Daughter of the Pirate King

RIDEN LEAVES TO FIND me some breakfast. Meanwhile, I ponder on my own stupidity.

Of course you would keep something so valuable on your person at all times.

After Jeskor died, his sons would have searched his body. They would have found the map. Draxen is one of the greediest men I’ve ever met. If he didn’t already know what the map was, he would have done everything he could to find out. And once he did—

Draxen’s despicable and abusive and manipulative. He’s the last thing I’d ever want to touch on this ship.

Perhaps that’s why I never thought to check if he carries the map on him. Of course he would. Where else would you keep something you don’t want anyone else to find? I’ll bet that’s the real reason why Riden and Draxen rebelled against their father, tried to take the ship, and ended up slaughtering the original crew. How could it be over anything less than the map that leads to the treasure of a thousand ages?

To think, I might’ve been so close to it so very many times.

But it could be anywhere on him. Any pocket on his coat, shirt, breeches. Even tucked into his underthings. Oh, I truly hope it’s not there.

Unfortunately for me, there’s only one way to find out.

I’ve no choice but to seduce the captain.

I hate doing that. But how else am I to get him alone? I could wait until tonight when he’s asleep, but I don’t want to waste what little is left of my song to keep him asleep. Draxen may be a deeper sleeper than Riden, but how could anyone stay asleep while someone is stripping them of all their clothing?

No, I need to act now. As soon as Riden returns.

I cannot risk getting to the checkpoint without already having the map to present to my father.

Time to use more of what Mother gave me.

*   *   *

Riden comes back with breakfast: more eggs. I eat quickly, then I tell him, “I want to go outside today.”

“Why?” he asks suspiciously.

“Because I’ve been cooped up in here like some child’s pet, and I want out.”

“If you’re out on the deck, the captain will expect you to work.”

“Fine.”

Riden fumbles with the empty dish in his hand but catches it before it connects with the ground. “What did you say?”

“I said fine. Is there something wrong with your ears?”

“I was under the impression you didn’t do anything that involved getting your clothes dirty.”

“I learned as a little girl that pirating means being filthy from time to time. You just have to be rich enough to afford regular bathing and several changes of clothes. Speaking of which, I want a new outfit.”

“But you’re going to get dirty.”

“I know that, but I’ve already been in this one for too many days.” Enwen’s been bringing me new clothes since I was moved to Riden’s room. It’s very thoughtful of him, but I don’t have the time to wait around for him to decide to bring me more. I need to be clean and fresh when I seduce Draxen.

“All right, I’ll go grab you something,” Riden says.

“No, I want you to bring all my things.”

He snorts. “Not a chance. Who knows what else you’re hiding in there? You’ll get one outfit and one outfit alone.”

Enwen didn’t grant that request, either, but it was worth a try.

“Fine,” I say, “bring me the green one.”

“The green one?”

“Yes, you’ll know it when you see it. And I want a fresh blouse and leggings.”

“Anything else? Some undergarments, perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t dream of giving you the satisfaction.”

He laughs. “You can’t exactly stop me, now, can you?”

He leaves much too quickly for me to believe he’s simply doing a lady a favor. Too eager, he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to listen to my arguments. Or it’s the thrill of going through my underthings.

“What is this?” Riden demands some time later. He doesn’t even bother to shut the door behind him when reentering.

“My clothing,” I respond. “Honestly, Riden, have you forgotten the names of—”

“No,” he says, cutting off my rather witty remark. “This is not clothing. This wouldn’t cover a child.”

“It stretches, you dolt.”

“Stretches!” he exclaims. “No. You will not wear this.” He tosses me instead a wad of purple fabric that he’d been holding in his other hand. It’s a corset, but this one is an over bust instead of an under bust. It’s complete with a hood and short attachable sleeves.

“Whatever did my green top do to offend you?” I ask.

“You’re not daft, Alosa. Do you think a single member of the crew would be able to focus on their duties if you wore that?”

That is exactly why I chose it. I need to get Draxen’s attention. He’s never looked at me as anything more than an inconvenience. Today that has to change, and I have to do it without wasting what’s left of my song.

