Pirate Lord Page 2

  She narrowed her glare, even as his attention was snagged by another Whitman crew with a death wish. “You’ve been before. You’ve met with him.”

  He didn’t deny it. Two more men fell to his blade.

  More secrets? More of his past that he hadn’t revealed to her? She felt a pang of anger. He knew everything about her past. Everything. “Tell me.” A dagger found its way into her hand, soaring over Stig’s head and finding its target. Red fog lingered at the corners of her mind but she forced it back.

  The glance Stig and Tristan shared told her enough. Tristan glanced at her, “Can we discuss this later?”

  Lily swung back her elbow, hearing a satisfying grunt from the man who had thought to sneak up on her. She kicked him back, her heel sinking into his gut. “What, you’re not capable of multitasking?” She licked her lips, tasted blood.

  He growled, “It’s not that big a deal – the topic hadn’t come up yet. It was years ago, before I became Captain of The Shadow. There was a period when I was causing rather a lot of trouble.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick that he had, “It’s done; I won’t tell you more than that. Anyway, the Pirate Lord called me to court. He gave me The Shadow.”

  “The Pirate Lord gave you The Shadow?”

  “He thought it would be best if I had something I was tethered to.”

  Lily decided she’d untie that comment later. “And you didn’t think to tell me when I received the summons about your own experience with the Pirate Lord?”

  Tristan shrugged, “It was eighteen years ago.”

  “How can you be so dismissive of this? You’ve met him, you can tell me about him, tell me what to expect.”

  “It won’t be enough.” He was backing off, not retreating exactly but seeking out another area of the raid with less commentary. Tigerlily glared back at him, and he knew it was not a conversation he’d be able to avoid for long. Stig had already disappeared back into the chaos – he’d thank him later for using his tongue before his brain. Tristan hadn’t punched his first mate in years, but there was always the chance that old habits would slip back.

  Her eyes flashed, Eli back at her side. “Tell me everything.”

  Tristan nodded once, then turned away. There was plenty more fun to be had yet.

  ~

  Shouts went up as the enemy ship retreated, shattered wood creaking as they broke away. Lily heaved in a breath and wiped her blade off on one of the corpses before sliding the sword back into its sheath. She’d give it a proper clean later. Running her fingers over her dagger belt, she found she was one short. She whistled once, loudly. None of the crew were stupid enough to steal her blades, but they’d at least know to keep a look out on the bodies before tossing them overboard. Lily rolled up her sleeves, rubbing at the scars that encircled her wrist. The same marks were etched into both of her arms – the evidence of the manacles that had ripped at her skin. They were her only souvenirs from her time as a victim of the slavers. That, and the lingering memory of a girl with blue hair, a girl who had been her friend. Her name had been Giana, and she had died leaving Lily to survive alone. Or whatever was left of her.

  She had always had this fire within her, this demanding voice encouraging her to hurt, to kill. She had grown up quietening it, burying it deep inside, where it could not escape. But her life grew tough, and as she grew weaker, as the manacles bit into her wrists on that slave ship, whatever force it was within her grew stronger. Lily had killed her first man back in The Harbour, after he tried to rape her. She hadn’t regretted ending his life, nor any of the people she had killed in her time on The Shadow, the ship that she now called home. In fact, there was only one life she ever regretted taking, a life that was offered up to her, the friend that had begged her to end it all. Giana. Her friend on the slavers ship had been the one thing that had kept her going. In the end Giana gave too much, leaving nothing for herself. She had been a slave before, and she dreaded meeting their new master. It was only a few days before Tristan appeared that Lily finally gave in and strangled Giana with their own chains. The quickest death she could offer.

  They were by no means the only scars she bore – a few years at sea had seen to that. She had countless other marks, from battle, from the ship itself, from bearing her children, not to mention running around after them. But none of her scars, not even the gruesome rings on her wrists, compared to those on her back, the cruel lines where her father had whipped her with his belt when she was a child. Lily had learned to live with them. She now kind of liked them, they reminded her of what she had faced, and what she had survived. Plus they’d kept her out of the whore houses – nobody wanted to sell damaged goods.

