By Megan Arkenberg
I wasn’t liking the look of her—that smoky dark skin, those full hard lips, those big eyes as bright and hot as coals—but she was a lady, and the gents and me, we know how to treat ladies.
“Name’s Sham,” I said, and I even let her shake my hand, which I generally don’t on account of some broken fingers that never healed right. I had Crow and Anny Pryce to thank for that, just like I did for a lot of things. “Short for Shamrock,” I added, “in case you’re wondering.” I knew she was, of course, but it’d be rude to make a lady admit it.
She nodded, with a little smile that said I wasn’t making her feel any better but thanks for trying. “You can call me Golden,” she said. “Is your ship for hire, Miss Sham?”
First of all, I ain’t “miss” nobody, and second, the Ruby Prince ain’t mine strictly speaking. But I was taking the lady’s name for a good omen and figured Captain Cat would do the same. “She sure is, Miss Golden. Where do you want to take her?”
She glanced at the dock over her shoulder. There wasn’t nobody there I’d be worried about, just two old fishermen hauling in their catch and a pretty whore hauling hers, but Golden was twitching like a mouse in a cat’s shadow. “Can I come on board?”
“What, you being followed?”
“Something like that.”
I called over my shoulder to Cook’s hand, a scrawny little kid we all called Cornflower on account of his eyes. “Hey, fling me a ladder for the lady on the dock!”
It took a little while—sometimes I think Cornflower’s missing a knot or two in his rigging—but finally we got Golden up on deck and all the gents, including Captain Cat, gathered ‘round for hearing.
“So what’s the trouble, Miss Golden?” Cat asked. His birthing name is Thomas, but we called him Tomcat ‘cause he’s always on the prowl. He can be intimidating—over six feet tall, with wild red hair and eyes to match—but he was being real careful with Golden. Probably figured she was spooked enough already.
Golden looked down at her feet. Apparently she’d decided to get all the mud out in one spit, because her words came in a rush. “I was Duke Desmond of Glasshill’s lover, up until two weeks ago.”
“What happened two weeks ago?”
“He died.”
I looked at Cat; his eyebrows were raised almost to the hem of his head-scarf. Golden blushed and spilled the rest even faster. “He was murdered. His nephew strangled him in his own bed and poisoned all five of his daughters.”
“Sounds like his nephew wants to be Duke,” Fairweather said. He may have a lucky name, but he’s also got a maddening habit of stating the obvious. “What’s this got to do with you?”
“I’m pregnant with Desmond’s child.”
Cat’s response was exactly what you’d expect from a man who calls himself a Perfect Gentleman of Fortune; he pulled up a crate for her to sit on and sent Cornflower to grab a bottle of rum.
“Let me guess,” I said as Golden tentatively licked the mouth of the bottle. Back in Coldcliff, where I’d grown up, Anny Pryce was Queen of the Sea and she’d taught us how politics worked themselves out. “Desmond’s little ass of a nephew is trying to kill the baby.”
Golden nodded. “I need to get away. There’s a hiding place I know of, but it’ll take a skilled crew to get there.”
“And you can’t hire a straight ship because…?”
She blushed again. “I’m dead broke.”
Silence landed lead-heavy on the deck. Fairweather’s thin lips twisted like he had something nippy to say, but old Mayborn shut him up with a glare.
It looked for a moment like nobody was going to talk. I drew myself up, big as I could muster, before somebody whipped out a knife. “We ain’t taking on charity cases, Miss Golden.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t pay.” She set the rum down hard on the deck by her knee. “That hiding place I’m headed to, it’s the best you’ll ever find. Unapproachable without a guide, and damn hard to reach even then. Straight ships wouldn’t have any business with it, but for you gentlemen…” She looked up at Cat, her face set as stone. “I’m willing to share.”
The silence came back, only now it was like a pot about to boil; smooth on the surface, bubbling underneath. The gents and me looked at each other, we all looked at Cat, and Cat looked like he’d just been served a brimming bowl of cream.
“Miss Golden,” he said, bowing over her hand like she was Anny Pryce herself, “you have yourself a deal.”
