“I can’t stand to be near you for many reasons.”
They go on like that, lashing out at each other. If Kearan could manage to keep up with her, I’m sure it would come to blows. Roslyn wisely shrinks back from the two of them and returns to the dancing.
“Quite a pair those two,” Niridia says, stepping up beside me.
“I’ve never seen anyone get under her skin like that,” I say.
“It’s probably a first for her. I wonder how long it will be before she realizes she fancies him back.”
I let out a guffaw. “Sorinda? Fancy Kearan? I don’t think so.”
Niridia shrugs. “He wouldn’t be so bad if he cleaned himself up a bit.”
“And stopped drinking.”
“And shaved.”
“Worked out a bit.”
“And had someone right his nose.”
We both laugh. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it.
“All right,” she concedes. “I suppose he doesn’t have a chance.” We turn to observe the dancers together, and Niridia adds, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have one more man out here to share among the girls.”
And just like that my thoughts return to the brig. To what Vordan said.
“Has Riden suffered enough?” she asks.
I want to say no. To leave him in there until we reach the keep. But that would be me being selfish because he overheard what Vordan said and not me punishing him for what he’d done. I was only going to leave him in there for the day anyway.
“You may let him out,” I say, “but warn him that if he disobeys orders again, he’ll stay in there until we reach the keep.”
“Understood.”
She watches my face for a beat longer. “Is something wrong?”
I force a smile onto my face. “It’s nothing.” And then, because I know she won’t leave it alone without an explanation, I add, “Seeing Vordan again reminded me of what he did to me on that island. That’s all. I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes fill with understanding. “Try to enjoy the celebration. Dancing always cheers you up. We could talk about it later, if you’d like.”
I nod encouragingly, and as soon as she disappears I let the smile fall from my face. I debate going straight to bed, but I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I’d much rather watch the crew having fun.
I tuck myself into a corner, crossing my legs under me while I sit atop a crate, letting the music replace the uneasiness inside me. Niridia returns with Riden in tow. Lotiya and Deshel are thankfully busy with Wallov and Deros. It’s Philoria and Bayla, two of my gunwomen, who reach him and pull him into a twirling dance.
Riden doesn’t miss a beat. You’d think he wasn’t just thrown in the brig for the day after being severely chastened in front of the whole crew. Not to mention the fact he’s only recently recovered from two bullets to the leg. Does nothing get to him? Nothing save his brother, anyway? I stare at him openly from my hiding spot, watch the way his limbs move to the music, the way he interacts with each of the crew as though they’ve been lifelong friends. It’s almost as if he has enchanting powers of his own.
Golden-brown eyes flit to me, as though he knew I was sitting here the whole time watching. At the next break in between songs, Riden saunters over. I tense, hoping Lotiya and Deshel will spot him leaving and capture him for once.
But no, he reaches me without anyone getting in his way and sits on the crate beside me.
I wait for him to say something. To try to convince me of Vordan’s words. Has Riden not attempted to tell me since we first met that my father is corrupt and controlling? I’ll bet he smiled at all of Vordan’s words, pleased to have someone else confirming them. What had he called me when I told him he was ridiculous for being loyal to his despicable brother?
A hypocrite.
“You keep interesting company,” he says.
My mind scrambles as it tries to tie the words to what happened down in the brig with Vordan. “What?” I ask.
“Those sisters.”
I follow his line of sight to where Lotiya and Deshel are eyeing him. They take a break from their clapping hands and stomping feet so Lotiya can blow him a kiss while Deshel waves her fingers at him.
Riden shudders uncomfortably.
They’re both very beautiful girls. I’m surprised at his reaction.
“They act like a couple of…” He trails off.
“Whores?” I finish for him. “That’s because they were. At far too young an age, they were forced into that life. I broke them out when I witnessed them fighting off a couple of men who tried to take their services for free after hours. They’re good with knives,” I add in warning.
“I wasn’t going to say whores.”
“No?” I ask, relieved to be talking about a neutral topic. “What were you going to say?”
“I honestly don’t have words to describe them.”
That prompts a little defensiveness in me. I’m glad to feel something different from the uneasiness that hasn’t left me all day. “If this arrangement is going to work, you’re going to need to remember that we’re not only women, we’re pirates.”
I remember the comments the sisters made earlier about wanting to see Riden naked. I add, “You wouldn’t give a second thought to a couple of men aboard your ship behaving in such a way or talking such talk. You do not get to judge us more harshly for being women. It’s not fair, and it doesn’t make sense. Not to mention I’ll throw your arse overboard if I catch you doing it again.”
Amusement lights up his face, but I push on as determined as ever. “I have twenty-eight excellent girls aboard this ship, and their pasts have shaped them. Just as yours has shaped you. And every single one of them, down to little Roslyn, deserves your respect.”
Riden watches me for a few more moments before looking on at the dancers. “I admire your love for your crew, Alosa, but you don’t need to defend them to me. I make no judgments because they’re women rather than men. I was surprised, is all. I apologize.”
I ignore his apology, yet also warm at it. I’m accustomed to defending my girls. To my father. To the men on his council. To other pirates. Women don’t belong on the sea in their eyes.
But Riden is apologizing.
I don’t know how to handle that.
“And I apologize for disobeying orders before,” he says. “I won’t go below again when you’re replenishing your abilities.”
“Good.”
“They’re … kind of terrifying.”
I’m not sure whether to bristle or be amused by that.
“Alosa?” Riden asks.
I brace again for the mention of what Vordan said.
“I never did thank you for giving me and Draxen a chance. We would have been dead if you hadn’t stepped in with your father. Thank you.”
When I don’t answer, he asks, “Why did you do it?”
And there’s the other thing I’m not thinking about. Why I bother sticking my neck out for Riden and his worthless brother.
I dare to look at him. “I don’t know.”
He smiles then, a beautiful stretch of his lips—as though he has his own thoughts on why I might have done it.
I turn away to avoid staring at his mouth and listen to Haeli strike up a new song.