He’s the captain, and I’m his prisoner. But I need him to look at me as more than that. He needs to be unable to see me as anything other than a woman. In that green assortment, it’s impossible to mistake the fact.

“That’s hardly my problem,” I say. “I want the green one.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“Well, you can’t have it. I’m tossing it over the edge of the railing.”

“Come now, Riden. That’s hardly fair.”

“You’re a prisoner. Nothing’s supposed to be fair for you.”

Fine, I will have to make do with the purple corset, but I can’t help but tease Riden a bit first. “Are you sure there’s not something more at work here, Riden?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you’re acting like a jealous husband.”

“A what?”

“You know, men that women shackle themselves onto.”

“Yes, I know what a husband is.” He clenches his fists and glares at me. He’s awfully handsome when he’s angry. “There is nothing to be jealous of.”

“So you’re saying that if I were to wear that top, it would in no way affect you personally?”

“Not at all.”

“Then there’s no problem with me wearing it, is there? Give it to me.”

He clenches his teeth. “No.”

I suppose I will have to rely more on body language, but I think it can be done. With some men, I can catch their attention in a potato sack.

Draxen seems smart. Smart enough to realize if I’m trying too hard. This will have to be done very carefully.

“Fine. Leave so I can change. Or will you be unable to handle knowing I’ll be naked in your room?”

I’m baiting him, and he knows it. I’m impressed he manages another glare before slamming the door.

With expert fingers, I lace on the top and attach the sleeves. They curve out into points above my shoulders. I put on the hood as well. If I end up doing anything too embarrassing, it might be nice to have something to hide my face behind.

Riden did indeed bring me underthings. I try not to think about the fact that he touched them while I slip on the rest of my clean clothes. It’s amazing what a new outfit can do for my spirits.

I emerge from Riden’s room a new woman—free of snark, attitude, and morals. Everything I assume Draxen is attracted to.

Time to play.

I’ve spent so much time around pirates that I’ve adopted my own sort of swagger, but that is not my natural inclination when I walk. Sirens are creatures of grace and beauty. They’re more driven by instinct than learning and habits. I tap into that side of me, that place that I usually hide.

I suppose I don’t really need the green top.

In this form, I can sense exactly what men want. And I can be that for them in order to get what I want. They can’t hide their emotions from me. Each one swirls around them in a haze of color.

Each step on the deck is soft and graceful. My movements are fragile and angelic. My face is devoid of the intelligence lurking in my mind or the thieving force that drives me. I can feel each fragment of the wind as it slides along my skin. I can feel the salt in the air. I can feel each strand of hair on my head, sense the movements of those around me.

Sirens are creatures whose sole existence depends on enchanting men. I can switch over to that nature effortlessly, but I loathe it. I don’t feel like myself.

I live on the cusp of two worlds, trying desperately to fit into one.

Heads turn as I exit Riden’s quarters. I pretend not to notice. “Where would you like me?” I ask Riden. My voice has softened, taking on an almost musical tone. But I’m not enchanting anyone with my voice. I can’t control more than three at a time. It wouldn’t do me any good on a ship with so many men, even if I had enough song in me. Probably shouldn’t have put so much into Riden the other night, but I couldn’t resist once I’d started.

Riden’s mouth drops open after I speak. He looks at me as though he’s never seen me before. In a way, I suppose he hasn’t. My appearance hasn’t changed at all, only the way I hold myself. The way I act, speak, move. I’ve taken on my siren nature, and while I look the same, the men can still tell something is different, and it piques their interest.

“What’s going on? Why has everyone stopped—” Draxen now looks my way. For a moment he is caught like everyone else. I lock eyes with him. Showing my interest in the subtlest of ways. He shakes his head as though catching himself out of some sort of daze. “Get back to work or there will be lashings for everyone. Riden, what is she doing on my deck?”

Riden, too, shakes himself out of the momentary stupor. “She’s opted to work on the deck rather than rot in my quarters. I think she’s getting a bit restless, Captain.”

Draxen eyes me carefully. I give him a gentle smile that makes him swallow before speaking. “Did the chains make you change your mind, then, princess?”

