Cutlass (17 page)

The lanterns the blacksmith and his wife had put up earlier were all lit, casting a silver glow on the ground. Tables and chairs were pulled from the Bloodshed and set up around the ring of lights. People were already gathering outside—women, men, and children alike were all dressed in their cleanest and best clothing.

“Have you been to Conn recently?” asked Barren.

“No,” the old man shook his head and leaned heavily on his cane, moving to the front of his desk. “But what’re ya so worried about? I know who I am lookin’ for.”

“I’m not worried about you,” said Barren. “I’m just wondering what precautions I need to take. Are the people of Conn going to hate me just like those of Maris do?”

“Yer father considered settlin’ there after yer mother died,” said Alex with a shrug. “But considerin’ yer crimes against Maris and yer recent decision to kidnap Larkin, it’s better ta assume they’ll be lookin’ for you. Small islands like Conn need the bounty on yer head.”

Barren pursed his lips. He felt strange sitting in this chair, so far from the future he imagined when he kidnapped Larkin.

“I know it’ll be ‘ard fur ya, but we have ta do this. It’s either this or William gets the crown.”

“I know,” Barren said quietly. “I’m more afraid of what I’m going to find out along the way. I thought I knew my father.”

“Ya do know yer father,” said Alex. “And don’t let anythin’ ya discover on this journey change what ye thought ‘bout ‘em.”

“Did you even know?” Barren met Alex’s watery, blue-eyed gaze. “Did you know about the bloodstone? About my mother?”

“There were always rumors ‘bout yer father’s dealings with the Elvish folk, but nothing grew into solidity,” said Alex. “Well, until William and you came along, but then I just assumed yer mother was Elvish…I’d ‘ave never thought she was a Lyric.”

Barren could feel Alex’s eyes on him as the pirate stared down at the map. He was marking coordinates down on a blank sheet of parchment to give to Sam tomorrow morning. When he heard the old man let out a ragged breath, he spoke up.

“I noticed you did not tell me who we are traveling to Conn to see.”

Alex chuckled and took the pipe out of his mouth. “Ya would not know ‘em, so what’s the need in namin’ ‘em?”

“It’s nice to have a name.”

“Do ya not trust me?”

“I trust you,” said Barren. “But Tetherion said that this man was once part of Jess’s crew. Maybe I’d remember him.”

Alex was quiet for a moment, and then he let out a low sigh. “‘E’s name is Devon Kennings. ‘E wasn’t around much. ‘E was…a spy for Jess.”

“A spy?” Barren stared up at the old man.

“‘E was Chancellor of Maris, specifically, ‘e was in charge of foreign affairs. ‘E…kept your father updated on all of Cathmor’s thoughts and actions. That’s ‘ow Jess always knew where to attack.”

“Was he caught?”

Devon laughed, as if the result was obvious. “Yes, and Cathmor’s best assassins were sent to annihilate ‘em…but that didn’t go as planned. Thankfully for us, ‘e’s still alive, and I believe ‘e might have information on the bloodstone.”

“If he’s considered a traitor to the crown, he could be anywhere. What makes you think he’s still in Conn?”

“It’s the last place the Network saw ‘em. We ‘ave to start somewhere in any case.”

A knock sounded on the door and Mary poked her head in. “The dance has begun! You must come down!”

Even Mary had dressed up for it. In place of her usual work clothes—a red button-down dress and white apron—she wore a blue gown with puffy sleeves that swept the floor. The color toned down the red tinge of her cheeks. She had also taken her hair out of its normal bun, and braided it so that it fell down her back.

Alex grumbled. “Must we?”

“Yes,” she huffed. “We didn’t spend all evening getting ready for nothing!”

“Barren and I didn’t ‘ave ta do anythin’,” said Alex, though he was heading to the door as he spoke.

“And it shows!” said Mary as they walked out the door and down the steps. Barren remained in his seat for a moment, but when the music floated through the window, he pushed his seat back and peered outside. It seemed the whole of Silver Crest was gathered together for this event. They had formed a line and were dancing, exchanging places and laughing. Barren felt a sense of comfort at seeing this again.

