“Yes. It’s the tallest building in London. I used to beg my mother to walk us there when I was a kid.”

“And did she?”

“Only once. But my sister Martha would walk me there sometimes. Looking at that building, it felt like I was in a different world entirely. Like anything was possible.”

Zander paused, thinking of his sister as he wrapped one of Ace’s curls around his finger. Martha was his dearest friend as a child. She taught him everything—or everything that seemed important as a child, anyway—like how to play huzzlecap, and where one is most likely to find bread that’s been thrown out. She married young, and he hardly ever saw her after that. He wondered if she’d dreamt of leaving their life behind when she looked at St. Paul’s, too.

“I was standing in front of that cathedral when I decided to leave London. I stood there for an hour perhaps, just staring. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. The idea of turning around and going back to my life—to the life I was given by my father—it felt like it would kill me. I decided I’d get on any boat, go anywhere, just to be somewhere different than where I was.”

Ace looked up at him, understanding on her face. He smiled at her, envisioning her standing in front of St. Paul’s cathedral, her trousers and vest replaced by a dress, a silk fan in place of her ivory blade. He wrinkled his nose at the image. It felt wrong somehow, imagining her hair pinned tightly to her head instead of tangled around her shoulders, her gorgeous legs hidden under layers of restrictive cloth.

“What is it?” Ace asked, frowning at his expression.

“I was imagining you in a bodice and skirt,” he said.

Ace’s face twisted in shock, and Zander burst out laughing at the intensity of her reaction.

“Why in the world would you imagine such a thing?” she asked. She ran her fingernails quickly up and down her arms. “Just thinking of it makes me itchy.”

Zander kissed her forehead, smothering another laugh against her cool skin.

“Don’t worry, I prefer you in pants. Or rather, out of them,” Zander said, stroking her bottom appreciatively. “I was just wondering what it would be like if I met you in London, when I was younger. But the image didn’t fit. It was like imagining the ocean resting comfortably in a glass jar.”

Zander sighed, running the edge of his thumb against Ace’s cheek. “I still feel like that little boy sometimes, Ace. Gazing up at something beautiful, imagining I could be a part of it. Playing pirate and hoping no one recognizes me as the tanner’s boy.”

Ace sat up. She looked at Zander with a thoughtful expression, then reached out her hand and placed it over his heart.

“I know you, Zander,” she said. “I know who you are. The day we met, when you told me that meeting me was possibly the last surprising thing that would ever happen to you—that it would all be downhill from there… I knew you then. I’ve been there, facing an endless loop of monotony and predictability. I’ve felt the same desperation to run, to find something, anything, that felt like me.

“It wasn’t until I was out there on the water, totally free from the expectations of society, that I found myself. You’re a pirate, Zander. You may not feel like it yet, but you are. It’s written like a treasure map on your skin, in your eyes, in the way that you taste. You’re not a nameless little boy, dreaming of adventure. You’re free. You’re a pirate. You’re my pirate.”

She leaned down and kissed him fiercely then, and Zander almost believed her.

***

Four days later, they sailed away from Porto, Abilio’s home shrinking in the distance behind them.

The energy of the crew was markedly different from when they made port. A mix of restlessness and deep satisfaction filled the air as they entered open water once more, heading for new shores and new opportunities. Several of the men wore new clothes, and more than a few looked transformed by ample rest and recreation. The only pirate missing was Declan, who never showed up the morning they left, and whom no one had seen since they docked. A quick search showed he’d taken everything he owned with him. No one seemed surprised. He hadn’t been the same since Ace killed Thomas.

As the shore shrunk into the distance behind them, Jubal started to sing. Soon, the crew joined in, and they set out to sea with a shanty on their lips.

Ace stood at the mast, her telescope to her eye and a smile on her face as she gazed out at the water. When she lowered it, she caught Zander’s eye and winked.

His stomach flipped as he thought of the last few days, so much of it spent in their noisy room at the inn. A part of him wanted to go back. But he had begun to miss the smell of the ocean air, the sting of the water, the immense task of each new day. He felt relieved to be back on board.

The weight of the raid-gone-sour had finally lifted from Zander’s mind. Ace seemed lighter than she had in weeks. Theo and Yarrow were full of smiles, and Zander found he’d missed them more than anything else over the past four days.

For the first time in a long time, Zander was confident that everything was going to be alright.

Once, he roamed the depths of the ocean, hungry and searching for prey. The last of his kind.

The bowels of the sea were his home, the inky black water enveloping him, frigid and unforgiving—as was he.

He knew nothing but hunger.

When the abyss of his home didn’t provide the sustenance he required, he followed the promise of food upward. His jaws snapping, tentacles thrashing, he would fly across the expanse of the sea, listening for the telltale sound of a ship upon the water.

And when he found it, he devoured it.

One night, the familiar cut, cut, cut of wood on water filled his senses. He propelled himself upward, toward the offensive sound, the promise of a feast waiting—wood, flesh, bone, and metal.

Another sound mingled with the ship’s resonance, something that lilted and warbled in a strange rhythm.

Song, something told him.

Food, his body responded.

He pushed harder, the sound filling his mind, his hunger propelling him furiously forward.

The sounds grew louder. Cut, cut, cut. Warble, lilt, warble.

Wood, flesh, bone, metal.

He emerged in the too-warm air without stopping, spraying the invading vessel with a barrage of water that smothered the strange melody. He gave no other warning before wrapping himself around his quarry and squeezing. The ship groaned in protest, the last desperate cries of a dying animal. He felt the strangled echoes of its demise in his body. His appetite swelled in response.

He was about to open his jaws, to savor the first taste of a successful hunt, when a piercing cry rang through the air and a blinding pain echoed through his brain.

He caught sight of the small creature just before it attacked again. The tiny stick in its claws was tipped with metal—metal he could crunch between his jaws if only he could reach it. But the creature positioned itself at the edge of the dying ship and leapt forward, weapon in hand.

In the brief moment in which she remained suspended above him, he saw reflected in her small round eyes the same feeling that had driven him throughout the many long years of his life: hunger.

In the next moment, he was blind.

Freeing one of his tentacles from the ship, he whipped it toward his face, wrapping around the tiny creature whose hunger somehow matched his own. He felt the weapon drive deeper before he pulled her away, howling, and the blindness began to numb his other senses.

In a last anguished attempt to defeat his foe, he squeezed, not relenting until he heard the deafening crack of the ship, felt the last shudder of its life reverberate upon the surface of the sea before it succumbed.

He was dying, sinking alongside the feast of wood, flesh, bone, and metal. The tiny, fierce creature was still clasped in his tentacle like a prize he would take with him to the afterlife.

With the last of his strength, he brought the prize to his waiting jaws and savored his final meal.

9

Zander slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, stretching his bare body languidly. Ace still lay in bed, a serene look on her face in the dim light. He wanted to go back to her. But he’d woken suddenly before dawn, and he was restless as soon as his eyes opened. He’d lain there for several minutes before accepting he couldn’t go back to sleep.

His clothes were folded neatly by the door. Ace’s were thrown haphazardly in a pile nearby. He smirked as he retrieved his garments and pulled them on.