Pirate Lord Read online

  “Still asleep last time I checked – haven’t heard a peep from her as usual.” Jim had his feet propped on the table, his focus on the twins, smiling slightly as they came up with yet more gruesome creatures.

  “Thanks Jim, you can go now – I’m sure Tristan will want you for something or other, we’ll be coming into dock soon.”

  He hopped up from his chair and nodded to her, “Sure, no problem Lil.”

  Chop had started that particular nickname and it had caught on amongst her closer friends, though the rest of the crew referred to her as Tigerlily or Lily. She’d been born with just Lily, but after revealing her temper to the crew she had been given the name of Tigerlily. She still hadn’t managed to shake the nickname, she doubted she ever would, but she’d actually learnt to like it. She was known as Captain Tigerlily Wolf, or Captain Tigerlily. Normally captains were known by their surnames, but since Tristan had already hogged Captain Wolf, she went by her nickname, in true pirate fashion. Nicknames were important around here, if you got one that was it, you were stuck with it. Captain Tigerlily was a feared name these days, she’d made sure of that. Or her inner demon had anyway. She rose to her feet, and went to wake up Irena.

  Chapter 3

  Inked

  This harbour was like any other, a hubbub of activity, boats and people everywhere and never enough bloody places to moor up. Then again, these ships didn’t leave often. It was not a trading port, not with the labyrinth making access near impossible – these vessels were all for appearance. They were ancient, but expertly maintained. Only at the word from the Pirate Lord were they sent out. It was an unlucky merchant indeed whose path crossed one of these ships.

  The Island used to be an active volcano, thousands of years ago. It was long dead now, leaving just the ghost of the crater, and a fertile land for cultivating. Much of the higher slopes of the Island were reserved for growing, steps had been carved into the hillside to make it easier to farm the steep slopes. Any land flat enough for buildings had been developed and, over time, what had been a little town huddling around a fortified castle had turned into a bustling city, alive with lights and life. Well built, great oak beams and shinning white plaster, freshly swept streets with ordered cobbles showing off the wealth that the pirate lord held, huge houses that had stood for centuries under the protection of the reef and the pirate lord. This town had never fallen, never been attacked or plagued by war, never had to be rebuilt. The people who lived on the Pirate’s Lord Island tended to work for him, or be savagely loyal to him for their own purposes. They farmed the land, they worked in the castle. Visitors were rare, thanks to the labyrinth, and those that were born here tended to die here, trapped by the very reef that protected them.

  Perhaps trapped was being a tad melodramatic, but that was the word Tristan would use if he lived here, without leave of absence. He already had itchy feet, just knowing that the gates would be closing, that they were unable to leave without the Pirate Lord’s word. Still, he’d let Tristan leave once before, what was going to be different about this time? It would be fine, Lily would go to the audience with the kids, and that would be that. They’d leave, they’d go back to their lives. No bother. So why did he feel so bloody uneasy?

  Tristan oversaw as the crew knotted the final ropes, his arms behind his back, his tricorn hat and favourite coat marking him out clearly as the captain. Here, more than anywhere, he was keen to show off his status. The last time he had been here all he’d really been was a nameless pain in the ass.

  The planks were lowered and the crew gathered expectantly, waiting for her. Tristan sighed, drumming his fingers against the hilt of his sword.

  Irena was the first to appear, followed by Jon and Kris. He scooped his daughter up quickly before she could shoot past, ignoring the glare she directed at him. He did wish that the summons hadn’t specifically asked to see the children as well, but then orders were orders, and orders from the Pirate Lord weren’t to be ignored lightly. Tristan looked up expectantly at the meet room doors. “Boys where’s your ma?” he felt a growing sense of unease.

  The confusion on the twins faces said it all, “She left ages ago.”

  Tristan gritted his teeth, passed Irena to Kilo, and ran to the balustrade, looking out over the town. No sign of her. He punched the banister and took a deep breath before turning back to the crew. “Looks like you boys are free to go.”