He searched the crowd, unsure of who he was looking for until his eyes fell upon Larkin. She was dancing with Jonathan Kingsley, a smile spread wide on her face. Her dress was simple—a white chemise and a black corset hugged her waist, and yet her silhouette was just as graceful against the silver of the lantern light. Barren groaned inwardly—he didn’t want to find his brother’s fiancée attractive. What was worse, he recognized that pang of jealousy welling up inside him—it was time for a drink.

Barren headed downstairs and into the cool night. The music seemed to drift around him, and a breeze tousled his already wild hair. He pushed his hands into his pockets and gazed out at the merry setting for a moment. As a child, this place had been his home—he felt safe here, enveloped in the knowledge that these people did not hate him, but he also felt sadness because many of his days spent here were days wondering when his father would return to see him. He took a deep breath and then descended the steps, hearing his name called after stepping beyond the shadowed porch.

“There he is! Barren!”

The pirate craned his neck in the direction of the voice and saw a table where Alex, Leaf, Cove, Hollow, and Slay sat. He smiled at them.

“Come and sit, my boy!” Alex called. “Mary won’t let ya rest if ya don’t dance, though!”

Barren chuckled as he approached. “I’m not a very good dancer.”

“That’s not what you told Larkin,” said Leaf. Barren glowered at him—damn Elvish hearing. Leaf shrugged. “Well, it isn’t.”

Slay pushed the pitcher of ale toward the pirate. “Drink,” he said. “If you won’t dance.”

“Thanks, Slay,” Barren poured himself a cup of ale and drank it slowly. The clear liquid was cool in his mouth and made his tense nerves relax just a little.

“Have fun this night,” Alex advised, a mug of ale resting on his stomach. “You won’t have many of these nights in the near future.”

“I know,” Barren said quietly, and he took an even bigger gulp of ale.

“We’ve sent word to Arcarum that we will be detained at sea a little longer than we expected,” said Cove. “All is in order for us to sail with you.”

Barren nodded his head, and was silent for a moment, but words formed in his thoughts and forced their way off his tongue. “I don’t like it. Fighting privateers is one thing, but helping me? That is treason of the highest kind. You could lose everything.”

Hollow chuckled, his dark eyes were like hot coals in the night, and he sat with his back straight, a cigar between his fingers, smoke rose in the air. “It is not your decision. Besides,” he said as he sucked on the end of his cigar, blasting smoke between his lips. “We’ve no blood to hold us to Arcarum. What have we to return to but politics and money?”

Barren’s gaze passed between the two, and while Hollow’s eyes remained on Barren, Cove let his gaze fall, and he stared at the table, his eyes running along the grain of the wood. He wondered what the Ambassador wasn’t telling them—what blood did he have in Arcarum to return to?

“If you keep drinking, you won’t be able to dance.” Larkin’s voice startled him, and he choked on his ale, spitting what was in his mouth back into his cup and coughing as the rest went down wrong.

“Or I’ll be dead!” he said, trying to catch his breath.

Leaf laughed. “Lady, you’ll have to try not to choke our captain to death. We do really need him, despite his stupidity.”

Larkin smirked. “Considering he is a pirate, I expect him to always be prepared for what I have up my sleeve.”

“Enough amusement at my expense,” said Barren, and he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Oh, now you act as if I’m burdensome?” questioned Larkin as they walked away. “You were the one who wanted to dance.”

Leaf shook his head. “They are going to make me an old man...and that’s very hard to do because I’m an Elf. Do you know how many years they would have to age me?”

“Yer already almost a-hundred years old,” said Slay. “Ye are an old man.”

“Take it easy on the aged,” warned Alex. “Before you
is
an old man.”

The music began: a slow tune—sweet and melodious. Barren rolled his eyes.

“I know it’s torture,” said Larkin with a laugh. “Would you prefer fighting?”

“Is that not what we were doing?” asked Barren.

“What? No…that was bickering. There is a difference.”

“Really? Isn’t bickering just another word for fighting?”

Barren smirked and Larkin punched him in the shoulder. He smiled as he took her hand and pulled her toward him, placing his other hand around her waist. He kept his gaze on her, watching to see how she reacted to his touch. It was strange for his hands to hold something so fragile when he thought of how often he carried steel.

“You know, you’ve thrown more insults my way since I met you than Leaf has in our entire friendship.”

“I doubt I could claim such a feat,” Larkin looked up at him as they moved about, and though her voice held an edge of sarcasm, she was grinning.

