He brushed down the front of his waistcoat. He’d followed the advice she’d given him and swapped his uniform for neutral civilian clothing—leather boots, plain breeches, a simple white shirt and cravat, and a waistcoat. On the one hand, it felt inappropriate to be about to walk ashore without full coat and uniform. But on the other, the linen shirt let the breeze breathe through to cool his skin. And with the sun so fierce, that breeze was welcome.

She’d advised him well. Ahead, the wharves and streets crawled with precisely the people he’d spent the past two years chasing down. Setting foot here in Navy uniform would have been nothing short of suicide.

Vice gave him a sidelong look—her eyes were brilliant blue flecked turquoise today. It seemed the colour looked different depending on the light. Curious.

She pursed her lips. “This isn’t a jolly stroll along the promenade, Blackwood, this is work.”

He cocked his head. “I didn’t think you would consider work and pleasure mutually exclusive.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she gave no reply, gaze fixed on the town stretching ahead.

She, too, wore light clothes—linen breeches, a sheer shirt cut low enough to draw attention, and a sea-blue waistcoat. With all the gold braid and brass buttons, it should have been garish. And yet the way she wore it with leather belts criss-crossed over waist and hips, holding three pistols and a battered sabre—somehow, she made it seem nonchalant. Topped with a tricorne hat to keep the sun from her eyes, there was no doubting she belonged here.

“Let’s get this over and done with.” Without waiting for him, she sauntered across the gangway and thanked the dock workers who’d manoeuvred it.

He sighed and strode after her. He was trying. He’d annoyed FitzRoy, that much was obvious. And Vice, too, but that seemed an easy task. However, he was attempting to integrate with their motley crew. They might be privateers, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that meant their enmity towards him as a pirate hunter had disappeared the instant the ink on their agreement dried.

Walking at her side, he watched her out the corner of his eye. Now he was closer, he spotted silver hooped earrings glinting amongst the wild waves of her hair. As she moved, small, bright feathers hanging from the hoops gleamed in iridescent colours—bright blue, green, gold. He’d seen Saba wear similar feathers in her hair and as jewellery—perhaps the earrings had been a gift from her.

It wasn’t a great leap of logic. Vice was clearly popular with the crew. In fact, although FitzRoy had told her to bring him along for his own ends, this spell on shore could work to his advantage. If he won Vice’s approval, perhaps that would influence the rest of the crew.