Cutlass (19 page)

“This would be a good time for you to run!” Barren yelled.

But Larkin didn’t want to leave. Where would she go? Everyone around her was fighting, but that wouldn’t stop the privateers from going into town where women and children were hiding. She held up her knife, ready for a fight, but as she showed signs of staying and defending herself, privateers moved to encircle her. She stood tense but ready. She would fight them—she was skilled with a sword. How different could a knife be?

One of the men chuckled. “Feelin’ scared?”

Larkin narrowed her eyes, trying to appear as collected as possible. “Never,” she said. Her eyes shifted to Barren who was still engaged with the frizzy-haired leader of the privateers. It seemed the problem was that there were more privateers than pirates. With four men surrounding her, she had a few options that might keep them at bay.

One man reached for her, and she struck. The knife hit him. He drew back quickly, holding his bloodied hand to his chest, and after that, there was no time to lose—the other three men moved for her. She twisted, her knife brandished.

“Come now, love, don’t you wanna go home? What’d your father think if he heard you were fightin’ to stay at Barren Reed’s side?”

“He shouldn’t have sent a bunch of ragged privateers to claim me,” Larkin replied. An arm wound its way around her neck, and another hand pried the knife from her fingers. Within seconds, she was pressed against a privateer’s chest, her own knife to her throat. He began pulling her away. She had allowed herself to be distracted. She struggled against the man, and found that the privateer wasn’t afraid to press the knife into her skin further. She relented a little.

“Gone soft for the pirate now?” the man said against her ear. “Well that’s certainly a tale for your father. Though, I might be willin’ to keep it a secret for a price.”

“I’d rather you told!” Larkin’s nails dug into his arm, but his grip only grew tighter.

“Oh, I’ll tell all right,” the man’s breath was on her neck and she cringed. “And I’ll have my way with you, too.”

Larkin moved to elbow the man, but the blade at her neck cut into her skin.

“Now, now—we are playing nice. Just ease back and no harm will come to you.” Larkin remained tense. The three men who surrounded her before now formed a barrier, and all fought pirates who were trying to come to her rescue. Larkin’s eyes found Barren and she watched him fight. His muscles rippled as his blade crashed with his enemy’s. She had fought with him, but never observed him before. She expected his fighting style to be brutal, almost unfair—instead she found that he was precise, calculated, and fast. It was because of this, that he was finally able to take down the leader of the privateers. When Barren turned to face Larkin and her captor, she felt the man’s arm tighten around her neck in fear, and he began dragging her quickly away.

The barrier meant to protect Larkin and her captor from Barren failed, as each person was engaged in battle with another pirate. Barren rushed around them, only to be met with another privateer who had come to the captor’s rescue. With her abductor distracted by Barren’s attempts to gain ground, Larkin was able to grasp the man’s sweaty arm tightly, and relieve the pressure of the knife from her neck. She jammed her foot into the man’s leg. He hollered in pain, and released Larkin enough so that she could pull away from him, twist his arm, and take possession of her knife once again. She raised the blade at the greasy privateer and he snarled. “Now what’re you gonna do with that?”

“What I meant to do before,” she replied.

He rushed at Larkin, and she jumped out of the way, slicing the man’s arm. He howled in pain. Whipping around, he pressed a hand to the wound, blood seeping from between his fingers. He glared at her, breathing harshly. “I’m gonna kill—” his voice was cut short and he fell, an arrow in his back.

Larkin stared at the lifeless body before her. She wasn’t sure she could have killed him. She tossed the blade into the sand as a bloodied Barren approached her.

“Larkin,” he was breathless. “Are you okay?” The privateers were retreating, hurrying to their ship, and leaving their ruins behind. The pirates weren’t finished with them, however, because a few had produced hand cannons—they were smaller, and anchored into the ground by a piece of wood. Shots rang out and crashed into the privateer’s ships.

Larkin stared at Barren; she was unable to think clearly. He grasped her shoulders, but only for a moment. As she looked at him, a crease appeared between his brows and his eyes grew wide. Larkin hit the sand as two gunshots rang out. She saw Barren fall. He was on the ground, his voice rose in painful gasps.

“Barren!” Larkin crawled to him. Blood pooled from a wound at his shoulder and one at his side. Barren’s hands dug into the sand as his breathing grew heavier and heavier. Larkin gathered the fabric of her skirt in both hands, pressing it to his wound.

All she could think to do was scream; she was afraid. “Someone help me!”

Leaf pulled her away and she fell into the sand. “Nath! Dath! Help me!”

They picked him up and carried him toward town. Larkin trailed quickly behind. The trek to the McCloud’s house seemed to take forever as they hurried through the small town of Silver Crest, sad eyes following them. They entered through the front door and hurried Barren upstairs. His head fell back and she caught his gaze.

“Don’t die,” she whispered, standing in the doorway of the house, Barren’s blood dripping from the hem of her gown.

Barren woke up on a cold table. Darkness surrounded him. He shivered, not remembering how he had gotten here. After a moment, he sat up, studying the air. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—maybe a light to blaze, or someone to say his name, but silence filled the space. He moved off the slab, his feet touched the ground. Pushing his hands out, he ran them over a cold wall—it was smooth like marble. With the guide of the wall, he inched forward, stumbling into a set of stairs. He found, however, as he tried to climb them, that they only led to a thick set of doors—he could feel the cool handles beneath his skin. He struggled against them—their weight on his shoulders. Pausing, he rested for a moment, before taking a deep breath and pushing against them again.

The doors flew open with force, and he stumbled through, attacked by light. He fell, unaware that there were steps leading down from the place he had been. As he lay in the grass, his eyes adjusted, and he could see a figure above him—Larkin, but she was not paying attention to him. Her gaze was on something else. He followed it. A great mausoleum rose up before them—marble and magnificent. He realized it was the room he had just stumbled from, only now the doors were closed, and above them was a name, etched in black: “Barren Reed.”