We hadn’t been planning to leave Flintfield for another week or so, but Golden was sure as anything that she had the Duke’s dogs on her tail and we needed to sail now. So I spent what was left of the day helping Mayborn mend the flying jib and tying down Cook’s barrels with Cornflower and generally getting the Prince ready to jump. That ain’t my usual job, of course—Cat signed me on as a cannon-master—but we needed all the hands we could get, wherever we could get ‘em. Figured we wouldn’t need the cannons on this jaunt, anyway.
Sometimes, I’m stupid as a ball of wet twine.
I was rubbing the knot-cramps out of my crooked knuckles, ready for a hot dinner and the gentle swing of my hammock, when Cat leapt down on the deck next to me and pointed at something on the docks.
“See that?”
I rolled my eyes. It was new-moon dark, and my sight ain’t nearly as sharp as Cat’s in the best of times. “What’re you looking at?”
“That monster down at the edge of the docks. Look at her. She’s like a mountain, and that’s just what we can see above the water.”
“Hush, you.” I hit him across the shoulder. “She’s a galleon, that’s all. ‘Sides, what’re you worried about? You plan on taking her?”
“I’m afraid she might plan on taking us.” Cat folded his arms on the rail and leaned out, the sea-wind blowing his hair across his face like ribbons of blood. I didn’t like the way his eyes looked. “Sham, that’s Crow’s ship. And where Crow is, you know Anny Pryce is close behind.”
“Damn.” I knew it was just my imagination, but my hands seemed to ache worse just knowing Crow was nearby. “You think she’s still out for me?”
“That’s the same as asking if I think she’s still breathing. Anny Pryce don’t quit, not ‘til she’s got your skull as a hat-stand.”
“Thanks for that lovely picture,” I said. And all at once I felt like a length of rope someone’s stretched too far to tie. My stomach was doing fancy little flips, and my knees were nothing but water. “Crow knows I’m on the Prince, Cat. He saw you pull me out of the water last time.”
Cat pressed his hand against the small of my back, warm and steady. “They won’t get you again, Shamrock. I won’t let them.”
I shook my head. There’s no “let” when you’re dealing with Anny Pryce.
“Anyway.” Cat lifted his hand away and rolled his shoulders. “Just thought you should see. We’ll be out by sun-up. They won’t even know we were here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I ain’t worried.”
But all that night I dreamed of Anny Pryce and her lead chains, and I woke up with my hands aching like blue-hot fire.
Like Cat promised, we were gone before sun-up, and Flintfield was just a brown smudge on the horizon when Golden finally crawled out of her cabin, walked up to the railing, and emptied her gut into the sea.
“Not liking the waves?” I asked. Making conversation with a sea-sick lady ain’t exactly good manners, but it’s not like I could ignore her when she was fluttering around in front of me.
Golden didn’t seem to mind, anyway. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand—and it looked strange, her face all apple-green and her palm pale as clover honey—and gave me a watery smile. “The baby’s not liking the waves,” she said. “Or mornings, for that matter.”
I laughed a little. I knew how that worked. “Yeah. My sister had five sons. She carried easy, but...mornings.”
Golden’s big eyes narrowed. Then she shook herself like a dog. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard for me to picture you with...I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t your fault.” I clapped her on the shoulder, like she was one of the gents. “So how far along are you? You ain’t showing yet.”
And so we spent most of the morning talking about babies and growing bellies and letting out shirt hems, and then she ran some baby names by me that all sounded slimy and pretentious, though I didn’t say so to her face. I knew Cat would laugh himself sick if I told him, but it was nice to have a lady on board, even one who looked so pretty it was sinister. I love the gents, but they ain’t learned to make conversation—and especially not about babies.
Around noon, Cat sent me up to the ‘nest with a spyglass and told me to look to the north. Now, Flintfield was straight west of us, and I figured if Crow was following, he’d be coming from that direction. There’s nothing big north of Flintfield, nothing but Coldcliff, and if we had Crow and Anny Pryce on us at once, I was going to throw myself overboard now and save us all the trouble.
Then I saw the ship Cat was thinking about—little thing with a single mast—not Anny Pryce, not unless she’d gotten in some serious trouble since we last met, and I knew I wasn’t that lucky. Which meant this ship wasn’t chasing us.
Or if it was chasing us, it wasn’t because of me.
