Shrugging, she threw her head back and cheered with the last of her crewmates. Whatever he’d done to secure FitzRoy’s agreement, she should just be glad about the result, since it was what she’d wanted for so long. The Queen had been good to her, and although it was years since she’d seen her, years since she’d even been alive as far as the Queen knew, it hadn’t faded.

Vice clapped Perry on the shoulder and grinned. Her other hand went to the small pin hidden under the collar of her shirt, its shape familiar from long years of wear. She didn’t have to look at it to see the crowned drake—the red enamel was bright in her mind, the ruby eyes sparkled, the tiny pearls in the crown glistened, as vivid as the day the Queen had given it to her.

No more danger of attacking the Queen’s ships. Now they’d help resist her enemies.

Vice snorted again. Never thought she’d see the day.

After that pleasant surprise, the crew finished tidying and repairing The Morrigan, and disentangled the three ships. As part of the deal, new weapons were brought over from the Venatrix—extra pistols and rifles, which Vice helped stow. They weren’t fae-worked, but they were in good working order. Maybe that was what had sweetened the deal.

By the time the sun was just a thin orange sliver on the horizon, everyone was back on their own ships, and The Morrigan set sail.

Vice stood at the stern rail, watching the Venatrix silhouetted against the dying sunset. She sighed, heart dropping. Being a privateer made taking that ship strictly off-limits, probably forever. It was a pretty dream while it lasted.

They could take a Hesperian vessel instead, though it’d be hard to find something as swift and sleek. She bit her lip.

Still, she’d got her wish to ally The Morrigan with the Queen. Plus, leaving the Venatrix in their wake meant she’d got the insufferably disciplined Captain Blackwood off her back.

Silver linings and all that.

She watched the shrinking shape of the Venatrix, munching roasted cocoplum seeds from the pouch Perry had pressed into her hands with an order to “Bloody eat something, woman.”

Vice chuckled to herself. Fine, so maybe she was feeling a little better now she’d eaten.

“Madam.” The voice came from behind, setting the hairs on the back of her neck on end. “I understand you can show me to my new cabin.”

Blackwood?

Space

Blood burning its way through her body, Vice clenched her hands into useless fists.

The Captain had given her cabin to Blackwood. He’d actually gone and done it.

She’d argued—Wild Hunt, she’d bloody argued, but he was adamant. The deal to turn legit privateer not quite of the Queen’s Navy meant bringing aboard a representative.