Barren shook his head, “No,” he stood, reaching for Larkin, but his fingers only produced a chill. She didn’t even look his way. Then he noticed something different about her: a gown of deep purple was wrapped around her body. She wore a cloak of the same color, a gem clasped tight at her neck. The engagement ring that once hung there was on her finger. Upon her head was a crown of gold and diamonds, but all the wealth she wore could not hide her unhappiness. Her face was pale and drawn with loss. What had happened here? Why was she this person?

She wasn’t meant to be this person.

But how did Barren know that? He had taken her from her home, from her life. How did he know she didn’t belong?

Because it didn’t feel right. Because no matter how stubborn Larkin was, she did not deserve William’s inattention.

As if on cue, the bulky form of his brother appeared. He was happy—a stark contrast to his bride. He placed an arm around her and pulled her to him. He was dressed in a rich red shirt with gold clasps, black pants, and a fur-lined cloak, but the one thing Barren couldn’t take his eyes off of was the crown on his head. It was a gold circle of fleur-de-lis, and at the very front, a bright red gem glowed. Barren could only assume it was the bloodstone. But if William was king...where was Tetherion? Nath and Dath...everyone else? Barren slowly moved beyond his mausoleum and horror met him. The graves of his crew stretched before him. He felt sick. All he ever wanted was for them to be safe.

He ripped his eyes open, sitting up with a start. Overwhelmed with pain, he fell against the pillows, breathing hard. He reached for his chest, where the sting was worse, but someone stopped him, moving his hand to rest against his stomach. Larkin appeared above him, worry written all over her face. She sat down on the bed, smoothing his hair away from his face and laying a wet towel on his heated skin.

“Larkin,” he breathed.

She smiled faintly. The worry in her eyes receded a little.

“What happened?”

He remembered fighting privateers, but everything after that was a blur.

“You were shot,” she whispered. “The bullets didn’t exit. You almost died.”

Barren swallowed. His body felt clammy and he shook with cold, though somehow he knew he was probably feverish—his body was covered in sweat. He was trying to think clearly, but his mind was muddled with pain.

“Jonathan is dead,” Larkin’s voice shook as she spoke, and her eyes were red. “There were privateers...they came to kidnap me so I could not return to Maris and ruin my father and William’s plans.”

Barren was quiet for a long moment. Larkin’s gaze fell as tears threatened her eyes. “I should tell Leaf you are awake. He will want to know.”

Before she could move away, Barren grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave yet...please.”

She stared at him for a moment and then relaxed, sitting back down on the bed.

“It was not your fault that Jonathan died,” he tried to comfort her, but he knew nothing he said would work. People had been trying to tell him his father’s death wasn’t his fault for years and he still blamed himself.

 “I could have exposed you in the courtyard,” Larkin said quietly. “Or stayed where I was supposed to…now look what’s happened.”

A pang of sadness shot through Barren.

“Life has happened, Larkin. Your regret will not change Jonathan’s fate.”

“You should have handed me over. What good am I to you, anyway?”

“Why are you suddenly treating yourself as an object?” Barren narrowed his eyes.

“It’s just…I don’t have a place here.”

“How do you know that?” Barren paused so she could answer, but silence filled the room. “Larkin, it’s not shameful to run from responsibility. Sometimes we do what our heart tells us because reason isn’t worth listening to.”

“But that is how you justify avenging your father’s death,” said Larkin. “And it doesn’t make sense!”

Barren’s eyes grew dark. “What do you want me to say?” She didn’t respond. “Why are you fighting me?”

“I have to!” she cried angrily. “I have to because if I don’t, I’ll never go back! Don’t you understand? I don’t want to go back!”

Larkin was suddenly overwhelmed with tears. Barren wasn’t sure why, but he instinctively reached out and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist him, instead she rested against his bandaged chest, weeping. Her body shivered against his, and he had no words of comfort. It wasn’t up to him to decide whether or not this life suited her best—that was her decision. Even if she did not marry his brother, her undying loyalty to her father would keep her in Maris.

He buried his head in her hair, taking a deep breath.

“Well, this wasn’t unexpected at all,” came a voice from the door.

Leaf stared at the two, his eyes bright with amusement and a smirk lingering on his lips. Larkin moved away from Barren quickly, brushing tears from her face. She stood. “I will leave you two.”

Neither Leaf nor Barren objected, but even if they had, she would have been out the door before they could utter a word of protest.

After she left, Leaf raised a brow. “You are going to be in trouble.”

Barren ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, letting his head fall into the pillows.

“No, she will not be separated from William,” said Barren. He looked away from the Elf, not feeling like being lectured.

“I think she already is,” said Leaf.

Leaf handed Barren a cup that smelled of mint.

“Have you decided what Larkin will do while you are searching for this bloodstone?”

Barren took a slow drink of the mixture. It was bitter, but warmed him instantly and the clamminess left his body. “I cannot take her back to Maris, and her presence here has already proven to be detrimental. She’s a liability either way.”

“Well you are still responsible for her well-being,” said Leaf. “If you take her with you, you have to make sure she behaves in a way that doesn’t expose your crew.”

That might turn out to be harder than it sounded, considering Larkin did everything in her power to defy every order Barren gave—it started with Jonathan Kingsley, and continued during the attack on Silver Crest. Searching for the bloodstone was bound to offer more conflict between them.

“I worry those privateers will return,” Barren said.

“If they do, at least the pirates will be prepared. Since the attack, they have worked to rebuild their ships, and the blacksmith has set to fashioning more weapons.”