Drew Knight walked down the rickety staircase eaten away by weather as if it belonged to him. As if this ship belonged to him. In a way, it did now. He had attained it through his own means; the crew that manned this ship had been surrounded by Drew’s and their captain had been captured. Drew could walk freely, speak freely, without consequence. And he intended to do just that with the captain of this ship, Mister Hector Sampson.

As Drew strolled down the hallway, water dropped in multiple places from the deck above him and stopped in front of a door. The galley—a large room meant for cooking and preparing the food—had a heavy, musky scent to it, like raw meat that had been left out in the sun. Across from the galley, Drew assumed the crew's quarters was placed. There was no door handle to the room but a powerful smell pierced his nostrils: blood, vomit, piss, shit, and sweat, as well as that strong aroma of man.

Drew glanced over his shoulder to look at Kelia. Her colorful eyes were narrowed, her hand at her hip, hovering just above the hilt of her blade. She always seemed prepared for the worst.

He couldn’t blame her. She had been through a lot the past three months, what with her father being murdered, the Society being behind his death, being whipped multiple times for her relationship with Drew, and then being sentenced to a breeding program created by her father where she was nearly raped by vicious Sea Shadows, all in the name of science.

Her body was stiff, her shoulders square and tense. He could tell she was trying to hold something back. The careful way she stepped, the blunt flare of her nostrils, told Drew she was still recovering from her queasiness. She endured a lot just to be with him, to be part of his crew, and she never complained about it. Gone was the girl he had met who could not hold her tongue if it would save her life. Gone was the girl who had complete and utter faith in the systematic group who helped raise her. Replacing that naive girl was a stoic, jaded woman with scars down her back and hardness in her eyes.

Perhaps, in time, there would be a way to find a balance between the girl she was then and the woman she was now.

“You all right?” he asked. He needed to hear her speak. Needed to hear himself how she was feeling. Kelia had never been good hiding her emotions, but it was important to Drew to hear what she felt, even if it was a lie.

Kelia smiled, and Drew could tell it was forced. Her eyes didn’t light up the way they normally did when it was genuine.

“I will be, once we get back to the ship,” she replied.

Once she got more of Emma’s concoction.

Drew instinctively reached out to touch Kelia, to place his hand on her back, but stopped himself. He couldn’t show any affection to her. Not in public. He refused to let anyone find out what Kelia Starling truly was to him: Drew Knight’s only weakness. Even a simple touch of reassurance could reveal how much she meant to him, and he could not allow anyone to find out. If anyone knew, they could very well use her against him.

He’d had a moment of weakness regarding this woman only once. Back on Port George, when it felt as though the world was ending around them, Kelia had kissed him...and he had kissed her back. Everything slowed. Sounds faded. Nothing else mattered except her. Her lips. The way her body felt in his hands.

Even now, he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him, to touch her and kiss her the way he wanted to. But he refrained, and thankfully, she kept her distance. Acted as though that moment had never happened. For that, he was both saddened and grateful. She probably only kept her distance to protect herself, and Drew could not blame her. He had caused her a lot of pain and suffering already, and even here just being here, with him, was a death sentence waiting to happen.

For both of them.

“Your back?” He looked ahead, ripping his gaze away from her.

“Each passing day sees more relief,” she replied.

It was a canned answer, he knew. She hid more from him than even she realized. He had seen the scars that marred her back firsthand. If he had not gotten to her when he had, if she had not allowed him to administer Emma’s healing balm, she would probably be dead, either from bleeding out or from infection. Rycroft had made an example of her treachery by giving her ten lashes in front of the entire Society. Apparently, he was not finished after those ten, and he gave her ten more in her cell afterwards sans audience.

Drew was glad she had yet to master the art of hiding her emotions on her face even though it was a necessity of survival. He wondered if he lied for herself, if she believed her own folly, or if she did it to protect him. He knew it wasn’t his fault, that Rycroft was the beast who gave her those injuries, but there were times when he stayed up at night, staring at his ceiling, wondering if there was anything he could have done—

Drew curled his fingers into a tight fist to stop going down that dangerous road.