“So,” said Barren after a moment, he raised a brow. “Jonathan Kingsley?”

“What?” For a moment she seemed confused, and then realization settled in. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

“He just seems to have taken a liking to you,” said Barren.

“No,” she shook her head. “Jonathan is merely a friend. And to make matters worse, he has lied to me for years.”

“Well, I surely would never have told you I was a pirate. You are the fiancée of William Reed, remember?”

“I don’t think I would have reacted badly.”

Barren raised a brow, as if to say
whatever
.

“You always think the worst of me.”

“Hardly, My Lady! In fact, I would say it’s the other way around.”

She only stared at him, her lips clamped tight.

“By the time you do return to William, you will be so much of a pirate, he might not want you.”

“What do you mean?”

Barren smirked, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure he should tell her what he meant. “Well…you have opinions. Can’t imagine that goes over well in your previous company.”

“It doesn’t go over well in my current company, either.”

Barren chuckled. “What I mean is…Saoirse seems to fit you very well. It’s okay to admit you want freedom.”

Larkin was silent. Barren knew she would not see piracy as freedom. She saw it as breaking the rules; it would mean she was a traitor.

“I know where your opinion on pirates comes from, and I just want to say I’m sorry about your mother. It probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I do know how you feel.”

Larkin’s eyes fell from Barren’s, and while he expected some answer in return—an insult, at the least a thank you—what he got was much different. She rested her head on Barren’s shoulder, which caused his arm to tighten around her waist. He thought back to the night of the engagement party when he had watched Larkin dance with William—they had not seemed so in tune with each other, and William could not move without stepping all over Larkin’s gown. He looked down at her as they swayed back and forth, wondering if she was aware that she was in the arms of a murderer.

The music stopped and the two froze, Barren stepped away from her, and their eyes finally met again. He only nodded his head as he departed, making his way toward the table where his crew sat. He took up his mug of ale and drank deeply.

***

The evening wore on after that with more dancing and more drinking. The pirates never seemed to lose their energy. Larkin had been to several balls in the past, but none were as exciting or as exhausting as this. After Barren had taken his turn as her dance partner, others rose to the occasion, even the twins jumped in to whirl her around the makeshift dance floor.

At some point in the night, Larkin found herself resting her head against the post of the steps to the McCloud house, sleepy and a little tipsy. She was alone, watching figures move in the distance. They were all blurry images—beautiful and happy. She watched as two came into focus. One was Mary, the other was Alex—he leaned heavily on his wife and his cane, face sweaty and red. He let out an exhaustive huff as he plopped down in a chair near the porch. He began unbuckling the latches that held his wooden leg on. Mary disappeared to find water.

Larkin wondered what happened to Alex—how he had been wounded so terribly. Had he lost his leg and eye all in the same day? What other scars had he endured from his life as a pirate? Did he think it was worth it?

The slender figure of Leaf Tinavin approached. The Elf looked as if he were enjoying himself, and bore a smug smirk upon his thin lips.

“My Lady,” Leaf bowed his head, and he took a seat next to her. She kept her eyes focused on Alex, and she must have had a rather pitiful look on her face, because after a moment, Leaf leaned over and said, “You can quit feeling pity for him, he’s not sad he doesn’t have a leg. He was also paid handsomely for his loss—eight hundred pieces per limb…probably more.” Larkin seemed appalled and Leaf laughed. “At least we’re a little bit remorseful about the whole thing.”

“Is
that
according to pirate code?” Larkin meant that to be sarcastic, but Leaf nodded. “What happened to his leg?”

Leaf chuckled, and then did something that made Larkin want to hide her face for eternity. “Hey Alex! Larkin wants to know what happened to your leg.”

Alex looked up and laughed. “This thing? Ah, it was during an ambush. Man came up to me and sliced right through my leg beneath the knee. Had no chance of savin’ it. Just had to sear it and keep goin.”

Larkin looked horrified. “Sear it?”

“Yeah, burn it. You know, with fire.”

The look on her face made Alex laugh harder. “Better quit laughing, Alex, she’ll think you’re joking.”

“He’s not?”

Finally, Leaf looked a little sympathetic. “We’ve limited ways to treat wounds out on the open sea. I’m a healer, but even my knowledge is limited. Alex would have bled to death had his wound not been cauterized. That’s life as a pirate.”