More steel rang across the Veritas as, one-by-one, the rest of the crew surrendered until only the first mate held a weapon.

Waving those who’d surrendered out of the way, Vice cocked her head at him. “What’ll it be? Is this cargo, this ship really worth your life?”

Raising his chin, he stared at her, eyes narrowing as if sizing her up. To fight or just to work out whether she’d be true to her word, she wasn’t sure, but he’d be a damn fool to lift that blade alone.

Slowly, his chest rose, tension inching across his body.

No, surely, he wasn’t going to fight? Vice shifted her grip on her sabre and the weight on her feet, ready to spring forward to meet his blade if he went for one of her crewmates.

Eyes lowering, he huffed and threw his sabre to the deck, shoulders slumping.

There was only the whisper of the wind, the sigh of waves, and the flap of torn canvas.

Then the cheers erupted.

Thank the gods for that. Lowering her blade, Vice nodded at the first mate. “Good choice,” she said, but it was swallowed up by the roar of voices.

It was over. She turned, scanning the path back to The Morrigan as the cheers faded. Despite their smiles and raised fists, a few of their crew were bloodied—cuts on shoulders, bleeding noses, split lips, but nothing worse. They all still stood.

The relief burst through her in a laugh, and she waved at Perry, near the Veritas’s rail. Surely, she’d forgive her earlier misjudgement about the number of guns.

“Interesting manoeuvring,” Perry called, one eyebrow raised.

Grinning, Vice lifted her hands. “Not my finest performance, no, but we won, didn’t we?”

Perry pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled in the low sun. Then her gaze drifted over Vice’s shoulder, and her face dropped.

“Perry?” Vice swallowed. “What’s—”

Before she finished turning, a shout rose: “Sails!”

Taken Aback

Rifle in one hand, Knigh stood on the quarterdeck of the Venatrix, gaze fixed on The Morrigan and Veritas locked together. The pirate vessel formed a T with the merchant, bowsprit tangled with foremast, as though the pirates had rammed their victim.

Other than dissipating smoke and flicking sails, though, it was all so still. Frowning, he yanked his spyglass from its holster and lifted it to his eye.

No one on deck of either ship. No one living, anyway—a few bodies lay on the Veritas. She had taken damage to mast and sail, too. The Morrigan looked in a far better state, just a couple of tears to the canvas.