  She let go of the body, catching Jim’s eye as he stooped to take up the body and toss it over. Daley took the other side, his back to her. She’d check on them properly later. Glancing out over the remains of the battle, Lily stretched her arms behind her head, arching her back. It was hard work, the bodies were heavy and she knew she stank of more than the metallic tang of blood. She paced over to the balustrade, mentally granting herself a moments rest. They hadn’t been in sight of land for a few days, but she could never tire of this view.

  According to her research The Island – the home of the Pirate Lord – lay above the divide, strategically positioned as a central hub, equidistant to the Southern Lands, the Eastern Territories and the West Lands alike. The Northern Isles were too far from anything to be considered nearby, but that mattered little.

  There used to be names for these countries, there used to be kingdoms and empires, wars and disputes over land and people. Usually over money. After the great wars all the names were forgotten, and places were referred to by their location and typography instead. So names such as the Southern Lands and Mountain Pass stuck. It had been that way for centuries, and Lily had assumed it was all still like that, and that everyone accepted the world as it was. She had learnt after sailing the seas that it was not so clean cut as this; the kings were rising again, rumours of battles fought reached even those on the waves. But there was not an all-out war, yet. If the rumours were true it wasn’t far off.

  It seemed there were always people willing to break an era of peace for their own gain, for power, for fame. Whatever they wanted to label it as. In Lily’s opinion Lord Merek was just another extension of this, a man with an empty title, calling himself a Lord to maintain control over people. Tristan tried to assure her it went deeper than this, that pirates kept themselves separate from the whims of the land. Merek was the Pirate Lord, and that was that, he was to be respected, but for the most he wouldn’t get involved, he stayed on his Island. It worked for them. Lily couldn’t help but think that they were all kidding themselves. If you called yourself a Lord, you did it for a reason, and that reason was not tradition.

  “Alright Lil?”

  “Chop.”

  His white teeth flashed as he leaned beside her. Chop was her rock, and he had been ever since Lily came aboard The Shadow. He picked her up when she felt down, and shoved her back into action. His huge frame and missing fingers made him seem like a scary character, but he was the kindest man Lily had ever met. He could read her like a book, something that not many seemed to be able to do. Chop always understood, whether she admitted he was right or not, whether she accepted it or not, he could always see what was going on in her mind.

  He was the ships doctor; it was rumoured that his nickname came from a penchant for chopping limbs off – but it was actually down to the shape of his hand, which was missing all of his fingers leaving just his thumb and his palm. Apparently the crew decided it looked like a pork chop, and after that ‘Chop’ kind of stuck. He’d gained another scar on his cheek since Lily had met him, so two pale marks now blemished his dark skin. His eyes were an electric green, and he kept his hair shaved down to the scalp. He came from the Desert Isles, but fled after his partner had been killed. Same sex relationships had not been acceptable where he was from. It was his story, his lo
ss and his experience that had convinced Lily to not let Tristan slip through her grasp, to take a chance and call her feelings for him what they were. She’d gambled her life, released the grasp on her self-control, let go of who she had been, who she was trying to be, all for love.

  It had been a tidy raid, it must have been for Chop to be above deck rather than stitching up patients. There would be minor things to see to, but the crew waited till after clear up before dealing with bruises and scratches.

  Lily glanced over her shoulder, everyone was busy. Even so, as she turned back to Chop she dropped her voice to a murmur, “How did Tristan get The Shadow?”

  Chop narrowed his eyes, barely faltering, “He told you about the Pirate Lord didn’t he.”

  Lily snorted, yet again he’d seen right through her, and yet again she’d been kept in the dark. “So you did know.”

  “He’s Captain, Lil. I can’t tell you everything, much as I wish I could. It’s his to tell.”

  “And he tells me nothing, you know what he’s like.”

  “You don’t need to know everything.”

  Much as she tried not to, she raised her voice, “I like to know everything.”

