Page 11 of The Worst of Them

The blade found purchase. Jack spat a curse, releasing her to clap a hand over his cheek. She shoved away, twisting as she tipped off plank and plummeted toward the water. With only a moment to twist in mid-air, she aligned her body against the approaching surface and dove cleanly into the waves.

Salt water rushed into her mouth as she gasped at the icy chill. It soaked through her disgusting dress and into her bones, pulling away months’ worth of dirt and grime.

A fitting, if not unexpected, way to begin her life, she supposed, as the water pulled away the dirt, the stains, the smell, the bits of prison she was most eager to be rid of. She embraced it, frigid it may be, because for the first time in a long while, she felt alive.

She kicked upward, coughing as she broke the surface. Above, the gangplank between the two ships was empty. Jack must have stumbled back to his own crew and left her here.

No sooner had she thought it than Jack surfaced mere feet away with a burst of breath. He touched the gash in his cheek, and when his fingers came away streaked with blood, he leveled her with a murderous glare.

He growled, “You⁠—”

“Leave her, Jack!” came Copson’s angry shout from above. A ladder was thrown over the side of the Fortuna Royale.

“Best of luck,” Jack sniped at her, then began swimming toward the pirate ship with long, powerful strokes. He reached the ladder and pulled himself out of the water, climbing quickly up the side.

Slipping her shiv between her front teeth, Cecily followed, neither as strong or as fast as Jack, but the ladder neared, slowly but surely.

Behind her, something exploded on the prison ship. She flinched, ducking against the sound. In that moment of involuntary hesitation, she saw the tiny boat bobbing a short way away with a single man in it, his face red with tears.

A lone survivor to tell the story.

Her stomach turned. Whatever Copson had in store for her would surely not be so horrible as being left in a small boat in the middle of the ocean.

She swam faster. The Fortuna Royale was still well within reach, but it wouldn’t be for long.

Another explosion, louder this time, and she ducked as bits of ship went flying, sending debris raining into the sea. The Fortuna Royale picked up speed, making her swim against its wake, her heart pounding in her throat as she calculated the distance to the ladder.

She pushed herself faster, harder, forcing her weak body beyond what she knew it could do, because this was her choice. Now that she was allowed to make one, she wouldn’t miss it.

With a desperate kick, she surged forward and grabbed the ladder.

3

NO MERCY FROM DEVILS

She was alive.

How long that would remain true was yet to be determined, but for now, she was still here, still breathing, and she intended to stay that way.

Cecily’s limbs burned as she climbed, weak from disuse, scanty meals, and her furious swim. Dark water churned beneath her, promising to receive her body and soul if her arms gave out. Far above, Jack didn’t glance back to see if she followed. Once he reached the top of the ladder, he swung over the rail and disappeared, leaving her alone on the side of the ship.

Good. If he didn’t care to track her, she could probably scurry onto the ship unnoticed.

She kept climbing, one hand over the other as the wind pushed past, teasing her with the drop below as it clawed through her wet hair and made the ladder sway. But she would not fall, even as the thrill of the last half hour began to fade.

While piracy might be better than what she’d been headed for, she was fully aware she may have been trading one hell for another. A ship full of pirates might not be so different from a ship full of prisoners and guards, but with each shaking pull up the ladder, she bolstered herself with all she’d already faced and overcome.

The chance of a future, she reminded herself. She was doing this because there was some small hope of a life beyond prison and hard labor. And even as her body quaked, even as she doubted what laid ahead, she was invigorated by a power she hadn’t been allowed to own for months. It had only been one choice, but even so, if this was the way one decision could make her feel, how much better would her next choices be?

This was merely her first step toward freedom.

A minute later, she reached the top, but she paused when she could see through the balustrades. Though she’d accepted what lay before her, she wasn’t particularly eager to throw herself onto a pirate ship without first seeing what, exactly, she was walking into.

On the right was the bow, to her left was the stern with its raised quarterdeck and the helm. Underneath were two doors, one of which she assumed led to Copson’s quarters. She noted the position of the masts, crates, rigging, cannons, and places she might scamper and climb and hide.

As for the pirates themselves, while she might have imagined any number of horrors—regardless of the captain’s assurances—her brow furrowed at what she beheld.

All around, tender-eyed men mingled with newly freed prisoners who batted their lashes, flirted, and chatted with the men in such a way that looked…positively normal.