Daughter of the Pirate King

VORDAN HAS ME CHANGE myself for each of his men. In turn I play the parts of a whore (for Niffon likes a woman who knows what she’s doing), an innocent country girl (Cromis likes corrupting innocence without consequence), and a married woman (because Theris likes the danger and secrecy of an illicit affair).

I’m kept in the cage. Thankfully, the men aren’t allowed to touch me, but I want to punch myself for the foul, coy, and suggestive comments I’m forced to utter. The entire time I’m performing my act, Vordan stands there with his infernal paper and charcoal, making notes as I go.

I vow to shred that parchment so none can read the things I’m reduced to say and do.

“You may stop,” Vordan says after what must have been fifteen minutes of talking to Theris. “Don’t bother reading me. I have seen enough.”

Theris looks questioningly at Vordan. I must be giving him a similar look. If there’s anything that would have made me want to continue using my—as Vordan so elegantly put it—seductive powers, it was telling me not to read him.

I can read Vordan’s desires as though they’re written on a board above his head.

“Oh,” I say, “I can see you wouldn’t find me appealing no matter how I acted.”

Previous to this moment, Vordan has regarded me with nothing more than a pleasant interest, but now he looks at me as though I’m some vile creature he’s found sticking to the outside of his ship. He draws his sword and advances toward me.

“What are you doing?” Theris asks. “Captain?”

Vordan, called to his senses, sheathes his weapon and returns to his parchment.

I’m still stunned. Not because Vordan only likes the company of men, but because I’ve never had to use my abilities on his sort. I didn’t realize there are men out there who are immune to that particular talent of mine. And knowing Vordan is one of them makes the cage around me seem more solid somehow.

“That’s enough for today,” Vordan says. “Grab the boy and supplies.”

Niffon and Cromis start to move while Theris looks disapprovingly at his captain.

“I said to grab the boy, Theris!” Vordan repeats.

Theris hurries to comply while Vordan sizes me up one last time. “We’ll be back tomorrow. I suggest you prepare yourself for another rough day ahead of you.”

At my scathing look, he adds, “Don’t worry. We have weeks of fun ahead of us, you and I.”

Once again I feel my last meal climbing up my throat, but I manage to keep it down as I watch all the men retreat, carrying Riden’s limp form away with them.

Weeks?

Weeks?

Vordan didn’t leave me much time to think of a way out of this while he put me through test after test, but now desperation sinks in.

I have to find a way out.

I can’t reach any of the surrounding trees. On the ground, there’s nothing but tall grass and sand. A rock here or there. Nothing helpful for getting out of a cage.

I have nothing else except the clothes on my back. Useless, all of it.

They can’t keep me in this cage forever, can they? Eventually they have to let me out to—to what? Eat? They’ll feed me through the bars, no doubt. Relieve myself? Not a chance. Vordan has already been extra careful thus far. He’ll no doubt expect me to go in a corner of the cage.

It’s a strange thing realizing all you need is to eat and drink and you will go on living. You don’t need to interact with others. You don’t need to move, run, walk. You really don’t even need to sleep. I can be trapped forever and go on living.

There were some days, shackled deep beneath my father’s keep, when I thought that might be my life. I would live as an eternal prisoner. I refused to use my powers back then. I pretended they didn’t exist. It was only when I was faced with being trapped forever or using them to escape that my father could coerce me into using them.

In the present—though I’m still hesitant to use them—I will use my abilities to survive, but they’re not even an option now.

And what else do I have? Nothing at all.

Wait. No.

I have Riden. But what good is he, being injured and isolated at the moment?

I think on this as hard as I can. My mind is working so tremendously, I don’t even realize when my thoughts turn into dreams. I see myself looking through the bars, watching Theris take blood from Riden as he attacks him again and again. First with his fists. Then with his sword. Finally, he pulls his pistol from his belt, puts it flush against Riden’s head, and fires.

*   *   *

The shot rings through the air, shaking my whole body. When my eyes fly open, I realize it’s not the sound of a gunshot I hear, but someone banging against my cage with a sword.

Cromis steps away from me quickly once he sees my eyes opening.

“Alosa,” Vordan says, “are you ready to start another day?”

Riden is alive, though bloodied from yesterday’s injuries, lying before me on the ground. He looks up at me and smiles.

Why is that idiot smiling? There is nothing to be cheerful about.