“Fairweather!” I called. He scrambled and met me halfway down the ‘nest ladder. “Where’s Glasshill, anyway?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say for certain. Why?”
“If it’s anywhere north of here, I think Desmond’s nephew is on our tail.”
Fairweather squinted in the direction of the tiny ship. “That little thing? Ain’t a match for the Prince. In fact...” He took the spyglass from me and held it up to my eye, nearly tipping us off the ladder in the process. “She’s not even headed for us. Either he don’t know how to set his sails, or he’s going west on purpose.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good.”
And if Fairweather believed me, he was even dumber than I give him credit for.
“Cat,” I said that night, “I think the Duke’s nephew is matching up with Crow.”
We were alone by the wheel, each of us with a hand on it, though our course was straight through until dawn. Cat was looking up at the sky above us like a diamond-studded scarf, and I couldn’t see his expression.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “that makes a lot of sense. If that dinghy we saw today really belongs to the Duke, it’d be good for him to catch up with someone who knows the seas—someone who knows how to hunt.”
“Someone like Crow.” I rolled my shoulders, but it didn’t make me any less tense. “I know I should be glad it’s not me he’s after, but somehow, I can’t get up the gumption.” I glanced at Cat out of the corner of my eye, but his face was still turned away from me. “What’d Golden tell you about her hiding place?”
“Nothin’ more than how to get there. And that it takes a skilled crew.”
“Crow’s sure got one of those. Cat?” Finally, he looked at me. I swallowed hard. “You still so sure you ain’t gonna let him catch me?”
“I’m sure.” He nibbled his bottom lip, looked back up at the stars. “Besides, Sham, you killed Anny’s best lieutenant once before. What makes you think you ain’t able to do it again?”
So that night, I dreamed about Dragonfly.
People don’t believe me when I say she made Crow look like a kitten, but it’s true. In the beginning, Anny Pryce just kept Crow around for his pretty face; but Dragonfly started and ended as a weapon. She was tall and skinny and pale, not gray-white like Anny but a pale that was almost blue, and when she was a kid her daddy beat her and that’s why her face never moved right. And she was scary. When you saw the bodies of the people Dragonfly killed, you weren’t always sure they’d been people.
All that would have been fine, but around the time I turned seventeen—a year or two after I joined up with Cat—Dragonfly decided to go after my sister.
I still don’t know why. Maybe Moirrey had done something to cross Anny Pryce, or maybe Dragonfly was just in a mood. I just know what Dragonfly did to my sister, and if I told you, it’d take me all day and then some. I got sick when I first heard about it, and then I got mad. Real mad, the kind of mad you have to wake up from.
And I didn’t wake up from it, not ‘til I left a bag on Anny Pryce’s doorstep with Dragonfly’s head in it.
That’s the reason Anny hates me, the reason she and Crow picked me up in a Crossgallow tavern and dragged me onto her ship so she could break all my fingers and burn her sign on my shoulder and throw me overboard to drown. You think that’d be enough to give a body nightmares, and you’d be right.
But my dream, it was worse than that, because Dragonfly was there chasing me along with Crow and Anny and the Duke’s nephew, and Dragonfly was angrier than all the others because I’d killed her, and she wasn’t afraid of nothing because she was already dead. I woke up before she caught me, and I was so damn grateful I cried until dawn.
Days passed—slowly, the way they do when you’re out at sea with no clear idea of where you’re going and a damn clear idea of what’s coming behind you.
Golden wasn’t giving the location of her hiding spot to no one but Cat, and his orders seemed designed to mess over any of the crew who was trying to guess where we were headed. That was fine by me; I just wanted to get Golden safe and have done with it. Every time I looked, there were sails on the horizon behind us, and I wouldn’t’ve placed a bet on whether they were the Duke’s or Crow’s.
But I’ll tell you something else that was shocking the smoke out of me; I was getting fond of Golden. Don’t get me wrong, she was still too pretty by half. But there was brains beneath that beauty, and she knew something about making quick in a conversation.
Only problem with getting fond of people—that’s when you start worrying about them. Soon, it wasn’t just the thought of Crow that was keeping me up nights.
“What’re you going to do if we get caught?” I asked Cat one morning. We had been working the wheel all night, and our faces matched the grayish-green of the eastern sky.
