Perry narrowed her eyes. “What are you plotting, Vice?”

“Reconnaissance.” For her eventual capture of the Venatrix, yes, but also for her own curiosity. Who was this man who’d sailed all the way from Albion for the chance to catch her? He had to be an optimistic fool to believe he’d succeed. But, Lords and Ladies, he’d chosen a tempting lure to dangle in front of her.

“No, you can’t be—”

“I can. If this man’s after me, then by extension he’s after The Morrigan, so it’s best we know about him, isn’t it, Captain?” She looked up at him from lowered lashes.

“Something, at least,” he conceded with a tilt of his shoulders.

“And I’m the best person for the job, considering …” She swallowed, and her smile grew tight for a second.

That girl was long dead, her past a distant memory, but she still knew how to summon her manners when necessary. Etiquette couldn’t have changed in three years. A nagging discomfort tickled the back of her throat.

She took a quick breath. “Considering my background.”

There, that was the closest she’d venture towards saying it. No way would she mention that foolish girl Lady Avice Ferrers. As far as the world was concerned, she was dead. Only Perry, Fitz, and those who’d served on The Morrigan three years ago knew she’d become Lady Vice—and they all knew to keep quiet about it.

Urgh, enough wincing at the embarrassment of Avice Ferrers. She was a pirate now, tough and free of a little girl’s stupid ideas.

She lifted her chin, pulling back her shoulders.

Fitz tilted his head, mouth pouting as it did when he was thoughtful.

Perry’s lips pursed. As quartermaster, she had no say in this decision unless the Captain asked, but Vice knew what she’d say if asked. No. Too reckless.

Sweet fae Lords and Ladies, she loved Perry dearly—she was her closest friend, practically family—but that woman did love to say the word reckless a lot. Everything was reckless in her book. Or at least everything Vice wanted to do.

Vice eyed Fitz—still thinking. If she could persuade him before he asked for Perry’s input …

With a light brush of her fingers, she flicked away an imagined spot of dust from his shoulder. That would push his sartorial buttons. “Besides, we took that chest of fancy ladies’ clothes from the brig last week. Would be a shame to let it all go to waste.”