“Yes, Captain.” No sarcasm. Just sincerity. And innocence. Submissiveness. I try not to cringe as the word enters my mind. Horrid word, that one. But it is what I must be if this is to work. For my father, I’m willing to become everything that I hate.

Riden and Draxen both pause as though they’re waiting for me to say more. Ah, they’re waiting for the smart comment that is sure to follow. Let them wait. Siren Alosa is the promise of a man’s fantasy. Right now I’m tuned into Draxen, trying to become his.

Riden turns to Draxen as though he will have some sort of answer for my behavior. If I weren’t so in tune with my role, I would laugh.

Draxen is seeing me anew. He sees my weakness as his strength. I am something to be dominated. Something to be controlled. Draxen likes corrupting innocence. I’m hardly innocent. I’ve killed far too many men to ever be thought of as that, but it’s all about perception.

A light red of interest hangs over the captain’s shoulders. It’s battling with the orange of indifference. Good.

And Riden—I turn toward him, reading his desires. He is not nearly as captivated by this form. Riden likes a challenge. He likes games. I’m not nearly as compelling for him like this. Interesting. Might make the deception more difficult, though. Currently, he’s surrounded by blue. Blue is confusion.

I’ve spent years trying to understand the meanings of the colors I see. I’ve had to ask pirates what they’re feeling when I’m like this, so I can associate words with what I see. It’s difficult, because people are less inclined to talk when they’re deep in emotion. But I’ve managed to fill in the gaps.

I wait silently. The embodiment of patience and tolerance.

Riden looks as though he’s about to fall over: He’s craning his neck so far, trying to make sense of what’s in front of him.

Draxen’s the captain, though. He has to set an example for the others, has to force himself to come to his senses more quickly. The man has a reputation to make, being the new and young captain that he is. Draxen is definitely the hardest mark on the ship.

Were we alone, he’d probably be on me within five minutes. It’s amazing the things people will do in secret, when others can’t see their actions. That’ll be the trick: getting him alone. And especially away from ever-perceptive little brother, Riden.

“For stars’ sake, someone hand her a mop,” Draxen says.

There are five men already at the deck, swabbing it with mops. The nearest pirate eagerly jumps forward and hands over his.

“Thank you,” I say as I delicately touch the wooden handle with my fingertips.

Every seaman finds himself swabbing the deck at some point. The task is one that must be done frequently to keep salt and excess water from building up. Never did care for it myself, but I can’t let that show now.

I start my task, moving the mop in smooth movements. I bend over farther at particularly tricky spots. Everything I do has a purpose. I’m aware of each movement I make and Draxen’s reaction to it. When fancy strikes, a man gets this notion in his mind that everything a woman does is for him. Right now this is true for Draxen. Though he tries to hide it, I know he watches me. He can’t make sense of the change, but he doesn’t think me that intelligent to begin with. And now his desire is growing, burning redder and redder.

“What are you doing?”

I’m pulled from Draxen’s emotions as Riden speaks. “Swabbing the deck.”

“No, not that. You’re being different.”

“Different how? Could you move over please? I need to get that spot.”

“See, now, that is exactly how you’re being different. Since when do you say ‘please’? And why are you moving like that? You look ridiculous.”

“You’re free to think as you like,” I say delicately, like it’s a compliment.

“Stop,” he says, dragging out the word.

“You don’t wish me to mop anymore?”

“I’m talking about your behavior. Cut it out. It’s … it’s … wrong.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“You’re attracting the wrong kind of attention on this ship, lass. It’s going to get you into trouble.”

“And what would be the right kind of attention? Yours, perhaps?” I can’t help but egg him on when he’s like this. Besides, I can still sense Draxen from behind me. I take a quick peek and see that a little green is weaving into his colors. Good. Draxen doesn’t like me talking to Riden.

“I didn’t mean—” Riden begins.

“Didn’t you, though?” I home in on him now. Focusing on his wants and needs. I can see into the deepest desires of his heart. “You long for happiness, Riden, but you don’t have the courage to go find it. You are strong and courageous in many ways, but when it comes to taking care of yourself, you’re weak.”