Call it what you will: confidence or conceit. But if I haven’t thought of a way out of this, there’s no way he has.

“Couldn’t sleep, I was so excited,” I say, deadpan.

“Glad to hear it,” Vordan says, unfazed by my sarcasm.

The setup is as it was yesterday. Niffon and Cromis have their buckets back. Theris leans against a tree lazily, one hand on a pistol pointed at Riden, the other rotating a coin around his fingers. Vordan stands straight and sure, muscled arms grasping his parchment and charcoal. A bulge in his pocket reveals he has the map on him again, no doubt so I can be smacked in the face with his victory. I’m proved correct when he catches me staring at it and smiles.

Exhausted and aching from sleeping in a cramped cage, I look downward as I rub my eyes. A piece of fruit and slice of bread sit next to a wooden cup filled with water. Cromis must have dropped them in before waking me.

“Did you get anything to eat?” I ask Riden.

Vordan answers for him. “The boy is to be kept weak. You, however, need your strength. I expect a full day of theatrics, so eat up.”

I poke at the food in front of me distastefully. What if he’s drugged it?

“You have exactly one minute to eat that before I order Theris to shoot Riden.”

“Do take your time,” Theris adds. “It’s been a while since I’ve shot something.”

I sniff the bread. Doesn’t smell funny, but if the alternative to eating it is watching Riden get shot, do I have much of a choice? I make a face as I bite into the fruit. It’s not quite ripe. I swallow large mouthfuls in an attempt to avoid tasting too much. When I’m done, I rub my tongue against the bread as I chew, trying to scrape the taste off.

Riden watches me eat, smiling all the while. He had better have a plan and not simply be enjoying the fact that I’m stuffing my face for him. Otherwise, I’ll have to let Theris shoot him.

When I’ve swallowed the last morsel, I wash the scanty meal down with the water. Since it’s freshwater, it does nothing to restore my song, but I need to drink just as much as regular humans do to survive.

Vordan and Theris start discussing their plans for today, momentarily taking their attention away from me and Riden.

Riden makes a flicking motion with his hands, catching my attention.

He’s moving his lips.

I glance over to the men in front of the buckets. They’re watching Riden, but their heads are inclined toward Theris and Vordan’s conversation. They can’t be paying much attention to us.

“What?” I ask Riden, barely a whisper.

He repeats the motion. This time I have no trouble reading it. Get ready.

For what? I mouth back. What could he possibly do?

This time he chances a whisper. “Remember our sword fight?”

I nod. He was a cocky idiot, allowing himself to get hurt so he could win. What does that have to do with anything?

Now, he mouths.

I tense, though I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

And Riden, who is unrestrained, yet injured, leaps forward toward Niffon’s bucket. He cups his hands in the water as a shot goes off.

Smoke billows out of Theris’s pistol. Riden collapses to the ground, holding his hands above him, trying to preserve the water cupped so carefully.

But Niffon finally jumps to action, slapping Riden’s hands to force the water to the ground. He wipes Riden’s hands on his own pants before tossing him back toward me, away from the water.

“Idiot,” Theris says calmly. He begins reloading his pistol, applying more powder to the weapon and lodging in another iron ball.

“You idiot,” I repeat, not caring if the others hear me. “This whole time I’ve been making sure you don’t get shot. Shouldn’t have bothered.”

Riden’s grasping his leg, just above his knee. His voice is heavy. “I’ve never been shot before. It sort of hurts … a lot.”

I know exactly how it feels to be shot. It feels as you would expect it to. Like iron is splitting your flesh at lightning speed and wedging up against your bones.

“Try that again,” Theris says, “and you’ll feel it twice as strongly.”

“At least they didn’t kill me,” Riden says, ignoring Theris.

“Except now you can’t walk.”

Once Theris has his weapon reloaded, he turns back to Vordan as though there was no interruption. Niffon and Cromis are much more alert, hardly taking the time to blink as they watch Riden and me.

“That was your brilliant plan?” I ask. No one seems to care that we’re talking now. Riden’s injured past the point of usefulness, and I’m locked up. We’re hardly a threat.

“Yes,” he says, swallowing a moan. “But it needs some refining.”

Before I can ask what he means by that, he’s crawling back toward the buckets, dragging his injured leg behind him.

Everyone halts what they’re doing and stares at him.

“Look at that,” Cromis says.

“Doesn’t give up,” Niffon adds.

