Maybe easier said than done when she wasn’t actually innocent. But ever since Blackwood had offered that letter of marque, she’d acted in good faith. With her fae charm, the judge would see that and worst-case scenario, she’d end up with a spell in the stocks before being released and allowed to go on her way. Then she could get back to the ship and give Barnacle a good squeeze. At least with the rest of the crew being released after the stocks, someone would be looking after her.

Cat aside, Vice still owed Blackwood for his betrayal. He might have tricked her this time, but that wasn’t the end of the story.

When the cart rolled to a stop outside the courts, Vice stood before the guards could grab her. Smiling, she turned and bowed deeply to the crowd. They’d gone to the trouble of coming here, best to give them a show.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Albion,” she said in the carrying voice she used to give orders on deck. “Your Pirate Queen thanks you for your loyalty.” She nodded solemnly, then winked and blew a kiss just as the guards closed their hands on her shoulders and bundled her from the cart.

Laughing at their frowns and mutters, she let them direct her through the corridors until at last they shoved her onto a bench in a courtroom.

So small? She scowled, looking around at the empty galleries. Disappointing. They’d shut the public—her adoring fans—out. Must have realised their error in the parade.

There was only her, a handful of stuffy-looking men in white legal wigs, the judge in his oversized chair, a blond man in naval uniform, and half a dozen guards stationed behind her with another two at the doors.

Oh well, it would have been nice to have more witnesses to this victory, but no doubt the story of her talking her way out of court would get around anyway.

With a rap of his gavel, the judge called the court to silence—not that there was much chatter with so few people here.

“In the matter of the Realm versus—ahem—Lady Vice.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What is your real name, girl?”

“Lady Vice, Your Honour.” She smiled her most winning smile.

His gaze stayed on her, level, no warmth there despite her fae charm. The flesh around his eyes tensed for a second, then his lips parted in a slow, cool smile, revealing pointed canines.

Vice’s blood ran even colder than his smile. Oddly pointed canines. Far too sharp, far too long, overlapping his bottom teeth like a cat’s did. A fae mark.

Bollocks.

He was fae-touched, possibly blooded, and either way, immune to her unnatural charm.

Double bollocks.