The Pirate and the Amber Cat 4
Chapter 4
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Suili awoke the next morning, unaware of her foreign surroundings until the smell of pineapples grew strong. She opened her eyes, unmoving, her first sight galvanizing her.
It all came back to her like a rushing torrent.
The raid, the long ride, the ship.
The burn on her leg was sore where it rested on the linen sheet, but she didn't move it. The window was still open and she thought Cortleno might close it if he knew she was awake.
She watched him shave at the washstand by the window. His hair was light from the sea's relentless sun and his skin darker than most of the Othalian people she had seen. She knew he was Othalian, too, because she recognized his accent. He wore no shirt now and she could see darker lines lace his broad back. She watched the muscles tighten as he leaned over the basin, intent on his image in the mirror. She wondered why he had been lashed, and assumed there were many crimes from which to choose.
How had he become her problem?
She consciously steered her thoughts from what she had heard of him.
"Change your dress today," he said suddenly, turning around and wiping his face. "I'll not have you greeting your husband in a burnt rag."
She pulled the sheet higher around herself.
He began to light the lantern and she sat up quickly.
"Please don't close the window," she asked of him, but he was already shaking his head.
"I'll leave it open when we sail." He closed the window and locked the shutter into place, muting sounds of the waking town.
"Sail?" she echoed. "When do we sail?"
"Tomorrow morning."
She flinched under his gaze that grazed over her as he pulled on a shirt. "But Juriz may not be back yet," she said. Her fingers twisted the sheet in her grasp. "You said I could go back."
"You will. After Shaenen meets my demands." He rolled the hammock to the corner and tied it. "He can read, I presume."
She allowed a short laugh. "You can write?"
His dark glare made her immediately sorry she had said it.
"How much are you asking for me?"
He unlocked a case by his wardrobe and took out a cutlass and baldric. He slung the belt over his shoulder and looked her over thoroughly until the uneasiness leased her eyes. "How much are you worth?"
Her lips pursed into a pout. "Juriz won't succumb to dealing with pirates."
"You better hope he does." He smiled in an uncharming manner. "Yesterday you said he'd pay whatever I asked. Now you tell me he won't negotiate with a pirate for his Lux bride. Are you worth less today?"
"I'm not Lux," she denied boldly despite the fears creeping through her.
"You're not entirely Ulliran, either." He adjusted the baldric buckle and holstered the cutlass, observing the contrast of white sheet against her tawny skin. "You're Luresian or Lux, too."
She sat back against the headboard, sheet and blanket pulled to her chest. "And you are Othalian."
He nodded and locked the case, looking at the form her legs made beneath the bedclothes. "How's your leg?"
"Fine."
"Put more oil on it." He took the braid from the mantle and left, the door lock clicking behind him.
Suili sighed in momentarily despair, and then pulled the sheet and blanket back to expose her leg. The burn was scabbed and dark, about the size of a quail egg yolk. It was not fine; it hurt.
But it was not her biggest problem. They were sailing tomorrow.
She got out of bed, cursing the lantern's poor light. Already the room was warming and stuffy.
How has Juriz garnered the pirate D'Arkaise's attention? she asked herself.
What had he done to bring on such a raid? Or had he done anything at all? Was this how Cortleno operated, swooping down on helpless villas? She had never heard of it before.
She opened the armoire and appraised herself in the long mirror.
He was right about the dress. It was torn and hanging at her calf, ripped in other places from the hedge barbs and spotted with lamp oil. With a guarded look toward the door, she poured water from the pitcher into the washbasin and scrubbed her face vigorously. She picked up one of the clay jars and lifted its cork, smelling contents. She recognized it was a powdered soap Juriz imported from Kacerak.
She frowned. Cortleno was not lying, not about the ships. The soap was to come in on the Northern Promise, due this month. The other jar contained sandalwood oil, which would have been on the Ten Reeds from the Hemtitti Islands. Cortleno had indeed declared war on Juriz.
From the armoire she took a deep amethyst dress. It was of finely woven gauze, but not thin enough to be transparent. She brought it, the basin, and soap behind the changing screen with her.