Cat gave me the most dashing smile he could manage. “We ain’t going to get caught.”
“Save the bragging for your whores.”
He sighed, leaned forward and rested his chin on the rail. “How’s our cannon compared to Crow’s?”
It had been years since I was up close and personal with Crow’s ship, but there’s some things that stick in your memory like tar. “They’ll make matchwood out of us before we reach the stations.”
“Then we hand the lady over to the Duke-ling.”
“Cat!”
He rolled his eyes up at me. “You got a better suggestion?”
“No.” I swallowed hard. “Just don’t get us caught, sweetheart.”
Two days later, Fairweather jumped down from the ‘nest with a look on his face like he’d seen his dead grandmother. “Captain!” he shouted. “Up ahead!”
So of course the whole crew dropped whatever they were doing and scrambled for the bow, even Golden, though she didn’t scramble often on account of her seasickness. There were rocks up ahead, big and jagged and black, crinkled and shiny like burnt sugar. But it wasn’t the rocks Fairweather was leaping crazy over; it was the whirlpool next to them.
We all stood still and silent for a moment. Then Golden let out a sigh like a gust of wind.
“Thank goodness!” she said. “Captain, it’s a straight throw now.”
“Straight between the Devil and the deep blue sea.” Cat whistled through his teeth. “You don’t lie when you call that the best hiding place we’ll ever find.”
“But you can do it?” It wasn’t Golden who asked, but Cornflower, his bright eyes round as a pair of coins.
“Of course I can do it.” Cat ruffled his hair absently. “Let’s just hope our pursuit doesn’t catch up to us before we get through.”
And I tell you, that man should get a job with an acting troupe, ‘cause his sense of timing is just peachy wonderful.
I said a word my aunties would’ve washed my mouth out with lye for, and when that didn’t take, I added some things about Crow’s mother and a rabid cow. His ship was bloody huge, and it had come out of nowhere, right up on our tail. Golden took one look at it and fainted right into Cornflower’s scrawny arms.
The short, crooked man on Crow’s deck must have been the Duke’s nephew. He had that look, like Power’s second cousin, and a griminess about him like a kid reaching for someone else’s toy. Crow was there, too, tall and dark and lovely, his black hair loose and whipping in the wind.
The woman—slight, white-haired, her long fingers curled on Crow’s shoulder—was Anny Pryce.
“Cannons!” Cat shouted, but none of the crew moved. It was far too late for shooting things.
“Good morning, Captain!” Crow called, leaning over the railing like a lady waving farewell to her sailor. “Good thing we got to you before you disappeared into that lovely clump of rocks up ahead. Our dear friend the Duke would be so disappointed.”
“You’re an ass, Crow,” I retorted. Cat flung out his arm to hold me back, but I ducked under and ran for the rail. The ships were close together, a lot closer than I think either Cat or Crow wanted to be, but Anny Pryce didn’t believe in personal space. Suited me fine, too. “When’d you take to running the Duke of Glasshill’s errands?”
“When we found out he was headed the same way we were.” Crow’s eyes twinkled like spilled oil. “For different reasons, of course.”
Golden was coming to, moaning like a gale wind. The Duke, who until now had been looking slavishly from Crow to Anny Pryce, turned his beady little eyes over to the Ruby Prince. “There she is!” he shrieked. “Make them hand her over and let’s get out of here.”
“Calm yourself,” Anny Pryce said.
If you ain’t heard Anny Pryce’s voice, I ain’t sure I can describe it for you so you understand. Some voices are cold, but Anny’s is just frigid. It turns steel brittle.
“As you can see, our dear friend the Duke judged it wise to abandon his ship for ours,” she said. “We are not running his errands at all, girl. Consider him a hound on a scent—or a decoy.”
I reckon the Duke and I were feeling about the same at that moment.
“We’d love for you to hand over Miss…Golden, is it?” Anny Pryce sneered, her mouth straight and flat as a blade. “But I’ll settle for only you, Shamrock.”
“No!” Cat shouted, and it was my turn to hold him back. I caught him, one hand on each of his shoulders, and stood between him and Anny.
“I told you, Cat, they’ll make matchwood of us if we don’t cooperate.” He stilled some, but there was still murder in his eyes. “You’re getting paid to get Golden to safety. Let them have me, and you can make it through the pass. Crow’s ship is too big for them to follow.”