“Riden, stop!” I finally find my voice, but he seems to have lost his senses entirely. Doesn’t he realize they’ll kill him? At the very least he’s going to get shot again.

He ignores me, pulling himself onward. He’s almost reached the buckets.

I hear the pistol cock back. Theris takes aim and fires.

Riden gasps before his body collapses, his head falling right into the bucket.

Niffon hauls him out and tosses him back toward me.

Riden’s eyes are closed. He’s not breathing. I search all along his body, trying to find where the shot struck him. Finally, I see another blood-soaked hole. Theris got him in the same leg, this time below the knee. It looks like the second shot missed the bone, streaking clean through the muscle on the side of his calf.

“Boy’s got a death wish,” Theris says.

“Should we kill him, Captain?” Cromis asks.

“Yes, kill him.”

Niffon and Cromis stand. I fight furiously against the bars, willing them to bend. I don’t want to watch Riden die. I don’t want—

Riden lifts his head. I try to touch him, but he’s just out of my arm’s reach.

He smiles.

Cocky, little— Wait. Something’s off. His face. His cheeks are too round. He looks like he might heave.

But when he opens his mouth, it is not vomit that comes spewing out. No, it’s seawater. He shoots it out into my waiting hand.

“No!” Theris shouts, but it’s too late. He can’t reach for his wax faster than I can sing.

I pull Theris, Cromis, and Niffon under immediately. Where is the key? I demand of them. Theris instantly pulls the large bit of twisted metal from his pocket.

I give him an illusion. It’s completely dark. He can’t see a thing except for the lit match in his hands. He needs to light the candle if he wants to erase the darkness, if he wants to feel safe and calm. I am the candle, and the key to my cage is the match.

I wince as Theris knocks over the second bucket of seawater in his haste to reach me. Had I paid closer attention, I could have swerved him around it, but right now I’m going for speed rather than accuracy. The water soaks quickly into the ground. It will be long gone by the time I make it out of here. I’ve only got what Riden managed to get to me. I’d better make it count.

As Theris approaches, I send Cromis and Niffon to keep Vordan busy. I can only enchant three at a time. Vordan quickly stuffs the wax back in his ears before fighting for his life, one against two.

Riden’s breaths are short and quick from where he lies on the ground. I wrench the key from Theris and send him to fight Vordan as well while I unlock the cage.

Vordan, deciding he can’t possibly best three men at a time, turns around and runs for it.

I demand a pistol from Cromis, who is the nearest with a loaded gun. He rushes over, pulls the weapon from his side, and offers it to me. As I hold the pistol out in front of me, I slow my breathing and take aim at Vordan’s back. Right where the heart rests under his skin. It’s difficult because I now have to make the ball dodge Theris and Niffon.

Get out of the way! I order the two of them. As soon as they both leap aside, I fire.

The shot rings out and Vordan falls.

Riden coughs. “That was impressive, but you were wrong. I’m still the better shot.”

I toss the gun aside and turn to him. I’m unable to say a word to him because I have to keep the other three occupied with my voice, but I still shake my head at his ridiculous claim.

He asks, “Can we go now? I’m sort of bleeding over here.”

I shake my head once again, this time with determination. Oh no. I’m not finished with these three yet.

I quickly reach Vordan’s body. Once I do, I pluck the paper detailing out my abilities from his greedy paws and tear it to shreds. Then I wrestle the map encased in glass from his pocket and place it within my own.

With that done, I take the sword from his side and turn toward the remaining three men. I have no qualms about slaughtering them while they’re helpless. They were prepared to do the same thing to me.

But then another thought strikes me. What about Vordan’s map?

I turn back toward his body and search him thoroughly.

The power of my voice is running out, but the map has to be right in front of me. I can’t stop now. If I gave both maps to my father at the same time … I can only imagine how pleased he’d be.

I pull off Vordan’s breeches and shake them out, praying to the stars that a slip of paper will fall out of them.

“What are you doing?” Riden asks weakly from far behind me.

My guess is he knows what I’m doing but is startled by the manner in which I’m doing it. I haven’t the time to search Vordan carefully, and I don’t see why anyone would feel the need to. I hope wild animals feast on his rotting flesh.

When I don’t find the map on him, I kick his limp body.

Bastard must have it on his ship.

That’s when the last of my song leaves me.

With Vordan’s sword in my hand, I turn toward the three men who have regained their wits.

“This should be fun,” I say.