The Sea Stared Back
the captain’s voice rang from the quarterdeck.
“There is no Aurelia Danby on this ship,” he said as the Destiny’s Revenge rushed away from Port Royal. “The French chase a ghost. But had she been here”—his lips curved—“she might’ve been left to the whims of Port Royal.”
It had been nearly two months since Aurelia joined their number. Most had hardly noticed her arrival and never assumed she was anyone other than Rebecca Rowe—they wouldn’t care if she was. And now, Copson had made sure they wouldn’t look her way if anyone suggested he had Aurelia Danby in his possession.
Over the next few hours, the crew disposed of the dead and dying. They pitched bodies into the sea and scrubbed the deck to relieve it of blood. When it was done, some followed Offley to repair the holes left by cannonballs blasted into the ship, and many went to bed. No one grumbled about leaving Port Royal, but if they did, Aurelia heard none of it.
She was one of the few who remained on the main deck, her body pitched over the rail as she coughed up what little was in her stomach under a dazzling night sky. Ralph stood behind her, holding her hair and rubbing her back.
“This happened to me after my first kill,” he said.
She sank to her knees and pressed her cheek to the cool rail, praying for the memory of that first dead man—and the way she’d felt standing over him—to fade. Even though the ships were no longer moving, she savored the chill breeze on her face.
Ralph lowered his face beside hers. “I’m so sorry. I should have insisted you go below deck during the battle.”
“Don’t you dare,” she rasped. “I chose to stay. I don’t want to be a princess.” Her stomach turned. “Would you please get out of my wind?”
“Sorry,” he said again, straightening to let the air brush her skin.
He still looked apologetic, so before he could continue on about how he thought she shouldn’t do what she wanted, she said, “I’d like to get better at swearing. Perhaps if I did, they’d have believed me sooner, and I wouldn’t have had to kill them.” Not likely, but perhaps it would placate Ralph.
“You needn’t bother,” he said. He didn’t say it was unladylike, but she could tell from the look in his eye that he was thinking it. In response, she stuck out her tongue. He laughed, then his gaze moved beyond her.
“Tea,” said a new voice—William’s. “For the nausea.”
Ralph reached past her, then handed her a mug.
The scent of lemon and ginger floated to her on a tendril of steam, and she drew in a long, comforting sip that soothed her stomach while the brothers stood by. They stood alike, their feet shoulder width apart and their arms folded. She gripped the warm mug and studied them.
“What?” Ralph said.
She cracked a smile. “You both look so severe.”
Ralph relaxed his arms to his sides, looking sheepish, but William didn’t bother. She could still hear the way he’d shouted her name over the deck, and how it had spurred her to remember who she wanted to be—who she was.
“Thank you for the loan,” she said, nodding to where his guns hid beneath his coat. “Your peace of mind paid off.”
He smirked. “It usually does.”
The door to the lower decks opened, and Lavinia emerged, strolling toward them. William looked at her over his shoulder and warned, “There’s blood.”
She stopped several yards away.
Aurelia glanced between them. “Where?”
“Your arm,” William said.
Sure enough, there was blood splattered over her sleeve. She prodded her flesh and hissed as pain lanced through her bicep.
“Shit,” she said, but the word sounded as pithy and weak as if she were dressed in yards of chiffon and crusted with jewels. She looked at Lavinia who’d taken a step back, and pressed her hand over the wound. “Trouble with blood?”
Lavinia shook her head. “I blow holes in ships, not people. S’why I like being below deck while you all slaughter folks up here.”
“A fine job today, by the way,” William said to her.
“Of course it was. I’d say you owe me a pint, but French are usually easy targets.”
“You’re not trying to get me to buy your alcohol?” William asked with a devilish smirk. “Dear Lavi, did the cannons rattle your brain?”
Aurelia sipped her tea and, before she could stop it, imagined what it’d feel like if he called her dear. Then she remembered him saying, Don’t be jealous, love, and couldn’t tell if the jolt in her stomach was pain or happiness.
Lavinia squawked a laugh. “No more than usual—and no more than they’ve rattled yours.” She turned to Ralph. “I need your help with one of the cannons. A rope is caught, and we all want to cut it. Figured you’d probably lose your mind if we did.”
