Back Sea of Ruin
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright
  3. Author's Note
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
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Which one did I want Madwulf to keep?

I should choose the beard and let Lord Cutler sever the scoundrel’s manhood, so it could never threaten me again. But when the time came for Priest and me to take command of this ship, we would need a pirate crew to overrun the soldiers and keep them in line.

As much as I hated it, I couldn’t afford to make enemies with these ruffians.

I met Lord Cutler’s incisive eyes and shrugged. “He can keep the pisser.”

With a flick of his wrist, he sliced through the hair at Madwulf’s chin and caught the wiry red nest before it fell.

Then he sheathed his blades. No expression. No fear.

Madwulf growled like an animal and swung away, straightening his trousers. When he turned back, he glowered at me as if this were my fault.

“Honest to God, Madwulf, you look better beardless. Really brings out your long dainty neck. I daresay castration wouldn’t have had the same effect.” I yanked against the hands that held me and hardened my voice. “Now call off your men.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw.

“I want her alive when I deliver her to the gallows.” Lord Cutler clasped his hands behind his back. “But the rest of you? I really don’t give a damn. Release her or…” He glanced at his armed lieutenants. “Don’t.”

The prisoners tensed, looking to Madwulf. He ground his teeth, and a moment later, gave them a nod.

One by one, sweaty fingers sprang open and slipped off my body, leaving me to stand on my own, unfettered, and mostly covered by Priest’s shirt.

“You.” Lord Cutler slapped the severed beard into my hand. “Come with me.”

He pivoted on his gold-buckled shoes and strode out, expecting me to obey.

For better or for worse, I tossed the beard to Madwulf and followed.

18

By the time we arrived at Lord Cutler’s quarters, my nauseating terror of forty men had trickled into the uncertain fear of one.

Cutler was only a single threat. But he was the strongest, most powerful of them all, and I didn’t have an inkling what he meant to do with me.

At the cabin door, a blue-coated soldier stood rigidly at attention. Armed to the teeth with pistols and blades, he was assigned to guard the life of the most valuable man on the ship.

“Sergeant Smithley.” Cutler gripped my elbow and yanked me against his side. “This prisoner will be staying in my quarters. She’s under my protection, and at no time will you thwart her actions or engage with her in any way. Do I make myself clear?”

Tingling jolts hit my circulation. From the heat of his hand on my arm? Or was it the unexpected order he gave his sergeant? Surely, he didn’t expect me to behave just because he’d rescued me from Madwulf?