Page 27 of The Worst of Them

When it was time for supper, she helped Stede carry pots of stew to a table outside the galley where pirates lined up with bowls and cups. Armed with a dented ladle, she began serving them as they shuffled by.

Across the room, Jack stood in the shadows. His eyes were on Greyson who seemed wholly focused on Hester, who seemed wholly absorbed in her new husband.

Cecily searched for some morsel of herself that could be happy for them. It wasn’t much—just a dusty corner of gladness—but she found it, held down by a selfish cynicism she couldn’t shake even if she wanted to.

They would grow bored of each other eventually, and Cecily and Jack would get their friends back and have more reasons to avoid each other.

Morgyn swaggered by with Fiero, looked at Cecily’s ladle, and smiled. “You’ve been busy, little Ces,” she said, cloyingly sweet. “I didn’t know you could work standing up.”

Though Morgyn craved Cecily’s spilled blood, she would start with humiliation. It was her favorite way to bring someone low, crushing their spirit before sending someone else to go for the throat.

But Morgyn couldn’t break Cecily over something she’d never done, and if this was the chosen insult of the night, her crime remained a secret. Good.

Cecily smiled with all of her teeth, biting back her contempt. “Surprise.”

“Fresh air has been kind to you,” Morgyn said, overly friendly. “It’s made you so much less like a feral cat.”

She gripped the ladle and envisioned what it might be like to pick up the pot and beat Morgyn over the head with it. Instead, she braced her hands on the table and leaned over it with a maniacal grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m just so happy to be let out of my cage.”

Hostility strained between their smiles, but no one paid them any mind, eager for dinner as Stede carried on serving the others from his own pot.

Morgyn merely held her bowl aloft. Cecily ladled a serving into it, letting it splatter as she did. Once Morgyn and Fiero left for the main deck, Cecily set the ladle aside and flexed her hands to get them to stop trembling.

Monster, her memories whispered. Murderer.

She only needed to make it a little longer—keep to herself, take her money, leave this ship, and get to a place where no one would ever have to know what she did. A place where she could become someone like the girl she was before.

It was so close, so close she could feel her ultimate freedom like a tangible thing she might hold in a matter of days.

She kept serving, even as her back began to hurt. She wasn’t used to standing for so long, but she didn’t complain to the old cook, nor did she pause to lean or stretch.

Soon, she told herself. Soon everything will be better. A little longer, a few more weeks, a few more days, a little more pain, just a little longer⁠—

“You’re done when Stede says so.”

Jack stood on the opposite side of the table, the last one to get his supper. His face was set into indifference, and while she expected an insult or some scathing comment about being blissfully free of her for most of the day, none came.

The stew in her pot had dwindled, and her ladle scraped the bottom. After dumping most of the remains into Jack’s bowl, he strode away.

Almost immediately, Stede appeared beside her with a clean bowl. “Go,” he said, pressing it into her hand. “Eat.”

If her body didn’t ache so badly, she might have insisted on staying to help him clean. But he was a lot spryer than she was at the moment, and a lot more determined, so Cecily poured what was left in the pot into her bowl, filling it only halfway.

Stede’s lips twisted, and he took her elbow to gently tug her toward his pot. “Take more, girl. You’re starving, and I’ve got plenty more over here.”

As much as she would have liked to acquiesce, she shook her head and told him quietly, “I’ll puke if I eat any more than this.”

He sighed and looked her over. “Eat more when you can. There’s enough for you.”

This small man had somehow managed to touch a long-dead corner of her heart in a matter of hours. In another time, she might have hugged him, but she only gripped her bowl and thanked him.

When she turned, she caught the flicker of Jack’s coat disappearing from view as he mounted the steps.

Her cheeks flamed. No doubt he’d heard Stede imploring her to eat, and it would be one more thing he might needle her about. Another insult he could use against her.

She dragged her feet to the steps and climbed up to the crew’s quarters and then to the main deck above that. Everyone was gathered under the stars, lanterns casting the deck in a golden glow.

“Cecily!”