The four sailors nodded and formed a huddle, presumably to determine who got to leave first.
“The rest of you, we leave at dawn,” she shouted across the crowded deck. “Don’t have too much fun. I don’t want any of you vomiting on my deck tomorrow morning.”
With Ace’s final orders given, the sloop cleared out quickly. Zander hung behind, watching Ace as she walked swiftly to her quarters and closed the door. There were at least six hammocks in the crew’s quarters he’d noticed had small tears or holes forming. Jurgen’s hammock, which was barely large enough to accommodate his stature, looked as if it was going to give out completely. He figured he’d repair a few while the men were out and do a bit of exploring later on.
Ace’s door opened again a few moments later. She’d tied her hair back with a long strip of red material, the same kind that occasionally fastened her curls with beads or feathers. Her ivory-handled blade hung at one hip like always. A lantern that normally hung in her quarters was strapped to the other, along with a length of rope.
“Zander,” she said. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Zander stopped. Something about the lilt of her voice held a promise—a promise that her eyes, dark and mischievous as they beheld him, promised she would keep.
The hammocks could wait.
Zander followed Ace through the jungle, walking just behind her as she made a steady path through the trees. As he watched her, he couldn’t help but think about the first time he met Ace.
It was in another jungle, similar to this one, and he’d followed her then, too. Ace had just cut off a local shopkeeper’s finger after he’d grabbed her without permission. His family—who were just out back playing cards—didn’t take kindly to Ace’s form of justice, and she ended up running for her life into the trees, where she found Zander.
He then had the magnificent luck of being mistaken for her accomplice, and she pulled him behind her into the jungle, fleeing the mob of affronted family members. She was wearing the same red vest and white shirt that day, but her hair had fallen freely over her shoulders. It flew behind her as she ran. The sounds of leaves and sticks whipping past Zander’s ears were only overpowered by the sounds of his panting as he struggled to keep up with her.
Now, her footsteps were measured and sure, and he could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing as they walked together in silence.
Zander wondered if Ace was thinking of that day as well. If the spontaneous kiss they shared on the beach before she left played in her mind on repeat like it did for him.
She was, and it did.
In fact, Ace had been thinking very seriously about Zander for quite some time. But beyond finding excuses to keep him close, to talk to him, to see his wide, open smile gazing back at her each day, she hadn’t dared to act on her feelings.
For there was one part of Ace—a part forged solely in the fires of this life, its sharp edges hewn by pain and heartache—that didn’t believe she could trust Zander, or any man who showed interest in her for that matter. But there was another part of her—one hewn into the very foundations of her soul—that knew him, longed for him, trusted him implicitly. It was this part of Ace that led Zander into the jungle, seeking a place to be alone once more.
For it had been weeks since she decided that if she ever were to trust a man again, it would be this one. But matters of the heart are difficult to resolve when one is surrounded by a band of pirates.
When Ace stopped walking and turned to look at him, Zander almost ran into her. She was staring at him with a strange expression, like she was anticipating something. Zander smiled at her closeness and then looked around.
“Are you scared of small spaces?” she asked.
Zander considered this. He’d been crammed into many small spaces as one of eight children in a small house, and though he couldn’t say they were his favorite thing, he’d follow this woman into the mouth of a volcano if she asked him to.
“No. I’m not.”
“Good. I’m going to need you to trust me. It’ll be quite dark at first.”
Ace smiled as Zander’s brow furrowed in confusion. Wordlessly, she walked to a small, rocky outcrop at the edge of the clearing they stood in and climbed over one of the boulders. She lowered herself on the other side. Then she disappeared.
Zander’s confusion lasted only moments before he heard Ace’s voice, as if from far away.
“Come on, Chicken Leg.”
Zander scrambled up the boulder and looked down the other side to see the ground open into a narrow, black hole. The rope Ace brought, which was tied like a lasso, was wrapped around a jagged stone that jutted upward from the ground. Its length disappeared into the darkness. Ace was nowhere to be seen.
A trill of laughter floated up from the opening. Zander couldn’t see her, but Ace had a comically clear view of Zander’s confusion as his face hovered a few feet over the opening.
“Your turn,” Ace said, her voice lined with laughter. “Do exactly as I tell you, okay?”
Zander climbed over the boulder and lowered himself, his feet positioned gingerly on either side of the opening. “Okay,” he said.
“There’s a small step just inside the opening,” Ace said. “Lower your feet to that point.”
Bracing his hands on the ground, Zander lowered his feet one at a time to find the step.
“Now you’re going to brace your body against the wall and slide straight down holding the rope.”
Zander took a deep breath and tried not to think about plunging into a dark abyss.
“Just let your feet glide against the rock until they meet the ground,” Ace said. “I’m right here.”
I’m right here.
Zander nodded resolutely and took the plunge. Cool air enveloped him as he lowered himself downward, the light swallowed suddenly by blackness. As his feet crested the step and found nothing but smooth rock, he braced his body against the wall and slid, his stomach seemingly falling slower than the rest of his body as he descended into utter darkness.
Before he knew it, the rush of air and uncertainty was replaced by two distinct feelings. First, solid ground beneath his feet. Second, Ace’s strong hands braced on either side of his waist to steady him. Zander let out a breath as one hand moved to the small of his back, the other to his bicep.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
Zander didn’t dare breathe too deeply, not knowing if he was truly on the ground or balanced precariously on another ledge.
“I’m okay.”
The hand on his shoulder trailed down his arm and captured his hand, pulling gently.
