Page 35 of The Worst of Them

“HESTER!” Cecily sprinted for the gangplank and flew across it, dropping to the merchant’s deck within seconds. Tugging a sword free from a dead man’s hand, she slid in front of Hester and swept the blade through the guard’s neck.

His head toppled from his shoulders and thudded to the deck. The sound of it pulled a disgusted shiver from her spine.

Behind her, Hester stood in shock. Cecily only had time to glance over her to ensure she was alright before tugging her out of the way to gut another guard.

“Stay with me,” Cecily growled. Then she threw herself into the fight.

The movements came naturally, drawing on years of sparring under her father’s expert guidance. When she was a girl, it had all been for fun, and she’d become nearly an expert herself for the sheer joy of it.

But if her father could see her now and what she was doing with the talent he’d gifted her… She wouldn’t think about it.

Another man fell by her sword.

Honestly, how had no one told Hester to stay near the edges of the fight? Who let her wander into the middle of everything?

A man screamed as her sword grated through his ribcage. With a twist of her wrist, she dislodged the blade with a spray of blood.

She would have harsh words for Greyson. How dare he leave her so unprepared! How dare he let her only friend flirt so closely with death?

She lunged for another and dispatched him too, her anger and frustration throwing more power into her swing.

Her perfect, efficient, deadly swing.

Behind her annoyance at the many foolish mistakes others had made today, she hoped Morgyn saw, wherever she was. If she wasn’t dead. She hoped it was enough to make her afraid⁠—

Arms wrapped around her middle. Cecily nearly thrust her sword through whoever held her, but it was only Hester, her cleavers discarded on the deck.

“Thank you,” Hester gasped.

The fight had stopped. Dead guards were scattered around her, and the few who were still alive were being offered a final chance to either join the crew or die. Blood, bodies, and weapons littered the deck, but the pirates were mostly unscathed, picking through the mess and beginning to take what they could.

From the raised quarterdeck, Jack stared down at her, his lips pursed, eyes unreadable.

She had willfully defied his orders. In case he wondered why, she threw her arm around Hester and buried her face in her yellow hair. Maybe Copson would punish her for this, or he’d be a man of reason and understand she’d done it to save Hester’s life. Either way, she couldn’t bring herself to care what might happen. Hester was alive, and nothing else mattered so much as that.

“Don’t die,” Cecily snapped. “You’re my only friend.”

“You need more friends,” Hester said, her voice thick with tears.

Greyson’s hulking figure crossed the deck toward them, slowing when he caught sight of Cecily’s glare. His chin dipped in preparation for the tongue-lashing he knew was coming.

“Don’t you ever leave her,” she seethed through clenched teeth. “She nearly died!”

Greyson had the good sense to look chastened.

“It’s okay,” Hester pleaded. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not okay! Hester may know how to use a meat cleaver, but it is nothing compared to being attacked from every side by multiple men, you idiot!”

Greyson’s eyes guttered at the insult. “I should’ve stayed with her,” he said. “I’m sorry, Hester.”

Cecily opened her mouth to say more, to continue scolding him, but stopped short at the sound of Morgyn’s voice.

“Playing with swords, Ces?” She was entirely untouched. It seemed she didn’t have the fortune to fall on her own sword, let alone someone else’s.

Cecily pulled away from Hester.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill yourself,” Morgyn crooned. “Unless that was your goal in breaking such stringent rules.” She glanced at the sword in Cecily’s hand. “Or did I hear wrong? The captain said no sharp things, didn’t he?”