A flash, a crack, a haze of smoke, and the distant spray of crimson, then he fell.

As she ducked and reloaded, the spent cartridge burning her fingertips, she smiled at Knigh. He was now safe and busy shouting an order aloft.

She fired off another shot before the ships bumped together and she led her team in a leap across the gap, rifles left behind.

Pistol in one hand, sabre in the other, she shot and sliced out space for more of The Morrigan’s crew to board. Other teams did the same further fore.

As they forged a path towards a knot of officers she guessed were gathered around their captain, there was a clatter and a cry.

“Vice,” Saba shouted, blocking a blow from a black-haired man.

Vice followed her wide-eyed nod.

Every hatch on the Covadonga was open. A wave of royal blue edged with scarlet poured out. Dozens of Hesperian marines.

“Bollocks.” Vice kicked away her enemy. This was far, far more men than they’d bargained for. “Fall back.”

“Slight problem with that,” Aedan said at her shoulder.

Their way to The Morrigan was blocked by Hesperian sailors, marines rapidly adding to their number.

The breath huffed from Vice’s chest. “Surrounded.”

The Observer

The sick knot in Knigh’s belly tightened as he lost sight of Vee behind a sea of Hesperian marines. He paced the quarterdeck, peering through the smoke into the fray.

Clashing steel. Cries of fear, pain, and death. And beneath it all, the constant whisper of the sea—indifferent to the struggle playing out on the Covadonga’s deck.

Knigh clenched his fists so tight his knuckles popped.

Damnation—there weren’t supposed to be so many guards, certainly not a whole detachment of marines. That was why this treasure ship was worth pursuing—the lack of warships and servicemen available to guard it meant it was posing as a simple merchant to maintain a low profile.

Forty marines—that was not a low profile.

He swore.

He’d helped The Morrigan’s crew sail, yes, but fighting was a different matter entirely. Killing outside of state-sanctioned war, that was worlds apart from …

But was it really so different from the Navy?

Grunting, he punched the mizzenmast. His blood burned.

Yes, it was different. It was.

The pirates had formed knots of fierce fighting, teeth bared, eyes wild, sabres and axes slashing and battering against their opponents.

One man fell. Then another, his high yell piercing the smoky-salty air.

Knigh’s heart hammered. His stomach roiled. He couldn’t …

He’d eaten with these people, drunk with them, hells, even danced with them and he never danced. And now they were on a Hesperian ship dying while he stood here and did nothing.

Observe only. Those were his orders, and he had to follow them.