They had nearly reached the captain’s quarters. The double doors were slightly ajar. He knew his crew had infiltrated the room. The golden door knob was broken, cracks in the wood indicating one of his men probably broke the lock with a snap of his wrist. He hit the door open with his fist, not bothering to hide his entrance in Hector Sampson’s quarters. The small footsteps behind him indicated Kelia followed him inside.

Hector Sampson was a man known to favor luxurious things. He might not put coin into his ship or on the backs of his crew, judging from the way the clothes hung off some bodies in tatters, but he certainly spent his share on his quarters.

Stepping into the quarters was akin to stepping into a throne room. Artwork hung behind the four-poster bed. The charcoal-black sheets were silk. Everything in Hector’s room was pristine, save for the bloody linen crumpled onto the wooden floor, just next to the bed. Draw raised a brow, wondering if Hector was just a sloppy eater or if there was something else that had happened.

Besides that, a trunk filled with clothes was nailed to the floor, against the foot of the bed. There were no clothes tumbling out of the chest, not like back in his quarters. In fact, the more Drew stared, the more he noticed that even the wooden floor was swept up. There was a bookshelf filled with books that Drew would be surprised if Hector actually read. Not to say he was unable to read—the Queen rarely accepted Shadows who were not witty, clever, or intelligent—but Hector did not have the drive to attain more knowledge. At least, that was what Drew remembered of him.

There was a circular-shaped window on the opposite side of the room, letting in the glow of the moon outside. Hector himself sat on a large chair with cloth fitted to the back—a deep purple color, probably a reminder that Hector considered himself a royal. Just because he was one of the Queen’s favorites did not mean he was special, but he seemed to forget this lesson. The Queen had particular preferences at particular times. When she tired of one of her children—which was often—It was not long before that Shadow was replaced.

Two of Drew’s men stood on either side of Hector, simply watching the man struggle against the confines that kept him in the chair. Drew took a step toward Hector, not bothering to hide the amused smile from his face. It seemed his crew had tied Hector to his precious chair with the gold-colored tassels ripped straight from his bed.

Hector stopped struggling the minute Drew’s shadow crossed his body.

“You.” The word came out ragged, like a rusted dagger, and Hector’s dark blue eyes narrowed at Drew. “I heard stories, I just never expected...”

Drew grinned. “And here I thought you knew me so well, Hector.”

He stopped at Hector’s desk and looked at the fruit bowl. He pulled up a bushel of grapes, inspecting them for freshness. He didn’t need to eat human food to survive, but he never lost a taste for it, even after all this time.

“But you wouldn’t steal from me. Wouldn’t hurt me. We’re old friends.”

Drew winked before replying, “Drew Knight discriminates against no Shadow. I hate you all the same.”

Hector snorted derisively, and Drew looked away and back at the fruit. He set the grapes down, not trusting them, before picking up an apple. Apples were always a safe bet. Drew took a bite of the fruit, a drop of juice running down his chin.

“To hate your own kind,” Hector said, shaking his head. His auburn hair—scraggly and knotted, desperately in need of a thorough washing—fell into his face with every movement. “You’re a disgrace to your Queen.”

“If I’ve infuriated her, then I’ve succeeded,” Drew said.

He tightened his grip on the apple. Any mention of the Queen caused the good in his mouth to turn tasteless and the room to darken substantially. He disliked talking about the Queen and would rather not even think on her.

“You don’t infuriate her,” Hector snapped. His ugly face contorted into a scowl. “She cannot see anything save for how valuable you are to her. Perhaps she’s still a little in love with you—or, at least, one part of you, in particular.” His lips curled up, revealing rotted teeth, but Drew would not call it a smile. If anything, it was a sneer. “You can do no wrong. It is the human that she has her eyes on to extract revenge.”

Drew froze for a moment before placing the bitten apple back into the basket. He wiped his hands and attempted to appear nonchalant. If Kelia was not present, he might even rush Hector and demand to know what he meant by that. Instead, he paced around the large room, trying to keep things as neutral as he could while still extracting information.

Kelia had not moved from her spot by the doors, and he couldn’t blame her. Having been previously trapped with Sea Shadows who wanted nothing more than to ravish and violate her was not something she would soon forget. Ever since then, Drew noticed she always kept herself positioned near doors, always positioned to keep everyone in her sight at all times. And she wasn’t the only one. Daniella and Wendy acted similarly.

