his sword. I could grab the dagger from my boot, but using it at this point requires close contact, and I don’t want to be near Sheck ever again.

I hear a growl from behind me. It’s the first sound I’ve ever heard Sheck mutter. It’s an ugly, foul sound that makes me want to run, but I’ve fought that impulse my whole life. I’ve had to. It’s been the only way to impress my father.

Besides, this man deserves to die, and I’ll gladly be the one to do it. I grab the cutlass and turn. Sheck doesn’t have his sword drawn. He’s probably not used to women fighting rather than trying to run away.

I don’t think he even notices there’s a weapon in my hand until I stab him in the stomach with it. He cries out, still moving. It’s not half the pain he deserves for the type of life he’s lived, but it’s enough to make me feel a little better. I don’t wait more than a couple of heartbeats before dislodging the weapon and stabbing again, this time higher, toward his heart. He tries to squirm under its weight, but that only makes his blood run out all the more faster. He’s dead in seconds.

I take a few deep breaths before setting the sword beside Kearan. One less monster in the world.

But I still need to get caught. It should not be this difficult to stay a prisoner on a pirate ship. This is the second time I’ve had to stage my own capture. Ridiculous.

I turn toward the tavern, wondering how I’m to get someone inside to catch me without making it look too obvious, when I notice someone standing in the opening between the tavern and the next building over.

It’s Riden.

Chapter 7

HIS ARMS ARE CROSSED, one leg hooked over the other.

I suppose I should run now to make it look like I’m trying to escape, but why bother?

“How much of that did you see?” I ask instead.

“All of it.”

I’m not sure what I should feel after hearing that. Anger that he’d let Sheck try to take me. Confusion that he let me kill him without helping his crewman. Worry that he saw the acting routine I tried on Kearan. Does he know I’m trying to get caught? There’s no way to tell. His face reveals nothing in the lit street.

I need to do something. I can’t just stand here and let him take me. It’s inconsistent with the character I’ve been playing for him. So I reach over and pick up Kearan’s cutlass again.

“You want to fight?” he asks.

“I am not going back on that ship,” I say.

“I’m sorry, Alosa, but you have to.” He pulls his own sword from its sheath.

All right. I’ll go easy on him. Let him disarm me quickly and get this night over with.

“You really want to do this?” he asks. “I was in the middle of something back there when I heard a struggle going on outside. You’ve put me in quite the mood. I wouldn’t test me.”

I snort. “I saw your lady friend. It looked like you were already in a mood.”

“One night on land after months at sea, and you have to go and ruin it.”

“And what about me? I was carrying out a very important mission for my father when you caught me. You’ve ruined my entire week. I should take an ear for that.”

“You wouldn’t take my ear. It would make it difficult for me to hear your whining. And I know how much you love that.”

Never mind. I shall not make this quick. I want to hurt him a bit first.

I lurch forward, slashing at his stomach. Riden deflects the blow and reaches for my legs with his sword. But I leap backward.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” I ask, sending a volley of strikes at him.

“Stop you from what?” He quickly defends himself against each strike, but I keep them coming as we talk.

“You saw me fighting him. You know your captain doesn’t want me mistreated in any way, yet you let him try to take me. You just stood there. And—oh.”

He gets his bearings and puts himself on the offensive. I like learning how he moves. It will let me know how to beat him. Later, of course. Tonight I have to let him win.

“You wanted me to kill him,” I say. “Of course. You hate what he does. What with you being so honorable and all. But you can’t kill him yourself because for some reason you’re loyal to your brother, and you can’t be seen killing a member of his crew. I’ll never understand this loyalty; you seem to hate everything Draxen does.”

I cut him on his arm. Riden is going a bit easy because he doesn’t actually want to hurt me. It definitely gives me the advantage. Of course, I don’t want to kill him, either—hurt him, though, yes. Part of what I told him the other day is true. I don’t want Riden dead, because he is my preferred choice for an interrogator. Draxen would assign someone even worse to watch me if Riden weren’t an option.