“Don’t cut the line,” he said, nearly jumping in his haste to head to the artillery deck. “I tied them very specifically…”
When they were gone, William faced Aurelia. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” She stood and raised the mug. “Thank you for the tea.”
He stepped closer and reached for her torn sleeve, lifting one side away to see her wound. “And your arm?”
“Just a scratch,” she said, savoring the brush of his fingers. “It’s not bleeding anymore.”
His hand fell away. “You should still get it mended.”
“I will,” she said. To hide the infernal redness creeping up her cheeks, she looked after where Ralph and Lavinia had gone. As she did, she was reminded of the conversation she’d overheard between the brothers the other day, and frowned. “I wish he’d court her.”
William’s brows drew together. “Who, Lavinia?”
“She clearly adores him.” She mirrored his expression. “And he likes her too, doesn’t he? They’re so often together, and… What?”
He gave her an odd look. “So you don’t—” He stopped himself, swallowed, then turned to the open ocean. “Ralph and Lavinia,” he finally said. “I could see it.”
Would he hate seeing his former flame with his brother? If he would, she saw no sign of animosity on his face—only contemplation.
“I can’t think of a single thing to say to bring him to his senses,” she said. “But then I never could.”
“I applaud you for trying. He lacks ambition, and it drives me mad. Always has.” He spun one of the rings on his fingers, the gold glinting in the lantern light. “And I must also commend you for battling as fiercely as you did, since Ralph didn’t seem inclined to compliment you as he should have.”
“It was my fight. My freedom.” She stared at the constellations diving slowly into the sea. “Though I should thank you, Captain, for summoning a whole sea monster.”
“Oh, come now,” he said with a laugh. “That’s how all these ridiculous rumors start.” As though he didn’t love them. As though he didn’t gleefully perpetuate those very rumors himself.
She anchored her hands to the rail and leaned back, hoping her next words wouldn’t make her out to be a fool. She still wasn’t sure if he’d been teasing a couple nights ago, but after today, she was inclined to believe he’d told the truth. “I think I saw her—the mermaid.”
“You did… In fact, there she is now.”
Aurelia shot forward. She might’ve mistaken the glimmer of silvery-white for moonlight on the rippling water had he not been pointing to the sparkling tail as it flashed past. A heartbeat later, a woman’s beautiful face appeared beneath the surface, her features sharp and smooth. She wore a crown of pale coral and shells atop her strawberry hair that flowed in long, gossamer waves. Below her waist, scales gleamed like mother-of-pearl.
She held a man in her arms, his dead body limp as she twirled him in a slow, macabre dance.
“I believe she’s trying to romance me,” William said. “Though she hasn’t tried this before.”
Horror knotted in the pit of her stomach, clashing spectacularly with fascination. “So you weren’t lying…” She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. “But you told me you’d never seen a mermaid.”
He lifted one shoulder. “It was true at the time.”
Now the mermaid’s pale face was the only thing visible in the blackness, the corpse gone as she stared at William. Then she slowly rose, broke the surface, and extended her arm, reaching for him.
Her hand was deathly pale, cut with fine scales and tipped with long, pearlescent fingernails. Pink hair swirled around her, and Aurelia thought the girl must be a princess for how lovely she was.
William shifted closer to Aurelia, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Shall we tease the creature?”
Then he leaned in and—ever so lightly—pressed his lips to Aurelia’s cheek. She nearly gasped and dropped her tea.
Far below, the mermaid’s elbow buckled, and for a long, heartbreaking moment, she only stared, then slowly descended until she vanished completely.
Aurelia pressed her palm over William’s kiss, trapping it against her skin. Her cheeks felt like they were glowing, but he only watched the water, smirking and completely unaffected.
She had no time to gather her wits before a small, folded square of parchment appeared between his index and middle fingers. He held it out to her, and she took it with shaking hands.
“What’s this?”
“An offer for ransom,” he said nonchalantly.
Her eyes cut to him. “A ransom—for me? To send me back?”
“One of the sailors came back with it. Say what you will about the French, but they can work quickly when they want something.”
She read the offer, which killed any butterflies left from his kiss. “This is—they’re offering you a pardon for taking me.”
“So it appears,” he said jovially. “And quite a bit of gold.”
The note trembled in her hand, and she felt sick again for an entirely different reason. It was an obscene amount of money—more than she thought she was worth, but these were kings who desired an alliance, and a prince who was surely embarrassed. “But you won’t… You said you won’t make me go back.”
