Bernard peeled his lip upward, flashing rotten, yellowed teeth in a smug smirk. He tilted his pistol toward the sky. The muscles in his bulky arm contracted as he fired off a warning shot. Most of the crew jumped, but I didn’t flinch. It’d take more than a bullet to scare me into submission, but I had other lives to consider.

Inch by inch, I removed the pins securing my father’s tricorn hat to my hair. Blond locks fell over my shoulders, swaying halfway down my back. Several of Bordeaux's men gasped. Their captain, however, appeared more pleased than surprised. The muscles around his mouth relaxed as he lowered his weapon and stepped forward.

“Captain Elouise Farrington, the first woman captain of The Freedom,” Captain Bordeaux declared, jutting his chin for the theatrics. “I’ve been looking for you.”

No one but my mother, gods rest her soul, called me Elouise. The plague had killed that name, along with her, ten years ago. My hands balled into fists at my sides. “It’s Captain Lou.” I lunged at him.

A new body stepped between us. “Watch yourself, girl.” He was tall with a shaven face, short blond curls, and a perfect nose. A long scar dragged across his forehead and through his eyebrow, interrupting the hair growth. “This is not the fight you want to start.” The muscles on his forearm flexed, causing his tattoo of a caduceus—a winged staff climbed by two entwined snakes—to dance. I guessed this was the first mate—Smitter, a proclaimed devotee of Hermes, if the stories were accurate.

“My apologies for my men. They are a tad bit overprotective,” Captain Bordeaux said, nudging the mate out of the way and tipping his brown hat. Its white plume caught the wind, the barbs ruffling in the breeze. “My name is Captain Rylander Bordeaux of The Sea Singer, but my friends call me Rye.”

“We will never be friends,” I spat.

Rylander’s lips twitched. “Shame. I’m hoping you’ll change your mind.” He leaned his hip against a stack of wooden crates on the deck and crossed his arms.

Was he mimicking me?