Page 28 of The Worst of Them

She quickly found Hester sitting on a rail across the deck next to Greyson, swinging her arm wildly above her head.

“Come sit!” Hester called, and Cecily picked her way over to her.

“The stew is good,” Greyson said. He slung his arm over his wife’s shoulders, and she giggled. “Better than usual. Maybe you should help Stede every day instead of doing Jack’s dirty work.”

On Greyson’s far side, Jack ate in silence. He was one of few pirates who hadn’t sought a girl, though surely he’d noticed their flirtatious glances and heated gazes. Perhaps he was too busy or too serious, or maybe he had a girl waiting for him somewhere⁠—

As though he could feel her watching, he glanced up and caught her staring. She quickly dropped her gaze to her bowl like her stew was the most interesting thing in the world and didn’t look his way again.

When the pirates turned in for the night, Cecily curled up in her corner, hidden in shadow as she waited for the lanterns to dim so she could escape the crew’s quarters. Between Morgyn’s attention earlier and the many happily married couples, she had already decided she wouldn’t even try to sleep there tonight.

As soon as the last light extinguished, she snuck toward the main deck—and came up short when she found Jack sitting on the steps, his gun in hand.

He aimed it at her. “Not tonight.”

She eyed the barrel. “I can’t sleep here.”

“Then you won’t sleep.” He waved her back toward the crew’s quarters with the weapon. “Go.”

Beyond him was freedom and peace away from the others, but he didn’t move. “Why?”

“I don’t owe you a reason.” He waved the gun again. “Do it because I tell you to.”

She huffed and nearly spat a retort, but remembered what Stede had told her earlier that day—that Jack was the reason there was order on this ship. If she chose to fight him over this, he’d win.

“Fine, Copson,” she said, spitting his name like a curse.

“Thank you, Cecily,” he said in the same tone.

Cecily returned to her corner but didn’t sleep. She watched the steps, even as the other pirates picked up their nightly activities that made her cheeks burn and her stomach clench. The minutes ticked by, and the noises quieted and snores began. When an hour had passed, Jack finally rose and returned to his cabin.

The moment his door shut, Cecily scampered up to the deck and fell asleep behind the foremast.

7

SOLD SOULS

Jack woke her the next morning by dropping the ash bucket by her head and grumbling, “Defiant wretch.”

Ignoring his sour mood as she set to work, she tried to find solace in the monotony of her tasks, but her mind traitorously tugged toward familiar terror. It had followed her from prison and now lurked in her freedom, still entirely itself but in a slightly different shape.

Cecily was cleaning her final drum when the crew began wandering from their quarters. Her eyes flicked to the door every time she spotted movement, as though waiting for Morgyn to emerge and pounce. And each time, her heart would leap to her throat, then calm when she realized there was no threat.

But she expected one in the same way one might feel a war was brewing—because it certainly was. Morgyn and the other women wouldn’t forget her forever, and soon they would realize the status quo had changed and come to make her pay for how horrible she’d been in prison.

It was exhausting to be so on edge, so afraid and counting down the days until she wouldn’t have to be so vigilant.

She couldn’t wait to be off this ship. She hadn’t realized she’d grumbled it aloud when Jack answered with a mocking, “Don’t tease me, I beg you.” Then he gave her two buckets of fish and ordered her to help Stede gut them in a far corner of the main deck.

Cecily was happy to work with the cook again, especially if it kept her away from the others, but again didn’t make that apparent to Jack. Stede had brought her a handful of dried apple and a bit of salted meat, which he told her to finish before she started on the fish. She ate while he showed her how to cut off their fins and heads, then slice their bellies open and scoop out the innards.

Her knife was sharper today, and Stede would most definitely account for it before the day was done. And though the smell of fish was anything but pleasant, she was beginning to think that anything might be bearable if only she could listen to Stede talk, distracting her with long, meandering stories of mermaids, sea serpents, and ghosts.

“Ghosts?” Cecily asked when he mentioned them. She’d heard stories, of course, but her father had told her she didn’t need to fear them, and she’d trusted him enough that they’d never been a worry.

“Aye, ghosts,” Stede said, scooping a fish’s innards into a bucket along with all the fins and heads. They were nearly finished by now, and had only a few more to clean. “You heard’a Jonah Lovibond?”

Cecily shook her head. And because she was eager for this chore to take as long as possible—both for the sake of listening to Stede and avoiding Morgyn—she slowed her knife and said, “Tell me.”