“God no.” He straightened and plucked the note from her fingers. With a lazy flick of his hand, it soared away from the ship and was swallowed by the sea.
Her heart still hadn’t calmed. “Why tell me? And why not agree to it?”
“Since they’re spreading word so far and wide, I’d rather the news come from me than someone else, lest you assume I’m actually considering the offer. Of course, they’ll try to kill me first to save money and time, but in case that doesn’t work, ransom is always a pleasant second option.” He poked the worried scrunch between her eyebrows, adding, “Peace, Miss Rowe. I’m not sending you back.”
She drew in a long breath. He dropped his hand, and she banished thoughts of it holding her face or cupping her chin or his lips on her cheek.
“The French will keep pursuing you,” she said on a shaky voice. “They’ll keep pursuing me.”
“But isn’t it terribly fun to have an entire navy after you?” He winked, but sobered a little when she didn’t smile. “They won’t catch me. And they won’t take you, which you proved well enough today. Fantastic shot, by the way—I saw you put a bullet in that officer’s leg and found it hard to believe you’d never shot a gun before.”
“I had by then,” she said absently. “That was actually the second time.”
“You smiled like a madwoman.” He lowered his voice. “You smiled like I do when I’m trying to frighten people, which took me years to perfect.”
And as easy as that, she realized he’d disarmed her. Her heart was calmer—as calm as it could be while William Kingswood turned those stunning blue eyes on her.
“I’m not worried about the French,” he assured her. “I do like their ships, though, and I almost regret sinking them. I suppose one day I’ll take one.”
She didn’t doubt he found this fun—after all, he’d laughed all through the battle today. He was truly thrilled by danger, and, she supposed, so was she.
Suddenly, French ransoms didn’t seem so terrifying.
“Where are yours from?” she asked, nodding to the Fortuna Royale in the distance.
“Oh, it’s dangerous to ask me about ships,” he said. “I’ve annoyed many with my inexhaustible interest, which I’m told is rather bland.”
She leaned her elbows on the rail and rested her chin in her hand. “Tell me.”
“The Fortuna Royale is English.” His words came slow and measured, as though to not appear too eager. “It’s not the original ship, but we keep the name for the sake of legend. This one is English as well, and the Ophelia is Spanish.”
“There’s been more than one Fortuna?” She’d always assumed the Fortuna Royale had survived all these years, but now she realized the ship looked too new to be a century old.
“Several,” he said. “At least a dozen.”
“A dozen!” And to think they’d all been stolen. Four generations of Copson men had simply stolen over a dozen ships, just to make it look like one.
Strands of dark hair fell into his face as he peered down the hull. “It’s not so impressive,” he said with a reserved, almost uncomfortable smile. “Zheng Yi Sao heads a confederation with well over fifty thousand pirates. And she personally commands two dozen ships.”
Aurelia stared at him open-mouthed. She couldn’t conceive of such numbers. Could Aurelia ever be so incredible? Maybe if she stayed a pirate, she’d one day have her own fleet…
“Thankfully, she sails the Pacific,” William said. “I’d hate to find myself on her bad side.”
“Are you on her good side?”
“As far as I know. She sent me a jade pipe two years ago.”
An amazed giggle rose in her throat. “I should have demanded more letters. The longer I’m here, the more I realize you withheld.”
The tips of his ears darkened. “Tell me something you like before I bore you to tears.”
“It doesn’t bore me,” she said sincerely. “It never has.”
“Tell me your favorite story,” he said, and maybe it was a trick of the low light, but his face grew darker too.
“I don’t know if I could pick,” she said. “King Arthur has everything—knights and chivalry and romance. But I’m also partial to Robin Hood.”
“Why?”
She looked down, suddenly as sheepish as he’d been. “I don’t want to bore you either.”
“You won’t. Robin Hood is one of my favorites too.”
She liked it for the love story, but was too embarrassed to admit that. “Perhaps I like it for the very reasons I boarded your ship.” Her cheeks blazed as she realized this answer was probably no better than the alternative—she only heard herself insinuating William was Robin Hood, which undoubtedly made her Maid Marian, a likeness she’d only be too eager to occupy. To save face, she added, “Robin and his merry men had such fun terrorizing people they disliked. Who wouldn’t love a story like that? Let alone the thrill of living it.”