  The crew dispersed. Tristan held a hand out to Jon and Kris and led them down the gangplank, followed by Kilo who still held Irena. He was one of the only ones she didn’t grumble about being held by. The boys tugged at their father, keen to explore this new land, but he held them fast. Stig, Chop, Daley, Eli and Jim were still loitering at the docks, clearly worried about their friend and captain. It was to them that he headed.

  Jim chewed at his lip. “Shouldn’t we follow her?”

  “Definitely not. We weren’t called to court, she was.” I just wish she hadn’t decided to disobey the Pirate Lord’s orders. He could only hope that she’d at least be polite. She was playing with fire when it came to Lord Merek. She would be wise to keep her distance. But whatever Lord Merek had called her for still troubled Tristan. It was not common for the Pirate Lord to call someone to court. There was always a reason. Tristan had spent every spare moment trying to figure out what it would be, trying to decide if it was some sort of trap. Only one possibility kept looping back to him. Maybe history was indeed repeating itself and Captain Tigerlily’s reputation was getting a bit too noticeable. If it was that Lily was getting too big for her boots then she was bound to get on the defensive. Tristan had tried to tell her. But then he hadn’t stopped himself either. He should have been warier. He’d been warned once. They now held control over an armada, not the biggest on the seas, but certainly one of the most responsive, the Pack, controlled by the Wolves. Though Lord Merek had his own armada, with ships far superior to their own – what would he want with theirs? And if he provoked her, if he angered her – what would she do to him?

  Stig’s face probably mirrored Tristan’s own. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not her wellbeing I’m worried about.”

  They all gave him a pitying look, and Tristan finally let go of Jon and Kris’ hands. With a nod from their father, they went skittering into town.

  Getting through the labyrinth had taken most of the day, the sun was low in the sky. He’d let the boys have a wander, get rid of some of their pent up energy, then they’d head back to the ship for bedtime. Lily could look after herself. He knew that. Tristan took his daughter back from Kilo and set her on the ground, offering her a hand to steady herself and slowing his pace to match hers. As they headed into town, Tristan didn’t notice that there was already one missing from their group.

  ~

  He’d told her to wear a dress, so she’d put on her Captain’s attire – an updated version from the getup Mrs Beets, a skilful seamstress and one of Lily’s few friends on land, had made for her six years ago. Her first outfit from Mrs Beets had been a maroon coat with tails, tall boots, a pale shirt and brown trousers, plus an assortment of belts for weapons. The belt remained, but Lily had adjusted a few things about the rest – the boots now stretched to her thigh, rather than just above the knees, and now featured a dangerously high heel. She could stab through leather with them, and indeed had done. A few years ago she’d have toppled over wearing shoes like this, but now she strode confidently in them, delighting in the sound of them slamming into the cobbles. They were dark brown leather, laced up at the back with leather cords of the same colour. Underneath she wore a pair of sandy coloured trousers, which strapped tight around her ankles. When on deck she often wouldn’t bother with shoes, and this was the only style she had found that didn’t get in her way. They were breathable and fit well under her boots. She now tended to wear black shirts rather than white ones – after years of trying to scrub out the blood stains. Black was far more practical. Strapped over this was a brown leather co
rset, which she didn’t bother to string tightly, it was mainly to keep the loose fabric of the shirt out of her way. Her coat was still maroon, but she’d adopted the style of Tristan’s greatcoat – although hers was fitted to her figure.

  People turned as she walked past, but she was used to that now. After years being an invisible barmaid, seen only when men wanted to leer at her or have her get them more beer, she was now a powerful woman, a Captain – everything about her said it. Even without knowing her name, some of the passers-by moved away from her as she grinned at them. They probably knew exactly who she was. Good. She liked to think she had less ego than her husband, but in truth it was hard to hold the title of Captain without developing at least a little swagger.