When she emerged and stood before the mirror moments later, she found her image more composed and presentable. The sweeping neckline gathered at her shoulders and fell gracefully into a full skirt accented by a black and gold embroidered belt. Already the room seemed cooler with the change of apparel.
Suili dabbed caron oil on the burn, savoring the relief. If she was going to escape it had to be before they sailed the next morning. Maybe if Cortleno gained a little confidence in her he would lower his guard. She could take advantage of even a few moments.
She combed her hair thoroughly, pausing to marvel at the detail on the comb and brush. Both were of ivory and the brush was set with pink shell, onyx, and jade. She wondered if they were from Hemtitti also.
A bowl of rice waited for her at the table. Rice had been a coveted treat in her father's house where it was rare in the desert country. No amount of irrigation could provide adequate flooding for rice fields in Luxil. Even ships carrying it in from middle Luresia's coast often docked with puffed and rotting grains from damp voyages. She sat down at the table.
Her eyes wandered over the roomy bedchamber as she ate.
Whatever it was now, the Lita Nysse had once led a grander life, she guessed. The smooth, dark wood panel-lined cupboards and closets showed little wear or repair and no ornamentation. It was not the quarters of a military man or nobleman, she determined, and certainly not royalty. Perhaps the Nysse had been the property of a wealthy merchant, a man more of comfort and necessity than showy extravagance. And a good transport for a pirate seeking discretion to his vessel. The series of shutters and blinds that accompanied each window told her the Nysse was more prone to warm waters than the chill of the Gorzai Sea's permanent autumn. This seemed in contrast to what Suili had heard of Captain D'Arkaise's pirate ventures.
She ate most of the rice before realizing it was topped by not only honey but a flowered brandy as well. She felt the warmth start slowly in her and pushed the bowl away. So he wanted a docile captive. She went to the armoire and found the pearl-studded, starched lace fan she had seen earlier and opened it wide, then looked purposefully over the room.
There had to be a way out and she had to find it before tomorrow morning. After a few moments with the fan she tossed it on the bed. For a long while she reinvestigated every corner of the room, again tugging on the fireplace grate and checking the window locks.
As she passed his washstand she caught sight of herself in the mirror above it. She picked it off the wall. It was thin, easy to break, and would probably produce several sharp edges.
She carefully hung it back up. Surely Cortleno would notice the mirror's absence. She glanced at the mirror above her own washstand and came to the same conclusion. She looked around the room, the ebb of hopelessness increasing as the morning slowly passed.
She tried all the drawers and closets again, hoping to find something, anything, to use as a weapon. But the fireplace was devoid of irons and there was not as much as a stylus to serve as a knife.
Suili sat on the chest, staring vacantly at the hearth across from the bed, fanning herself. Her only companion was a moth caught in the room, flittering around the lantern at the ceiling. She looked up at it, thinking to smack it to a quick death, but refrained. No doubt the light would break and set the room on fire.
A new thought brought her to her feet.
Yes, Cortleno would be suspicious of a dark room. She listened, but heard no other sounds on the ship.
In the water closet, she inspected the globe on the small lamp cleated to the wall. It was of thicker glass than the lamp she had dropped yesterday.
He wouldn't notice this one, she thought, taking it into the bedroom. If Cortleno had gone to confront Juriz, he would not be back until late. It had taken nearly half the day just to reach the port yesterday. The water closet lamp had not been lit last night, and the candle in it showed little use.
She wrapped it in a corner of the bed sheet and crashed it against the bed post. The result was two large pieces and three smaller, useless ones. The two she put under her pillow, undecided how to use them yet. The other three she buried in her old torn dress and tucked it in the armoire.
Suili took a deep breath, confident she had succeeded in at least finding a weapon. Now she wondered how she would use it, and if an opportunity would present itself before morning. The consolation of making the crude weapon faded as she realized she was far from free. And home.
She reached beneath the pillow and pulled out the two pieces of glass, comparing their razor sharp edges and angles. As a precaution, she ripped a length of material from her old burnt dress and wrapped it testily around her hand, pleased with its thickness.
She put the glass and torn material back under the pillow, put the dress in the armoire, and sat against the headboard.
PG13. #romance #cleanromance #teenromance #YA #fantasy #pirateromance #pirates #ambercat
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