“Mm, it is rather thrilling, especially when there are few consequences.”
“It is,” she said with a wistful smile.
“G’night, Captain,” a pirate called, waving a lantern as he made for the door to the lower decks.
William looked over his shoulder and nodded in acknowledgment as a few others also bid him goodnight. As it quieted, she could hear the ship creaking, the slight breeze spiraling past the lowered sails, and a faint thud followed by scratching.
William cleared his throat. “I should turn in too. We’re off bright and early, wind permitting.”
“Sleep well,” she said, trying not to let disappointment color her words.
He hesitated, his blue eyes dark in the night, before he nodded his farewell and headed for his quarters. “Take care of that cut,” he said. At his doors, he paused, then added, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The door shut quietly, and she exhaled.
The moon rose higher, lighting the waves with bands of silver. The few remaining voices nearby eventually quieted as sailors tiptoed to bed, careful not to disturb the captain in his cabin.
Despite the heaviness in her limbs, Aurelia didn’t follow them. Instead, her mind raced through the day, gathering every detail and cherishing each one before setting them, polished and perfect, in the bank of her memory.
William asking to join her in Port Royal and telling her she should have written. His laughter as she damned their mutual acquaintances. She touched her neck as she remembered hiding in the alleyway, his warm breath against her skin. And then there were the pirate kings, who’d liked her and gifted her a dagger, which she now wore at her hip, opposite her sword. A battle. A monster. A mermaid.
She smiled at the night, thankful for so many wondrous and amazing things.
“Is he in love with you?”
The soft, lyrical voice carried to her on a chill, brine-kissed wind. Aurelia whirled, but there was no one there. She scanned the deck, her eyes probing the small pool of light left by a single lantern hanging on the main mast, and then the deeper shadows, searching, searching, until—
Perched on the rail near the bow, a pair of glowing golden eyes pierced the dark. The figure was half hidden behind the foremast, and Aurelia had to step to the side and squint to see the body attached to those eyes.
To see the tail attached to that body.
“Stars above,” Aurelia whispered as she faced the mermaid. Her iridescent fins hung off the side of the ship, but the mermaid was half turned to face Aurelia. Dripping pink hair clung to her pale skin, but somehow the effect was still astonishingly beautiful on the strange creature.
And her fingers—blood dripped from long, claw-like nails, landing in a small puddle that had gathered beneath her.
The scratching Aurelia had heard earlier—her skin went cold as she realized the mermaid had climbed the ship. And had been watching, listening…waiting.
“Is he in love with you?” the mermaid asked again. Her voice was ethereal, the soft tones lilting and flowing like the sweetest music.
“N-no,” Aurelia said. “He isn’t.”
The mermaid’s eyes lowered, assessing her in a single, clinical sweep. Aurelia flicked her gaze toward the captain’s quarters. Should she call for him? Should she reach for her sword? She couldn’t tell if her heart was racing because it wanted to warn her or because she felt like she’d stepped into another of her childhood fantasies.
The mermaid spoke again. “He kissed you.”
“Not because he loves me,” Aurelia said quickly, and stepped a little closer so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. Only a few yards separated them, Aurelia in the lantern light while the mermaid remained in darkest shadow.
The mermaid cocked her head.
Aurelia wavered, her hand itching for the hilt of her sword as the blood continued to drip, drip, drip from the mermaid’s fingers. But how threatening was a mermaid, really, when she had no legs or weapons aside from her long nails and sharp teeth? “He…he was only teasing. Even earlier today, he pretended to kiss me to get other pirates to look away.”
“Because you’re his?”
Aurelia’s breath whooshed from her chest. “No,” she said firmly. “Because I asked him to save me, and he did. But he’s…he sees me as little more than a little sister.” A small, crying girl in a sopping dress. It was good to remember that when adventures like the ones she’d had today blurred the lines. “He kissed me because he was teasing,” she said again, stopping short of saying the teasing had been meant for the mermaid. “It wasn’t love.”
“What would make it love?”
Aurelia rubbed her arm. “If he loved me, it would’ve been different. Like in the storybooks.”
“Storybooks?”
“Tales,” Aurelia said. “Legends. Stories… Surely you have them.”
The mermaid straightened. “We do.”
“Do they speak of love?”