  “Lil, calm down. You’re acting like a spoilt brat. Stop getting hung up on what Tristan has or hasn’t told you. You have bigger fish to fry, you’re going to meet the Pirate Lord. If I were you I’d be a lot more concerned about that.” His musical voice calmed her, reducing the anger boiling up inside her to a simmer.

  Lily grunted, “He’s just another pirate.”

  “He’s on a whole other level. You should at least pretend to respect him to his face. Best behaviour, and I’m not just talking about the kids.”

  A deeper voice intervened, “He’s Lord and master of the seas.”

  Lily snapped her head around, “Kilo, since when were you listening?”

  “I can throw out the trash and use my ears you know.” A body hung over his shoulder. He was lanky, but very strong; he could carry loads that Lily could barely drag across the deck. He grinned at her as the wind caught his bright blue hair, the mark of the Southern Lands.

  There tended to be a particular trait or style on each continent, Lily had now travelled to almost all of the main continents, and learnt to recognise where people hailed from. Southerners had blue hair in varying shades and their skin tended to be quite pale. Westerners had ornate tattoos on their cheekbones and almond shaped eyes with honey skin, Northmen had crescent moon tattoos on their hands and all ‘pure’ northerners had blonde hair and blue eyes. Those from the Forest Lands tended to have dark hair and dark eyes, Deserters like Chop had dark skin, and inhabitants of the Eastern Territories had long straight black hair and always seemed to have beautifully clear skin. The crew of The Shadow were a mishmash of people from all continents, they picked up people wherever they went, but the core members of their crew tended to stay the same. They’d managed to keep quite a large loyal crew over the last few years especially.

  Kilo had been the crewmember who’d taken her out of the darkness of that slave ship. She’d bitten him while trying to fight him off, thinking he was taking her to her new master. He still had a small scar on his arm from it. He joked about it every now and again, but didn’t really hold any grudge against her. In fact they were rather close nowadays. Lily could normally be found on deck with him, Jim, Daley, or Eli. They tended to fit their chores so they could do them together. They simply liked each other’s company.

  Lily narrowed her eyes at Kilo, “Have you met him then, this Merek guy?”

  Kilo chucked the body overboard with no effort whatsoever, and didn’t even wait for the splash before sitting himself upon the balustrade beside her. It was a wonder he could sit anywhere comfortably with how bony he was, “Lord Merek. And no, but from what I hear about him you’d best take Chop’s advice.”

  “Whatever. What advice would you give then?”

  Kilo’s lip quirked, “Don’t be yourself.”

  “Piss off.” Lily hissed.

  Chop grinned, “When your daughter starts to talk like that don’t try to put the blame on us.”

  Lily held up a finger in response, ignoring the laugher that trailed her as she prowled across the deck once more. Saff soared from somewhere in the clouds, settling on Lily’s shoulder, her talons bright red. Like her owner she was more bloodthirsty than most. A kestrel, Tristan had bought her for Lily’s birthday. It had become a common sighting – the two of them with Saff perched on her shoulder like a malcontent guardian angel. If Lily’s looks could kill, Saff’s looks would have you seething in a pit in hell before you knew what had struck. Lily absentmindedly stroked at the bird’s chest, Saff’s beak rubbing her knuckles as she nuzzled back. The deck was clear now, save for a few patches of blood and piles of loot yet to be properly stored, which the crew were already going about mopping up or tidying away. A shrill sound cut out across the deck, an answer to her earlier call. She raised her hand, catching the dagger that flew towards her. Jim had found it. She nodded to him, as much in thanks as recognition for his improved wrist action. She’d taught him herself. As Lily slotted it back into her belt, she felt a missing piece fit into place. She couldn’t help it, her daggers were a part of herself now. The key dragged against her chest as she pulled it up from the depths of her shirt. Two of these keys existed, one hanging from her neck, one from Tristans. The crew knew what to do with them if the day ever came when their captains fell.