Cat shrugged my hands off. “Listen to yourself, Sham! I said I won’t hand you over to Anny Pryce, and I meant it.”
“Maybe I ain’t yours to hand over.”
The color drained out of his face so fast, I thought I’d see it collecting in a stain around his collar. He took a tottering step back and passed a hand across his forehead. “I…damn, Shamrock, that’s not what I meant.”
“I know it ain’t.” I looked over my shoulder at Golden. She was slouched between Cornflower and Mayborn, looking sick and lost and determined all at the same time. Real lady, she was. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back to Cat. “Take care of her, okay?”
“Shamrock!”
I grabbed a grappling line from the stack and flung it across to Anny Pryce.
Cat might’ve made a grab for me as I started to climb over—he can be an idiot sometimes, it sounds like something he’d do—but if so, the crew held him back. I dropped onto Crow’s deck half an eternity later and held out my hands for Anny to tie together.
“Nice fingers,” she said, flat as a paving stone.
I spat in her face, and Crow came up behind me, and there was a splitting pain in my head as everything went dark.
I woke up in the brig, which was no surprise, but I hadn’t expected the Duke to be keeping me company, trussed up in the corner like an autumn pig. Guess that’s a lesson about working with Anny Pryce; she ain’t for hire, even if you think she is.
My hands were tied behind my back, and someone—Crow, I’d bet, though it was probably Anny’s idea—had woven the rope between my fingers, straining the joints so hard I thought they’d break again. Real carefully, I twisted to my feet like a cat and pressed my eye against a crack in the wooden wall. No good; Crow’s brig was below the water line, and all I got was an eyeful of pitch. So I couldn’t know for sure, but I hoped real hard that Cat had taken Golden through to her hiding place and forgotten about me, like he was supposed to.
The Duke squeaked something around the dirty rag in his mouth. I kicked at him half-heartedly and plopped down with my back to the wall. “Shut up,” I said. “Greedy, murdering slime ain’t my idea of a good roommate, neither.”
He screwed up his forehead like he thought looking at me ugly would light me on fire.
Then the sound of footsteps came from behind the door, sharp and light and even. I sat up straight. Someone fumbled with the rusty lock, and the door swung in with a slow, screechy creak. Anny Pryce stood on the other side, smiling like Death at a duelists’ society.
Up close, her face looked like a mask someone had stored in a dusty place for too long. Her mouth was dry and pale, and her eyes looked brittle. Back in Coldcliff people used to say that Anny Pryce was a handsome woman, but I can’t figure out how they managed to tell. All I could see was the dryness.
“So you traded yourself for the girl,” she said, sneering from me to the Duke and back again. “How...noble.”
“Actually, you traded the girl for me. Went back on your word.” I tilted my head, like I was considering. “Not very noble, but what should he’ve expected from your kind?”
Anny raised a single eyebrow. One of the only people I know of who can manage that expression without looking addled. “My kind?”
“Lying dogs who can’t do their own dirty work.”
Her slap came like a whip crack across my cheek. “Rest assured,” she said, dragging me to my feet, “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
Crow came out of the shadows behind her like a ghost. He took me by the shoulders, and Anny led us out and up into the cool salty night.
The deck was lit up with little glass-paned lamps hung in the rigging. They threw their light over the water, all the way to the shiny clump of rocks that guarded Golden’s hiding place—the shiny clump of rocks that was slipping farther away from us with each passing second. I prayed miserably that Cat wasn’t going to try anything stupid.
It took me a moment to notice Crow’s crew standing in a circle around us, drooling like dogs handed a plate of meat. Whatever Anny had planned for me, it was something special.
“Evening, boys,” she said. I gave her a funny look, ‘cause that’s the first time I heard a captain call her gents boys. It just ain’t done. And it was damn clear she was mocking them, twisting her words around in her mouth like a harbormaster. “I don’t suppose you all remember Shamrock?”
There were a few jeers, but not a whole lot. “I’m the one who killed Dragonfly,” I said, to help them out a little. Everything in my gut felt like soured milk. I knew I was going to die; it couldn’t hurt to make sure everyone knew why.