The mermaid smiled as though Aurelia were a child. Faced with that grin, Aurelia felt as though she was. “Some do, I suppose.”
Aurelia cleared her throat, now the one to ask, “How?”
The mermaid looked out to the sea. “The legend of my kind,” she said, “began long ago with a sailor who loved the sea, and a sea goddess who loved the sailor, but she was afraid he would scorn her for being a creature of the deep. So instead of speaking to him as she wished to, she sang to him. By day, her songs warned him of reefs and shallows, and by night she sang lullabies so that he might sleep sweetly.”
The mermaid turned to Aurelia, twisting her body and gripping the rail next to her with red hands. “She watched the man each day. Watched in agony as he loved village girls on land, and rejoiced when he never brought any back to his home on the sea. She saw the sailor also yearned for love, one truer than his dalliances with the human women who did not want to travel with him, for they were scared of the sea and of leaving their homes. For years, he looked for someone to love him while the goddess sang her love to him every day.
“Then one night, he cried out his despair, and the goddess came to him. Upon seeing her, he was allured by her beauty.” Her eyes swept over Aurelia again, but it wasn’t flattering. “He told her how his heart broke for the true love he craved, so the goddess offered him her hand. She said, ‘Come, fair sailor, and join me in the deep. For someone who loves the sea so fiercely shall find a worthy home with me.’
“ ‘But I will die,’ the sailor replied. The goddess laughed and said, ‘Kiss me, then. Kiss me, and you will not die, but live.’ So he did, and he joined her in the sea. He lives with her to this day as her consort, as beautiful and immortal and powerful as she, and his heart is full and loved.”
Aurelia swallowed. “That’s…” A fairy tale. “That’s true?”
The mermaid flashed a smile, revealing elongated canines. “It’s a very old story, older than you and older than I, but yes, it is true.”
Aurelia didn’t know what to think other than to believe her.
The mermaid touched her throat, and when her hand came away, she held a small conch threaded on a thin strand of seaweed.
“What’s that?” Aurelia asked, because she had a feeling the mermaid wanted her to. But instead of answering, the mermaid held out the shell, letting it dangle and spin. Aurelia crept forward. Her heart pounded as she neared, begging her to step back, step away from those fangs and claws and pointed fins. This close, the mermaid’s beauty only became more terrifying.
Aurelia held out her hand, and the mermaid set the shell in her palm.
It was just a shell. Just a necklace.
“Beautiful,” Aurelia said anyway, because it was the only normal, bland thing about the mermaid, and somehow the simple trinket seemed even more precious for how terribly unremarkable it was. She tried to give it back, but the mermaid didn’t take it.
“You tell me a story,” she said. “Your story. With him.” She looked to William’s doors where the light had faded but had not gone out altogether. He must have left a lantern lit, must still be awake.
Aurelia’s shoulders relaxed. She could still call for him if she needed.
She swept her thumb over the shell. In her moment of silence, she’d taken an unconscious step back, edging away from the creature on the rail.
“I met him ten years ago,” Aurelia began quietly, and told the mermaid a version of her story that lacked her love for William. A tale that made them sound like acquaintances, friends at best, and she was an unremarkable girl who happened to gain a pirate captain’s pity.
And though she told the mermaid this tale, she also told this version to remind herself that she was unremarkable. A girl who was kissed without love because she had little to offer by way of interest, and this was okay because she still got to go on an adventure and should not want more than that. It eased the tendrils of hope that had grown over the day—the dangerous, thorny ones that wondered if they might ever be more.
As the mermaid listened, her eyes were cold. Watching the shell Aurelia mindlessly rolled through her fingers or scrutinizing her face with unfeeling calculation. When Aurelia finished, the mermaid held out her hand. “You’re right,” she said as Aurelia handed the shell back. Her fanged smile reappeared, wicked and cunning. “He couldn’t love you.”
“As I said,” Aurelia replied, and regretted the sharpness in her tone, because the mermaid’s claws were too close and still bled.
The mermaid fastened the shell at her throat. “As I said,” she repeated, but the voice that came out was Aurelia’s.
Aurelia gasped. She reached for her sword, but the mermaid only pushed from the rail and dove into the waves. Aurelia ran to the edge of the ship just in time to see the mermaid’s tail glint as she swam away with her corpse, her lips pressed against his.