  Lily slipped it into the lock, opening it with a click and pushing the door open. Instantly the twins were upon her, as if they’d been waiting expectantly for it to open. Jon kicked one of the scattered pieces of the board game they were playing. It rolled over to Lily, finishing up tapping against her boot. They granted her a passing greeting before spilling out onto the deck, running along the boards and scampering up ladders and ropes. She was convinced her boys were part monkey. Kris and Jon were completely identical, with dark hair like their father’s, and Lily’s own hazel eyes. They were five now, completely mischievous and full of energy. They would be just like Tristan when they grew up.

  Irena toddled from the dim meet room, blinking in the daylight. It was cloudy today, a brighter white light than sunnier days offered up. Her daughter had started walking at nine months, hadn’t even bothered to crawl, and now she ran around with no fear whatsoever. Even if she fell she never cried, she just pulled herself up again and continued on her way. The only time she ever seemed to cry was if she was hungry or she wanted attention. Typical.

  Lily laughed as the twins turned, encouraging Irena to catch up with them. Irena had bright red hair, gorgeous curls which surrounded her baby face and set off her dark eyes. Another of Tristan’s marks – they both had the same dark, ink coloured eyes. She’d got used to them on Tristan, but seeing those strange eyes on a baby had made even her feel slightly wary of Irena at first.

  Lily went to follow them, her boot knocking against the chess piece Jon had dropped. A castle. Later, Lily wouldn’t know why she stooped down and picked it up. Why, after running it between her thumb and forefinger, she would slip it into her pocket, not realising that it would be all that was left when everything else was taken from her.

  Chapter 2

  Labyrinth

  Lily traced her finger over the whorls of ink, each pattern different, marking a country or city that Tristan had visited in his lifetime at sea. Different cultures, religions, races – some forgotten by all but their traditions. It was his collection, his map of where he had been, so that he knew where he was going. She probably knew Tristan’s tattoos as well as he did; the spiral of Isdrah text on his shoulder, the bolder lines of the artistic Kolpichia tribes, the delicate western spirals on his forearm, interlinking with the trailing ivy of Wood-dwellers. And, if you knew where to look, a single Lily blooming amidst the spiralling intricate designs. The only other marks unrelated to his collection were for his children – around his elbow two wolf pups chasing each other’s tails, one white
and one black, for his sons, his twins. For Irena, a tiny fiery sun rested against his collarbone, the apex of his marks. If he carried on much longer there wouldn’t be any space left. But he’d been nearly everywhere by now.

  Her attention trailed from the tattoos to his bare torso, specifically the long jagged scar that sliced across his belly. He’d almost died from that injury. She stroked her finger along it absentmindedly. He twitched, Lily looked up.

  “That tickles.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I didn’t mean stop.” Tristan grinned wickedly all the more as she rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back the laugh as he grabbed her into his arms and rolled atop her. She stopped laughing as he paused, his arms braced either side of her head, his dark eyes serious. “You will be careful won’t you?”

  Lily snorted, “When have I ever done anything rash or irresponsible?”

  “I have a list.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Mhm.” He nuzzled at her neck, “It’s alphabetised.”

  She smiled at the man above her, Tristan, her husband. He looked much the same as he had when she’d met him, except he’d taken to wearing his dark hair a little longer, tying it at the nape of his neck when the wind picked up, and his jaw was now covered in a permanent stubble, though he kept it too short to be called a beard. Whenever they were upon her those eyes still made something inside her melt – so strange, so dark, endless pits of shadow, like tunnels. She could easily fall into them, lose herself in them. Though not the smoothest of relationships, their pairing had been foreseen, a wise woman Lily had met on their travels had hinted at that much: “One captain will become two, and then three captains must die.” The words haunted Lily to this day, despite knowing the prophecy had already come to pass and that the three captains were already dead.

  She’d told Tristan about it, once it had all been over.

  Every part of her life had been leading her to this, to Tristan, to the life they had now. Lily wouldn’t change a moment. But he was agitated, “What’s got you so worried?”