Page 101 of A Prince Among Pirates
My clouded gaze shifts to my fingers against the parchment, and something tightens in my throat.The flesh of heretics and slaves.Never before has someone suggested that I was anything less because of the color of my skin. Indeed, I have always blended in fairly well with those around me. I have always known I was not the same as the pale-skinned Englishmen, but never have I considered myselfother. Not until this moment.
Even Falmouth did not treat me differently for my outward appearance, not forthatreason. All at once my thoughts fly to Captain Sharpe, and Billy, and Naeem. To all the men my captain has rescued. A sick feeling twists my gut as another realization settles there like milk that’s gone sour. Some part of me knew when they refused to disembark theDeliveranceat various port cities—but I truly understand now.Theycannot hide among the gentry, as I have done my entire life.Theyare othered the moment they enter a room. The advantages of my birth have given me a disguise I never quite realized I had.
How ironic that my father’s own disgust at my heritage is exactly what’s led to this realization. It only deepens my shame. It should not have taken me nineteen years to reach this truth.
I get to my feet, seeking air, sucking in as deeply as I can to fill my burning lungs as the letters and envelope flutter to the floor.
Thomas, thank Christ, is quick on his feet. He drops to one knee to gather the papers. I can hear the rustle of the letters as hecarefully tucks them back into the envelope, and then he is standing, his hands gripping my arms.
I am still gasping, unable to form words. Thomas draws me into his arms, too tight. So tight that it hurts, and I think I might faint from trying to breathe. “You’re all right,” he whispers into my hair. “You’re all right, Kit.”
Hearing him say my name is a shock to the system. I open my eyes and look at him, and he gives me a firm nod. And then I am sobbing. He cups the back of my head and rocks me back and forth. I recognize in this gesture the same tender comfort Captain Sharpe offered me the night I found Jeffrey Reuter’s dead body.
But this is so much worse.
“He raped her,” I blurt, trembling against Thomas as he supports my weight. “He raped her until she conceived, and then hemurderedher family.Myfamily.”
I hate him. I hate Henry with every fiber of my being, and yet I grieve for the loss of my true father, for the love he bore for me. I held out hope, even as I fled from the palace, that his love for me was true and genuine. I held out hope that he wasn’t a monster, like Sharpe had said, but simply an unfaithful husband.
Mostly, I hate him because I’m not entirely sure Idohate him. In the same way that I know I will never truly hate Falmouth. Perhaps I am broken, and the curse of my conception has stained my blood and my soul. I was the destruction of my own mother, an innocent girl with no one to comfort her as Thomas comforts me now.
Falmouth was right about me. I was neither made out of love nor born out of love, and I certainly wasn’t raised with love. I am cursed.
Or—Iwas.
But I’m not anymore.
“I’m all right,” I say finally—because even if that’s not perfectly true in this moment, I know now that Iwillbe. I draw back from Thomas’s arms and swallow down the thickness swelling around my tongue. “Take it out of here,” I whisper.
“Shall I destroy it?” he asks.
I consider that. I consider the burning embers mere feet away, and the endless roiling sea outside. Iwantto get rid of it. I want to never see it again.
But no. I shake my head and draw in a slow, fortifying breath. “No,” I breathe. “Someday my father will find out where I am. He will come for me to secure his throne, and when he does, I will rain devastation upon him with the venom of his very own words.”
I wipe my cheeks with the silk of my sleeve and see Thomas wince at my carelessness. Still playing the part of the valet, even now.
“I was born out of his violence, and cursed for it. So I will become the blight upon the House of Stuart and fulfill my father’s own prophecy.”
Thomas refuses to leave my side for the remainder of the evening. He sits faithfully beside me, saying nothing, as we drinkwine in lieu of tea and watch the embers glow inside the stove. I feel calm once again, though I am spent from the outpouring of such raw emotion. It isn’t until Sharpe steps into the cabin that Thomas rises to his feet. He bows to me, and I can’t help but smile at his relentless allegiance.
“Thank you, Thomas,” I say.
“It was my honor to sit at your side this evening, my prince,” he replies.
I should correct him, and remind him that I’m not a prince anymore, but I just smile and nod as he stands there smoothing out his livery, glancing meaningfully at the bed before finally turning to face down Captain Sharpe.
I’m not sure what kind of threatening look Thomas sends in his direction, but from the way Sharpe’s brows shoot up, it must be a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. I laugh softly as Thomas leaves the cabin, presumably to finally get some rest in the privacy of his own stateroom.
“He’s a terrifying little shit,” Sharpe says, staring at the closed door.
“I know, isn’t it marvelous?” I ask, which earns me a snort.
Sharpe turns to face me once more and narrows his eyes at the stove beside me. “I’m not sure how I feel aboutthat,” he says. “Fire on a ship is a little insane, even for me.”
“It’s contained,” I say as I watch the embers glow in the iron stove, carefully sealed shut, with a marble hearth surrounding it. “And there are pipes that run along the ceiling downstairs, so the men won’t freeze.”
“How very modern,” Sharpe says with a smile as he approaches me. He’s staring at my silk dressing gown—and, by the look in his eyes, deciding whether it’s worth it to laugh at me or if I’ll refuse to take it off if he does.