“Alosa,” Riden says, lowering his voice. His expression has turned to one of earnestness, and I can feel that he means whatever he’s about to say. “I’m sorry for what happened between us before—if that upset you. You don’t need to retaliate by doing this.”

“You think this is all for your benefit, Riden? How wrongfully conceited you are. It’s exhausting to fight all the time. I’m done with it.”

“Alosa, please. Can’t you see what you’re—”

“Riden!” It’s Draxen calling out.

Riden exhales slowly. Perhaps he can read his brother without any special abilities. “Aye, Captain?”

“Bring the girl up here.”

Riden doesn’t answer. He’s looking at me. I’m still focused on him. His colors are split. He’s torn between the loyalty he has toward his brother and what he feels for me. Two entirely different swirls of red—the hardest color to decipher. With most pirates, I can safely assume it’s lust. But it’s not the right shade for what Riden feels toward his brother. Or me.

Frustration is probably what it is.

“Riden!” the captain calls again.

“Coming, Drax.” To me, he says, “Here we go. Leave those behind.” He points to the mop and bucket.

I oblige. Riden holds out an arm, indicating that he wants me to go first. At least he’s not going to perform that dreadful upper-arm grasping bit that he is so fond of.

As we pass through the throng of working men, I spot Enwen, who is shaking his head and smiling. He’s impressed. Just as I admired his thieving abilities, he is admiring my own skills. Though I cannot read his mind, I can easily tell that he sees right through me. He may not know exactly what I’m doing, but he knows a fellow actor when he sees one.

It’s a quick walk along the starboard side of the ship and up the companionway. We stop at the aftercastle, near the helm.

“That’ll be all, Riden.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“Yes.”

“But she might—”

“I’m quite capable of handling myself.”

“Of course.” Riden descends the stairs again. He takes position at the other end of the ship, on the forecastle, where he can survey all the men and keep them in line. I note that he also has a clear view of us up here. Even from this distance I can read his colors. He’s black with a little green. Black is fear. Why should Riden be afraid?

“You are relieved, Kearan,” Draxen says. “Go fill yourself with drink.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Just keep her due northeast, Captain.”

Draxen takes the helm while Kearan leaves, giving me a bored nod as he swaggers on by. That leaves us alone on the upper deck. Of course we’re in view of most of the pirates. But they’re not able to hear anything that might be said. And I can tell that Draxen wishes to talk. Peculiar, that.

“Have you directed a ship before?” he asks.

“No,” I lie. It’s the answer he wants to hear. He’s a fool for believing it. I’m the pirate king’s daughter. Of course I’ve directed a ship.

But Draxen isn’t exactly thinking at his best right now.

He grabs my hand and leads me in front of him. I grasp two random knobs on the helm.

“No,” he says. “Put one hand here.” He moves my hand for me. “And the other here. There, doesn’t that feel better?” His voice is as commanding and firm as ever. He enjoys telling others what to do. It’s a good trait in a captain.

I can’t help but glance over at the other end of the ship. Riden hasn’t moved from his spot, and I can’t see his face to tell if it’s changed. But I can sense what he feels.

And he does not like Draxen touching me.

That makes two of us.

“Keep the bow of the ship heading northeast. The sun is close to setting, so see that it remains behind you on your left. Once it sets, we use the stars to guide us.”

It takes some effort not to roll my eyes. “Really?” It is an innocent question. Not sarcastic.

“Yes, we should all worship the stars. They are as useful as they are beautiful. Some never change position. They are constants in the sky. Without them, we would be lost.”

“Fascinating.”

He continues to prattle on. He prefers that I stay silent. I can feel it. This change in his attitude is not really a change. It is more of a performance. Everyone changes when they want something. And right now, Draxen wants me. How can he not? I’m giving him exactly what he wants. He can’t help but be pulled nearer and nearer. That darker, pirate nature is momentarily cast aside. He is trying to enchant me in the way I’m enchanting him. It’s a usual response. But it never works, of course.

I am always the one in control.