^“You’re not meant to be down here,” I say before I lean back and throw a dagger into the wall opposite me. The storage room I’m in is at the bottom of the ship and full of boxes. They mainly have weapons in them and cannons in case a ship targets us. That’s very unlikely, and we haven’t used them in a long time.

“I’ve never been down here, and I got curious,” Cassandra replies behind me. I turn to see her standing close to the door to the storage rooms. She looks beautiful, as usual. Her dark-brown hair is down today, the braids undone other than the one that holds the feather. I remember when I first saw her. She was standing watching the people at the party, not aware that every man’s eyes were on her. I watched her dance with her friend. When her brown eyes met mine, I felt something; something more than just a base attraction. I felt drawn towards her. I was more surprised to learn how her personality is almost as attractive as her looks.

“It’s still not safe, pretty girl,” I say and walk over to the wall. I pull out the four daggers in the bullseye painted on the wall of the ship. The walls are thick enough to do this down here and know there is no chance of making a hole. I place the daggers on top of a barrel next to me.

“Show me,” she nods towards the wall. I simply smile slowly as I look over her body. The shirt she is wearing shows off way too much of her chest, and her breasts move up and down with each breath. The trousers are tied at her waist, showing her small waist and toned legs.

“Go and stand in front of the target, and I will show you,” I challenge her. She won’t do this if she doesn’t trust me. I know I wouldn’t hit her, I’m too good and have been doing this as far back as I remember. My father was a personal guard for the King, and my mother was a maid for the Queen. I grew up bored in the castle, and my father gave me daggers to practice with. My father is known for being deadly with his aim and never missing, something I have inherited from him. Cassandra doesn’t move, and I lock my eyes with hers.

“Trust me?”

“Says a pirate,” she says back, with a hint of humour in her eyes. I watch as some kind of decision crosses her eyes, and she moves towards the target. Cassandra stops next to the wall and pushes her back against it.

“Don’t move,” I say, picking up two daggers off the barrel.

“Don’t hit me,” she says.

“I would never hurt you, pretty girl,” I say and flip the dagger in my hand and throw it. It lands right next to her arm, but doesn’t touch her. I quickly throw the next one, and it lands next to her other arm. Boxing her in.

“Impressive,” she says, sounding breathless as I walk towards her. Cassandra isn’t a short woman but I am very tall, so I still have to look down when I stand in front of her. She can’t escape with the daggers caging her in, but she doesn’t look like she wants to.

“Can you fight?” I ask her, wondering if her parents taught her that.

“A little, but I only used to fight against my friend, who wasn’t good or interested in fighting. My teacher didn’t know enough, and my father wouldn’t spend much time bothering to teach me,” she admits to me. I don’t know why she seems to be embarrassed about that, but the slight blush on her cheeks as she looks down suggests she is.

“Your mother?” I ask carefully when I see a wave of pain cross over her eyes as she looks up.

“She died giving birth to me,” she says eventually, after a long silence. I feel like she didn’t want to tell me that.

“I’m sorry,” I say, running my finger down her cheek, and she tenses up.

“All of you, you touch me like you personally care about me. You all have these nicknames for me and look after me. I don’t get it. I don’t get you,” she says. I swallow the urge to ask about the others and how close she is to them.

“I do care about you, pretty girl,” I say, and she watches me.

“Do you care about all the girls you bring on the ship?”

“No,” I say, and the word hangs between us. I move away, pulling the daggers out of the wall and walk back to the barrels.

“If you ever want to practice fighting, I could help you.” I tell her, and she walks past me towards the door that leads to the stairs.

“I’ll think about it, pirate,” she says.

“And, I will think about you, changed one,” I say, and she laughs as she walks out. I smile to myself, knowing all I have done, since I met her, is think about Cassandra.