Crow gave me a shake and cut the rope from around my fingers. I rubbed my hands together and looked up at Anny Pryce. I was expecting her to have a hanging rope out, or a gun at least, but she wasn’t holding anything. Was she just going to throw me overboard again?
Then she held her hand out to one of the men, and he gave her a knife.
“You remember what Dragonfly did to Moirrey,” she said. It wasn’t a question, not even close, and it wasn’t meant for anybody but me to hear. “You remember how they found her clothes in bloody shreds around the bedroom. You remember how the blood soaked into the plaster walls—that whole part of the house needed to be burned down. You remember that the biggest piece of her your mother found...” She held up her free hand and lowered the fingers, one by one, until only the smallest was left standing. “Don’t you, Shamrock?”
“You’re a bloody coward, Anny Pryce.” I spat in her face again, and this time Crow didn’t do anything to stop me. Anny just smiled and wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “You ain’t got the guts to do any of that yourself, so you take credit for what your trained dogs do. I ain’t afraid of you.”
That last part was mostly a lie, of course. Mostly.
‘Cause I had gotten away from Anny Pryce once before, and I had killed Dragonfly.
“You, now, Miss Queen-of-the-Sea,” I said, “you’re terrified of me. You’re scared like a kid in the dark.”
The crew laughed, as I expected they would—but not Anny. Her face went slack, like a sail with no wind.
“‘Cause anything Dragonfly did, well, I can do better than that. I killed Dragonfly. Scary as she was, she’s dead now, and it’s all because of me. You can give orders real nice, and maybe if you try hard enough you can break a girl’s fingers...” I wiggled my own hand, just like she’d raised hers. “But you’re nowhere near me, Anny Pryce, and you know it.”
She jumped at me, knife raised, about the same time Crow made a grab at me from behind. I dropped to the deck and rolled out from under them. Of course the crew wasn’t just going to take that, and I was kicking for all I was worth, trying to keep their hands off of me. There was just one way for me to get out of here, I realized, and that was in the dark.
I grabbed a fistful of rigging and started climbing. The first lamp broke with just a jab of my elbow, and the second landed on the deck in a spray of glass and fire. Someone got his hand around my ankle before I had the third all the way loose, and suddenly I was on the deck myself, tilting my head crazily to avoid the burning oil.
Anny pressed her knee into my chest, driving the breath out of me. She pressed the knife deep against my cheek.
“Where did you think you were going, Shamrock?” Her voice was dry and breathless. “You’re caught, girl. There’s nothing here but the water and me.”
“Between the Devil and the deep blue sea,” I muttered.
And the third lamp snapped its rope.
I was hoping it would knock Anny Pryce insensible, and though I wasn’t that lucky, she must’ve had a lump the size of a rook egg on her head the next morning. I didn’t stick around to see. As soon as the pressure from her knee let up I rolled out from under her, dodged past Crow, and dove into the sea.
The water sprayed up icy and dark around my face. I moved my legs like I was walking up a steep hill and managed to keep my head above the surface. And it turned out to be a good thing I hadn’t put all the lamps out, because a little sparkle of light still got out across the water and glistened on the rocks by Golden’s hiding place.
I dove under the next few waves, until I got out to where the water was too dark for Crow’s crew to see me clear. I ain’t a great swimmer, but I’m better than most, and I had the threat of Anny Pryce to keep me moving. I closed my eyes, stretched my arms and kicked as hard as I could.
And didn’t stop kicking ‘til I heard the splash of oars by my head.
“Sham!” Warm hands reached down and closed around my shoulders. I pried my eyes open, sputtering and blinking through the salty water. Cat’s face was pale as sailcloth as he lifted me up into the dinghy.
“Sham, you all right?”
He lay me on the floor of the boat, resting my head against his knees. I coughed until I could get words out. “We’ve got to keep meeting like this, Cat.”
“I thought I lost you.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” I sat up, looked around the little boat. We were halfway between the sharp shiny rocks and the silent spinning of the whirlpool. If the dinghy were any bigger, I wouldn’t’ve liked our chances. But Cat’s hands were steady on the oars, and I knew I could trust him.
“What were you gonna do?” I asked, flat as I could. “Take on Crow in this mangy thing?”
He looked at me hard. And then his face broke with laughter, and I knew everything was going to be just fine.