“There are plenty human acquaintances I keep,” Drew forced himself to say, placing his hand in front of him and curling his fingers as he paced so he could inspect his fingernails. “I am not sure who she is angry about on this day.”

“She knows about your Slayer, Drew.” There was no amusement in Hector’s tone. “And she is not happy you’ve taken up with her. You know the Queen is going to kill her, don’t you?”

“I don’t even know who ‘her’ is, and frankly, I don’t care,” Drew lied. “Now, let’s get on with this. We both know you’re not going to survive this raid, Hector. Your fat arse was too busy trading coin for this wretched poor man’s throne room as well as food for just yourself and barely any for your crew.” He dropped his hand and stalked over to the captain. “Where’s the map?”

Something flickered Hector’s dead gaze. “What map?”

Before Drew could respond, Hector coughed, a disgusting sound that produced dark blood from his mouth, which flew from between his teeth and landed on the floor. Drew made it a point to avoid stepping anywhere near the blood.

“You’re certainly not speaking of the Isle de Sangre,” Hector said tauntingly. “The island where the Queen was created, where she took over? The only place where you can actually kill her?”

Drew stopped pacing so he could turn to look at Hector. He was serious now.

“I will not ask again,” Drew said, dropping his voice. He slowly pulled out his blade and placed it against Hector’s neck. “Where. Is. The map?”

Hector laughed—a raw, broken sound. “You should know better, Drew. A blade can’t kill me.”

“I never expressly stated I want you dead, Hector,” Drew said, each word sharp and purposeful. He pushed the blade harder against Hector’s skin, until a trickle of blood pooled on the shiny blade. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t slice your throat open and watch you bleed out until you tell me where the map is. I’ve been to Harris and Wynan, and both have given me the same story: you purchased it using the loot you acquired legally from the East India Company. Which tells me you are working for them. Not surprised. Our Queen works with them as well. Now, Harris and Wynan may both be cheats, but neither are liars. Both have said you have the map.”

“Give me a taste of your girl, and I’ll give you whatever you want,” Hector replied. Now he was smiling.

Drew snarled and sliced his throat. Both of his crew members jumped to attention, but then seemed to freeze, mouths hanging open as if surprised. Drew had surprised himself. Typically, he was composed and dangerous, not passionate and impulsive. Anytime someone mentioned Kelia, that seemed to change, though. In any given instance, he could not say if he would rage in response or if he would simmer until the opportunity presented itself. In this particular situation, with Hector, he raged. And now, the Shadow’s neck was crying tears of blood, ruining his crisp, white tunic.

Drew glanced to one of his crew. “Find the map,” he said. “It must be here somewhere.”

“Check the painting,” Kelia murmured, taking a step forward and motioning at the artwork hanging over the bed. Although she’d been around long enough to hear her share of threats, he could tell by the way her face had paled, it never got easier. “That piece of art doesn’t seem completely even. See how it’s distorted just there, as if something is bleeding onto the picture?”

Drew turned his attention to the painting and caught sight of what she was referring to. His eyes grew wide, but he quickly trained his expression back to a stony mask of indifference. Without even looking at the other Shadows, he nodded, and they went to retrieve the painting.

“What of Hector Sampson?” Kelia asked. The question was solemn, but Drew felt her step beside him, her eyes on the bloody mess in front of her.

“If he is not ash, he is still alive,” Drew replied. “Perhaps the birds will show him mercy and peck out his black heart. For now, we head back to our ship and study this painting. The rest of my crew would have removed the mast from our ship. We should be ready to set sail at once.”

Kelia nodded, and Drew watched as her gaze lingered on Hector Samson before she strode out of the room altogether. It was not long before his ears were met with the sounds of her spilling the contents of her stomach onto the ship’s deck. He needed to get her back on the Wraith now before she got worse.

And before more of the Queen’s men came looking for what became of Hector’s ship. It was no secret that the Queen had a bounty on Kelia’s head now, which meant they needed to act fast, or this mission could end badly for both of them.