Princess at Sea (13 page)

As if sensing my fear, the animal screamed, sounding like a wounded child bent on revenge. I had no idea what it was, and tonight, I would be fighting it.

The sand had quickly gone cold under my feet after the sun
vanished behind the thick overgrowth. I was cold through my torn dress, and my arms ached with every involuntary shiver. They had let me hang, ignored while they roasted the goat they had slaughtered earlier, and the air of a drunken festival was thick and depressing. Fatigue had pulled my head down, and though I tried to doze, the pull on my back was enough to keep me awake—the pain was a throbbing ache radiating from my shoulders with every breath.

That the warships would find us was a thin, impossible hope. We could be anywhere, and the warships had been trapped behind the shoals until the tide rose anew, giving our abductors hours of sailing to hide themselves.

All of the crew but the few minding the ship and the three sullen men with Contessa and Alex were carousing at the largest bonfire. They had lit torches, putting one in the holder tied to a tree next to me so they could watch my reactions as they tried to outdo each other's boasts of their plans with me and how they would extract their revenge for the killed crewmen. The smoke from the torch kept the early insects from biting me too badly, and for that, I was grateful.

I must have fallen into a doze as a spray of sand against me jerked my head up. Captain Rylan stood at the edge of my circle where the rough grass grew, the bells on his boots chiming. His hand was on my rope tied to a nearby tree, and a black bottle was in his grip.

His coat was undone despite the cold, and his eyes were red-rimmed and sharp. With his stubbled face and slumped posture, his faded finery made him look twice as repulsive as if he had been in rags. My gaze lingered on the new gold glinting in the torchlight upon his collar and cuffs. It was Alex's, and I prayed he was still alive.

The ship's captain had been to bother me once earlier just after sunset, tense and fidgety when he made me read Contessa's note. In my sister's careful script was my past and my future, telling Kavenlow that we had been taken and if he sought us out or attempted a rescue, the royal couple would die. A second letter would be following to tell Kavenlow where they would meet to exchange money for the royals. My name hadn't been mentioned.

Now, as Captain Rylan stood before me taking a long swig of his bottle, he seemed much more relaxed, but he was clearly a good distance toward being drunk. The source of his mood was obvious. If the warships hadn't found us by now, they wouldn't.

“Duncan is intent on saving your life,” he said by way of greeting, his voice soft and precise, showing none of the rough street accent it had earlier.

A stab of hope followed by fear kept my mouth shut. I liked him better when he wasn't pretending to be anything but what he was—street filth.

He lifted the bottle again, and I licked my lips, eying it. No one had seen fit to give me water or food all day. Beyond him at the fire, the men became noisy. That Captain Rylan was talking to me had been noted, and they were turning to watch, shouting encouragement to bring me over and start the bidding.

“He says,” Captain Rylan continued when I dropped my head so my hair hid my face, “that he's only out for revenge, but even our good Mr. Smitty can see he wants you.”

Hungry, cold, and miserable, I shivered, and with that betraying me, I brought my head up and stared at him. Duncan was a good man. I wished I had trusted him with my secret. I wished I had said something so he would know it was my choice but not my desire to keep so much from him.

Captain Rylan pushed himself off the tree, and I twitched, a surge of fear bringing me out of my numb state. Pain radiated through me at the quick motion, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. The bottle under his arm, he untied the rope from the tree and hauled on it.

My arms jerked straight over my head. The rush of pain made me gasp. Grunting, he pulled again. My heels went up, and my shoulders flamed. Panting, I refused to make a sound. I hung with my toes dragging in the sand, trying to get a good breath of air into my lungs. My sight darkened, then steadied.
God, please make him stop.

Captain Rylan tied the rope off with a firm tug. “You wouldn't let him touch you,” he said, bells jingling as he came closer. “Maybe it's the want of what he hasn't had.”

My jaw clenched, and I tried not to twist as I hung. My shoulders were in agony, making tears start in my eyes. He stood before me, his ale-tainted breath reminding me of festivals at the palace. His beard was coming in white, and his tired eyes made him look old.

“It certainly isn't your looks,” he said, his gaze traveling over me.

“Your breath stinks like a chu pit,” I panted, breathing through the pain.

His expression never registered I'd spoken. “Oh, you're pretty enough,” he said. “But you aren't soft, and you don't have enough for a man to hold on to properly.” His eyes lingered on places that made a cold spot start in my middle. “Or maybe he likes 'em looking like boys.”

I said nothing, fear warring with insult and winning.

He tossed his bottle to land upright in the sand. Reaching behind him, he pulled on the rope running from the tree to over my head. I rose another inch, gasping as I swung into him. Pain went through my shoulders, but I brought my knees up, trying to force him away from me.

With a silent, aggressive intent, he sent his free arm about my waist, pulling me too close to fight. Shocked, I did nothing in the instant that he forced his lips against mine. Rough and ugly, his beard scraped me.

Panic broke through, and I fought to get free. His lips muffled my shout as I wiggled and twisted at the end of my rope, pushing away and kicking. Immediately he let go, falling back out of my reach. He had released the rope, and my toes were again on the sand. I stared at him, knowing I was helpless.

“Must be the thrill of the hunt,” he said, calm and unruffled. “It sure isn't you.”

I spat the hair from my mouth, hating him. Hating feeling helpless. Glad I was going to die from an animal rather than at the hands of a man.

He bent to get his bottle, drinking it to make his Adam's apple bob. Finished, he threw the bottle into the scrub behind me and pulled on the tail of the rope. The knot slipped free, and I fell to the sand with a small groan. Pain spread through me so thick and heavy I didn't even know from where it stemmed. The sand was cold, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down on it.