  Lily glanced back at the docks. The Shadow was completely out of view now, blocked by the houses around her. The collections of masts reached over the rooftops and were lost in the sun above. She wondered which one belonged to The Shadow. Lily felt a pang of guilt – she shouldn’t have left Tristan in the lurch like that, she knew she shouldn’t – but she hadn’t known what else to do. She also now regretted telling Eli to stay behind – he had offered to come with her. He’d probably have been able to keep hidden, Eli was good at not being noticed when he didn’t want to be. But she wanted to do this alone. She was the one who had been summoned, and she was not willing to put her children, or any of the crew, into the potential danger that could lie before her.

  The wind caught at her dark brown tricorn hat and she pushed it firmly back against her brow. The audacity of him, to expect her to dress up as he wanted her to. Bringing the children was never going to happen. She’d slipped out before Tristan could try to talk her into it, she knew he was more reluctant to break the Pirate Lord’s orders than she was. Tristan was probably the only person in existence who could successfully tell her what to do, and that was only because she loved him. This Pirate Lord was already in her bad books. She had the inkling that she wouldn’t get on with him particularly well. She was looking forward to meeting him very much.

  Lily kicked the doors open, ignoring the looks from the guards at the entrance – much use they were. It hadn’t been hard to find the castle; Tristan had given her vague directions but she’d found she didn’t need them, the castle was visible pretty much the moment you entered the dock. It was alongside the sea, not towards the back of the town like many castles were. The rather imposing wall around it had provided a momentary barrier, but she’d taken a grappling hook with her – just in case – and had climbed over it, landing nimbly on the other side. She could probably just have easily used the main door, she did have a summons after all – but that wouldn’t have been as interesting.

  It was worth it for that flash of surprise she clocked on the Pirate Lord’s face, before his expression settled into a self-satisfied smirk. The guards merely watched her as she stormed along the hall to where he sat, his attention already honed onto her. She stopped at the base of the dais, some part of her managing to restrain herself from skipping up the steps and lounging on the arm of the gilded throne that he was slouched in.

  Inside her something purred, she hadn’t had this much fun in years.

  The Pirate Lord was younger than she’d imagined, early forties perhaps – she’d been picturing him as a decrepit old man, all knotted beard and calculating eyes. She’d got the eyes right at least. They fixed on her as she halted. Halted but didn’t bow, didn’t even incline her head. They were the colour of honey, almost the same shade as his skin, framed by a darker ring of brown. A few wrinkles marred his face and his forehead and he had a thin white scar under his left eye. A navy longcoat was propped over his shoulders, under which he wore a dirty cream coloured shirt, dark trousers, and boots that looked like they’d seen better days.

  The shirt was unbuttoned, displaying a huge octopus inked over his chest, the tentacles disappearing over his shoulders, around his ribs and apparently along his arms – for on each of his hands the curling end of an octopus limb finished at his middle knuckle. One tentacle even wrapped around his neck. Lily had seen enough tattoos in her time to recognise it as expert dotwork, the black ink perfectly defined against his skin, each shadow and sucker perfectly framed, the eyes real enough that Lily wouldn’t be surprised if it blinked. His hair was golden, shoulder length, a lock of it slid over his forehead as he leaned down, his elbows resting on the arms of his throne, his chin on his clasped fists.

  “Well, well. You do like to make an entrance don’t you.” His voice was molten, deep and commanding. A man used to people doing what he told them. His lip twitched “I won’t insult you by asking if you read my little note.” He surveyed her brazenly, taking particular note of the clothes she was wearing.

  “I’m afraid dresses aren’t my style. And I don’t appreciate being told what to wear.”

  “No. I can see that. I assure you though; there was no need to come bristling like a porcupine.”

  She’d worn her full belt of daggers, her sword at her hip, both pistols clearly on display, and a pair of twin blades secured to her back. They had belonged to an old friend, Marco, a member of the crew who had left the ship after his twin brother was killed in a raid. He’d left them with her, asked her to look after them. That had been around six years ago now, before the children were born. Lily treasured them with her life – she still held on to the hope that one day Marco would return. They were normally displayed in the meet room. But for this, she decided they deserved an outing. “And demanding my children attend. I mean really, like I would bring them here without meeting you. I wasn’t born yesterday, Captain Merek.”

