Page 154 of The Worst of Them

Dreaming, hallucinating, dead—there had to be an explanation that brought any measure of sense to this.

He’d been honest. She had seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Copson had never bothered to lie about his opinion of her, nor did he have any reason to spare her feelings. He did respect her, and she’d known it since the haunting when she’d realized he hid his good opinion beneath insults and clever taunts that distracted them both from their troubles, if only for a little while.

And after Jonah… Copson was an ass, but he wasn’t unreasonable.

Her eye was drawn to the bag of money on the desk. Copson wasn’t unreasonable in most things. Jack knew that about his father and had insisted the captain would eventually see things from his perspective.

Minutes passed, and her heartbeat calmed as she set her mind on what she would say to the captain. He wouldn’t convince her to leave Jack, and she’d overcome whatever he thought to be so insurmountable. She’d prove she was worthy—both she and Jack would.

She leaned against the desk, her arms folded over her chest as her thoughts began running in circles, fraying at the edges as she yawned. Once she returned to the Fortuna Royale, she’d go straight to bed. It was the least she deserved, and she doubted anyone would complain.

If she weren’t so tired, she might have sensed something was amiss a little sooner, or at least noticed the sound of water rushing against the hull. She hardly noticed it as she was so used to the lapping that it was easy to disregard.

Except that this ship wasn’t supposed to be sailing.

She shoved away from the desk, wrenched the door out of her way, and burst onto the deck.

The Fortuna Royale was gone.

Spitting a curse, Cecily spun. The crates were gone, and the sails were raised to catch the morning breeze.

Copson had lied to her.

No, he hadn’t lied. He’d told her the truth—he was thankful, he did like her, and he wouldn’t command her away from his son.

But he would deceive her into staying on another ship while he sailed away.

Heart in her throat, she finally spotted the Fortuna Royale, already far off in the distance. Disbelief, anger, and horror raged into the pit of her stomach, so violent she could have been sick. She sprinted for the rail, thrust herself against it, and released all of it in a shredding scream.

“JACK!”

The Fortuna Royale had hoisted new sails, so clean and white, like a beacon. Or a taunt.

Imagining Copson laughing at her, she screamed louder. “JACK!”

“Madam!” cried a voice next to her. Hands latched onto her arms, and she shook them off, screaming Jack’s name over and over. “Madam, be calm!”

“I won’t be calm!” Cecily bellowed, refusing to be dragged away. “I need to be on that ship!”

“He’s sailed away, miss,” said the voice. “He said we were to take you to port.”

Cecily turned, her eyes crazed as she took in the sailor next to her. He wasn’t a pirate, but a regular, unremarkable man with clean clothes and a cap. “I can’t go to port,” she spat. “My husband is on that ship. You will take me back to the Fortuna!” Her voice rose on a wave of hysteria. Jack was probably asleep and wouldn’t know she was gone. And Hester—she would assume she was with Jack, and no one would know she was here.

She was alone, without her love, her home, her safety.

Facing the Fortuna Royale, she screamed again, tasting blood and tears as she cried out for Jack, for Hester, and then a better power occurred to her. “Jonah,” she whispered, then raised her voice to a splitting screech. “JON⁠—!”

Someone yanked her from the rail and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Shut up!” the ship’s captain hissed. “I’ll not have you summoning the dead, or I’ll pitch you off the ship for Davy Jones to claim you. Now stop your screamin’ or I’ll bind and gag you and you can sit in the brig till we dock, got it?”

As awful as all this was, being bound in a cell would make it all the worse. Snorting like a bull around his hand, Cecily gave a single stiff nod.

The captain released her. Panting, she looked after Copson’s ship, watching it grow smaller. She fell to her knees. All this time, she’d thought she was gaining rapport with the captain. Remembering the way he’d smiled when she’d told him about the map—he’d known even then what he would do, and he’d taken her for a fool and used only truths to do it.

She might have been fascinated were she not entirely crushed. And Jack…Copson would undoubtedly deceive his son the same way he’d done to her. He wouldn’t tell Jack he’d released her against her will.

Cecily didn’t speak until they reached port that evening in a town she’d never heard of. Before she disembarked, the captain handed her the bag of money she’d seen on his desk.