“Make a good showing, girl,” he said, jerking at my rope as if I was a dog until I wedged my knees under me and got up, trying to find my breath around the agony. “I've got half a year's money wagered on you,” he finished, pulling me stumbling to the bonfire.

A ragged cheer went up when the men realized I was being brought forward. Most were staggering drunk or halfway to it. Slowly my muscles remembered how to move, the pained stretching almost bringing me to my knees. I found Duncan at the edge of the gathering, deep in the shadows from the moon and fire with a full bottle in his grip. It was clear the crew didn't yet accept him. He looked worried, and he tensed as if to say something, held back by his deception.

Sun-browned hands reached to prod and pinch as Captain Rylan yanked me through the outskirts and into the brighter light at the bonfire. I took it without comment, my limbs tingling with renewed circulation. “Get your hands off!” Captain Rylan shouted when one pulled me shrieking into him. “None of that. You want her first, you will bloody well buy her first.”

Captain Rylan yanked me out of the sailor's grip, and I fell into his chest, forcing my first feeling of gratitude away. I would feel nothing. I had to feel nothing.

“Jest checking the goods,” the sailor whined, gaining a weak agreement from those nearest him. “We all gonna want a taste afore we buy.”

“I already tasted her for you,” Captain Rylan said. “She tastes fine.”

“We saw that,” a man with no shirt said, rubbing his lower chest and grinning. “She's kinda skinny. I like skinny.” He leered, chilling me. The tingle in my arms had worsened, and I shifted my shoulders to try to find a position that didn't hurt.

“I'll give three coppers for her!” someone shouted, and my face went cold. I thought I was going to fight that animal in the pit, not be sold.

“Me and Nate, we'll share. We got five between us,” another said, and my stomach clenched.
God help me, I can't do this!
I stared across the fire at Duncan, but he had turned away, terrifying me.

A thin, anemic sailor stood up, nearly falling. His neighbors laughed and propped him up until he found his balance. “I'll give you one for the sea whore,” he slurred. “That's all she's worth. Stinking little whore in a pretty—p-pretty dress.”

“She killed Garson,” said a high voice from the back. “Killing her is worth all I got. That's eighteen. Any of you got more than that?”

A sound of awe rose. “Where'd you get eighteen?” someone asked, and was shushed.

Standing with my feet in the fire-warmed sand and my hands numb and bound before me, I struggled to catch Duncan's eyes. His head was still down, his long brown hair hiding his face. He hadn't enough money to save me.

“Now trench your anchors and drop your sails, all of you,” Captain Rylan said, yanking the rope so my arms jerked and I almost fell. I submitted to it, vowing to remember everything. “I told you I tasted her, and she isn't much of a tumble.”

The catcalls were loud, making the animal in the pit scream. I found myself balancing on the balls of my feet, but there was nowhere to go. My pulse hammered, and I dropped back down.
Not a man. I can't fight a man. Not bound and made helpless.

Captain Rylan raised his hand, soothing them. “But what you all seem to want,” he continued, “is revenge. You can buy a piece of lace at Mad Mary's for half a coin, so it must be revenge, yes? You all buying a chance to mete out the punishment?”

They roared their answer, and I cringed. The short captain buttoned his faded coat and took on a more respectable air, my rope drawn casually through his arm as if I were an obedient dog.
Full circle,
I thought. Bought in the streets, raised to wear silk, only to be sold again. My life had come full circle; it must be over.

“I can sell her to one of you, and the one with the most money will be satisfied, or . . .” He hesitated and the voices of the waiting men stilled. My heart pounded.

“Or we can put her in the pit,” the man finished, a wicked, vindictive grin on his bearded face. My breath escaped me in a grateful heave.
God forgive me,
I thought when tears of relief started. There was something wrong in being glad to be thrown in a pit to die mauled by an animal. But I felt myself go white at the resounding shout simultaneously raised from every man but the one with eighteen coins. The call of “Put the cat with the cat” rose, was taken up, and repeated.

“And one of you,” Captain Rylan shouted over the tumult, “can even make some money off her if you're right in how long it takes for her to get the shakes and die!”

If I had thought they were loud before, it was nothing compared to the tumult that rose, drowning out the scream of the animal in the pit. Most of the men had stood, and I found myself shrinking back until I was almost pressed against Captain Rylan. Terrified, I looked past the ugliness to find Duncan, seeing only his bowed back. Fear gripped my heart. It had been his idea. Was it a chance to escape or simply a better way to die?

“I give her two minutes!” someone yelled, shoving a coin into Captain Rylan's hands. “One coin for two minutes.”

“I say thirty-eight,” the skinny drunk sailor said, lurching to fall and disappear behind the mass of men unnoticed.

“She killed Tom,” one missing all his front teeth said. “I say if you give her a sword, she'll last four . . . no, five minutes. Gilly lasted five, and he was drunk.”

“She's half Gilly's weight,” another protested, coming close and fingering my arm. I jerked away, and they laughed. “It will bring her down in half the time.”

“It will have to catch her first,” the first said. “I still give her five minutes.” He shoved money into Captain Rylan's hands. The small man handed my rope to Mr. Smitty—who looked bothered by it all—and proceeded to take everyone's money. His eagerness and greed made me sick, and I recognized the new, businesslike glint as he mentally matched money to faces and estimates of the length of my life.

My knees started to tremble, and the wagers continued around me. They ignored me, since I had gone from something to abuse and torment to something they could make money from. Listening to the wagers get larger as the estimated time of my survival grew smaller, my pulse grew fast. I hadn't had much to eat in days, and fatigue made me light-headed.