She didn’t really command it, not any more than a person commanded their arm to rise and fall. Command was what one person did to another. It was for things that were separate. She and the sea were one.

“Anyway,” she said, putting her arm around Perry’s shoulder and squeezing her close, “FitzRoy’s been promising me long enough, we just haven’t found the right ship, yet. Well, if that isn’t the right ship, then I don’t know what is.”

It was going to be hers, she could feel it in the tides.

“But you don’t know the first thing about it, about whose it is. I thought you didn’t like attacking the Queen’s ships—it has a whiff of the Navy about it to me.”

“Here’s Barrels, let’s find out. Ahoy!” She waved at the pot-bellied docker, throwing him a broad smile and then one of The Morrigan’s mooring lines.

Glancing up, he barely caught the line in time but smiled back anyway. “Nearly got me, miss.” He touched his forelock as if he didn’t know her, but used the gesture to wink without anyone else on the bustling docks seeing.

Miss. That meant there were people around he didn’t trust. If he’d called her Vice, it would have been around port within an hour that Lady Vice, notorious pirate, was here.

And in a place like Port Royal, not every pair of ears was friendly. Here, they had to operate in disguise as a merchantman—they’d covered half The Morrigan’s gunports and name and had raised their white sails, rather than the black.

The Morrigan eased into place, and Vice helped Perry and Saba with the gangway, with Barrels securing the other end. She was first up there, striding across to the jetty, Perry not far behind.

“Here, Barrels”—she sidled next to him as he coiled the spare line with an expert twist, tattooed knuckles flexing—“what do you know about that small frigate over there, the Venatrix?”

He straightened from his work, rubbing his brow. “Ah, well.” He glanced left and right, then ushered her and Perry away from his colleagues. “That’s something I was going to warn you about.”

Perry’s eyebrows dropped into a frown, and she leant towards him.

Vice scoffed. “Warn? Too late for that, I’m afraid—I’m already in love.”

“Not with that ship, I hope—she’s a pirate hunter.”

“Huh.” A pirate hunter’s vessel. Low profile, swift, well armed. Made sense. And would make taking her all the sweeter. She raised an eyebrow. “Well, that just makes things more interesting.”

“Not interesting, Vice, dangerous,” Barrels murmured. “The hunter’s here for you.”

“Who’s here for my sea witch?” the captain’s low voice behind her cut through their hush.

She turned and smiled up at him.