  “Lord Merek.”

  She ground her teeth together, “What?”

  “You will address me as Lord. It is my title after all.”

  Idiot, she’d let him have that respect, and he’d shoved it right back in her face. “You’re no Lord of mine, unless my memory mistakes me. I don’t recall swearing allegiance to you.”

  “No.” Merek purred, leaning back in his throne, “And that’s rather the issue isn’t it.”

  “You dragged me here to make me bow before you?” Her brow rose. She felt the anger rising up within her, and she sent it back, fleeing as if she had whipped it.

  He cocked his head, biting his lip, “Something like that.”

  The way he was looking at her, oh he would pay for that. Lily was so glad she hadn’t bothered meeting his demands. “I’m married.”

  “Happily?”

  Lily’s lip quirked at that, more of a snarl than anything else, “Yes.”

  Merek’s eyes did not refrain from undressing her. “More’s the pity. Still, you’re obviously someone who enjoys power. What was it you were before you married Captain Wolf – a slave wasn’t it?”

  “I am owned by no man, and nor have I ever been.”

  “I believe money exchanged hands though. And therefore my dear, yes, you are owned. Whether you like it or not.” He reclined back in his throne, his hands gripping its arms, his face slipping into shadow. The room was not particularly well lit, a few braziers lined the walls but they only made pools of orange that dented the darkness. The main sources of light came from the windows to the left of the room, three thin slits that let in uniform beams of light that striped the floor. The sun was low now.

  Lily tilted her head from the glare, her eyes focusing on Merek. “It may be easier if we just agree to disagree. Now, why did you summon me?”

  He smiled lazily, “Oh what’s the rush? I’ll get to that all in good time, Lily.”

  “Tigerlily.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged, enjoying that twitch that she spotted in his jaw. “Only those I trust can call me Lily.”

  “Oh, ouch – you don’t trust me Lily?” He hissed, leaning forward so that the light fell on him once more. His golden hair caught the last rays of the sun before it slipped below the reach of the windows. The room got dimmer.

  “Well you haven’t exactly done much to make me wan
t to.”

  “Come now – you and I are rather similar after all, we both enjoy power, we both don’t like people telling us what to do. We’ve both been at the hands of slavers.”

  Lily masked her surprise and looked closer at the tattoo that ran around Merek’s neck – yes, you could just about see the band of black that had been expertly covered by the octopus tentacle. He’d been banded. He’d lived as a slave. “It looks like you got further along than I did though. Let’s stop playing games Captain, what is it that you want of me? And what do you offer in return?”

  Merek shook his head, “Not tonight, you have arrived late – I’m afraid it is well past my bedtime.”

  She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, that familiar flame flaring slightly.

  He grinned at her, “I advise you don’t go back to The Shadow until I give you leave to do so.” Her outrage must have been plain enough, he didn’t give her time to reply. “I assure you I will not make empty threats. Please do use your rather open imagination, and I suggest, my dear, that you heed what I say – and do what I ask of you.”

  ~

  Lily slammed the door behind her, pacing the floor before launching one of her daggers. The hilt shuddered as the blade speared through the wood. She heard the servant that had led her to her quarters, or whoever he was, scurry away.

  She tried the handle. They hadn’t locked her in. But that didn’t mean much. Nor did she have a key or bolts to secure it from this side. Fine, she’d done without before, she could do without again.

  There was a tray of food on the side, a pitcher of water beside it. The room was ornately furnished, almost ridiculously so. Not to her taste at all; there was a massive mahogany wardrobe, a matching dresser and dressing table, an imposing four poster bed bedecked with billowing fabrics, and a hell of a lot of cherubs and gilded surfaces.