I wait silently. The embodiment of patience and tolerance.

Riden looks as though he’s about to fall over: He’s craning his neck so far, trying to make sense of what’s in front of him.

Draxen’s the captain, though. He has to set an example for the others, has to force himself to come to his senses more quickly. The man has a reputation to make, being the new and young captain that he is. Draxen is definitely the hardest mark on the ship.

Were we alone, he’d probably be on me within five minutes. It’s amazing the things people will do in secret, when others can’t see their actions. That’ll be the trick: getting him alone. And especially away from ever-perceptive little brother, Riden.

“For stars’ sake, someone hand her a mop,” Draxen says.

There are five men already at the deck, swabbing it with mops. The nearest pirate eagerly jumps forward and hands over his.

“Thank you,” I say as I delicately touch the wooden handle with my fingertips.

Every seaman finds himself swabbing the deck at some point. The task is one that must be done frequently to keep salt and excess water from building up. Never did care for it myself, but I can’t let that show now.

I start my task, moving the mop in smooth movements. I bend over farther at particularly tricky spots. Everything I do has a purpose. I’m aware of each movement I make and Draxen’s reaction to it. When fancy strikes, a man gets this notion in his mind that everything a woman does is for him. Right now this is true for Draxen. Though he tries to hide it, I know he watches me. He can’t make sense of the change, but he doesn’t think me that intelligent to begin with. And now his desire is growing, burning redder and redder.

“What are you doing?”

I’m pulled from Draxen’s emotions as Riden speaks. “Swabbing the deck.”

“No, not that. You’re being different.”

“Different how? Could you move over please? I need to get that spot.”

“See, now, that is exactly how you’re being different. Since when do you say ‘please’? And why are you moving like that? You look ridiculous.”

“You’re free to think as you like,” I say delicately, like it’s a compliment.

“Stop,” he says, dragging out the word.

“You don’t wish me to mop anymore?”

“I’m talking about your behavior. Cut it out. It’s … it’s … wrong.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“You’re attracting the wrong kind of attention on this ship, lass. It’s going to get you into trouble.”

“And what would be the right kind of attention? Yours, perhaps?” I can’t help but egg him on when he’s like this. Besides, I can still sense Draxen from behind me. I take a quick peek and see that a little green is weaving into his colors. Good. Draxen doesn’t like me talking to Riden.

“I didn’t mean—” Riden begins.

“Didn’t you, though?” I home in on him now. Focusing on his wants and needs. I can see into the deepest desires of his heart. “You long for happiness, Riden, but you don’t have the courage to go find it. You are strong and courageous in many ways, but when it comes to taking care of yourself, you’re weak.”

“Alosa,” Riden says, lowering his voice. His expression has turned to one of earnestness, and I can feel that he means whatever he’s about to say. “I’m sorry for what happened between us before—if that upset you. You don’t need to retaliate by doing this.”

“You think this is all for your benefit, Riden? How wrongfully conceited you are. It’s exhausting to fight all the time. I’m done with it.”

“Alosa, please. Can’t you see what you’re—”

“Riden!” It’s Draxen calling out.

Riden exhales slowly. Perhaps he can read his brother without any special abilities. “Aye, Captain?”

“Bring the girl up here.”

Riden doesn’t answer. He’s looking at me. I’m still focused on him. His colors are split. He’s torn between the loyalty he has toward his brother and what he feels for me. Two entirely different swirls of red—the hardest color to decipher. With most pirates, I can safely assume it’s lust. But it’s not the right shade for what Riden feels toward his brother. Or me.

Frustration is probably what it is.

“Riden!” the captain calls again.

“Coming, Drax.” To me, he says, “Here we go. Leave those behind.” He points to the mop and bucket.

I oblige. Riden holds out an arm, indicating that he wants me to go first. At least he’s not going to perform that dreadful upper-arm grasping bit that he is so fond of.

As we pass through the throng of working men, I spot Enwen, who is shaking his head and smiling. He’s impressed. Just as I admired his thieving abilities, he is admiring my own skills. Though I cannot read his mind, I can easily tell that he sees right through me. He may not know exactly what I’m doing, but he knows a fellow actor when he sees one.

It’s a quick walk along the starboard side of the ship and up the companionway. We stop at the aftercastle, near the helm.

“That’ll be all, Riden.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“But she might—”

“I’m quite capable of handling myself.”

“Of course.” Riden descends the stairs again. He takes position at the other end of the ship, on the forecastle, where he can survey all the men and keep them in line. I note that he also has a clear view of us up here. Even from this distance I can read his colors. He’s black with a little green. Black is fear. Why should Riden be afraid?

“You are relieved, Kearan,” Draxen says. “Go fill yourself with drink.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Just keep her due northeast, Captain.”

Draxen takes the helm while Kearan leaves, giving me a bored nod as he swaggers on by. That leaves us alone on the upper deck. Of course we’re in view of most of the pirates. But they’re not able to hear anything that might be said. And I can tell that Draxen wishes to talk. Peculiar, that.

“Have you directed a ship before?” he asks.

“No,” I lie. It’s the answer he wants to hear. He’s a fool for believing it. I’m the pirate king’s daughter. Of course I've directed a ship.