The new outfit he’d bought in Porto still smelled like the inn. He’d been wearing the same two outfits (one borrowed from the previous sailmaker) since he boarded The Valerian. With a pocket full of money and time to kill on land, he’d thought it was time he had something that felt like his own. He looked down at the white shirt, sturdy dark brown trousers, and black leather boots he wore. The boots weren’t quite broken in yet, but they were finely crafted and fit him well, the leather hugging his calves comfortably. With Bagu’s help, he’d managed to create two small leather sheaths in the inner lining, on the outside of either calf, to store his daggers.

He reached down to retrieve his new coat—an expensive black woolen frock with dark buttons, a silk-lined collar, and long panels that reached to his mid-thighs. He’d seen it in Porto and was immediately drawn to it. If he’d drawn a picture of the pirate he imagined himself to be in his wildest dreams, he would have been wearing a coat like that. But it felt too extravagant, too well-crafted for him.

Ace convinced him to try it on at least. The inner lining contained two hidden pockets of considerable size, and it fit him surprisingly well without alteration. He was just about to take it off and return it to the shop owner when he noticed Ace openly admiring how he looked in it, her eyes narrowed above a promising grin. Without another word, she retrieved a few coins from her pocket and paid for the coat, then pulled him back to the inn so she could peel it off him herself.

Zander buttoned the coat and opened and closed the door quietly, sneaking out to the main deck to catch the first glimpse of the sunrise. It was quiet on deck, save for soft snoring from Jubal, who was supposed to be on watch. The Valerian was still, its sails furled.

Zander walked to the forecastle and looked east, where the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon. He watched for several minutes before turning his gaze south.

He straightened. There were sails in the distance. He walked quickly to Jubal, waking him as he took the telescope from his pocket, and returned to the forecastle. Jubal sleepily mumbled something Zander didn’t hear as he put the telescope to his eye.

It was a ship. A large one, outfitted with serious artillery. It flew a Spanish flag, and beneath it, a flag containing a crest with a prominent eagle in its center. A feeling of foreboding overcame him when he realized it was headed directly toward them as they sat dead in the water.

Zander jogged past a drowsy Jubal to Ace’s quarters. The sound of the door opening woke her, and she sat up.

“There’s a ship on the horizon,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “To the south. It’s a Spanish vessel, and it’s aimed at The Valerian.”

Ace went rigid, one hand clutching the blanket at her chest.

“Is there an octopus on the bow?” she asked.

Zander shook his head. “No, but there is a flag with a crest. I can’t make out much beyond a large eagle.”

Ace’s eyes flashed with fear, and the foreboding Zander felt deepened. He fought the urge to go to her, to hold her and kiss her and promise everything was going to be alright. He stood and waited for her orders instead.

“Go get Theo and Yarrow,” she said. “Tell them to rouse the crew. Then come straight back to me.”

Zander nodded quickly and did as he was told. He rapped quickly on Theo and Yarrow’s door before opening it. The couple were laying in bed, Theo’s arms wrapped tightly around Yarrow, who had their back to him.

“Rouse the crew,” he said. “There’s trouble.”

When he returned to Ace, she was already dressed and pulling on her boots. She stood as he closed the door, retrieving her compass from atop a pile of papers at her desk. She turned and pressed it into Zander’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking.

Zander furrowed his brow, bringing his hand to her shoulder as if to brace her. “No,” he said softly. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

Ace blinked back tears, shaking her head in disagreement.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “There’s no time to explain. But I need you to keep this. You can give it back when this is all over. Okay?”

Zander nodded and placed the compass in his pocket. He tried to ignore the sudden rattling in his chest, the heaviness in his hands.

Ace took a long, deep breath, closing her eyes as if to steady herself. Then she took another step toward Zander and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the hug, and they stood there for a few seconds in silence, a heavy feeling surrounding them.

When Ace backed away, the vulnerability was gone from her face, replaced with the hard resolve of a pirate captain. She stepped out onto deck, Zander following behind her, and the world became a blur of sound and color in the morning sun.

The ship was closer now, its sails puffed out with a favorable wind that brought it swiftly toward them. The dark wood glowed in the morning sun, giving it an ethereal quality that sent a shudder down Zander’s spine. It grew bigger by the second, its enormous size and speed a strange contrast to the calm sea, as if the water carried it forward without a choice, as if destiny itself propelled it toward them.

Ace was shouting orders to the crew, telling them to get out of range, to outrun it. Zander heard her as if through a fog, his eyes locked on that ship. Something inside him squirmed in revulsion, in recognition, like a dog locking on to a dangerous scent.

“MOVE!”

Theo’s voice boomed behind him, and the world came into focus again. His feet moved of their own volition, his hands knowing what to do without being told as he joined the other sailors at the rigging.

“Zander, help me out, mate.”

Zander turned to see Theo wriggling his arms into a leather contraption that stretched across his torso in the shape of an X. He shifted so Zander could tighten the buckles on his back, securing the strange vest to his body. Upon closer inspection, he realized the leather was adorned with holsters—six in the front and two in the back just above Theo’s shoulder blades, allowing him to carry ten guns in total with the two holsters already heavy at his hips.

Before he could ask about the origins of the strange, ominous gun vest, Theo clapped him on the shoulder and jogged away, leaving Zander to return to the rigging.

More than half the crew disappeared below deck, some to row, others to prepare the cannons for The Valerian’s defense. Zander looked to the helm as he worked, where Ace was hunched over with a look of intense concentration on her lovely face. Theo and Yarrow stood to each side of her, talking—no, arguing with her, as Theo sorted through a veritable pile of pistols, loading and holstering them one by one.

Ace straightened and said something to each of them, her body language signaling that she was done with the conversation. Whatever she said seemed to pain Yarrow. Ace, her eyes softening, reached out to take one of their hands. They each leaned forward, their foreheads touching intimately. Ace reached out her other hand and pulled Theo toward them, and the three stood with their heads touching for several moments before they parted, Theo joining the sailors and Yarrow heading below deck like nothing had happened.

Zander looked periodically at Ace as he worked, hoping to find some explanation in her eyes, but she wouldn’t look his way.

With its sails unfurled, The Valerian began to move. Slowly.

Too slow, Zander thought, willing fate to favor them as it had their pursuer. But with every bit of speed they gained, the ship moved closer, closer. Anxiety riled in his belly. The Valerian could outrun any large ship in the right circumstances, he knew. But it was the circumstances that bothered him.

They weren’t prepared. They were caught off guard. They were too far from land, and the mysterious ship was already moving at full speed, angling itself to come alongside. They’d taken too long to steer into the wind and were barely approaching full speed. They would soon be in range of its cannons.

“GUNNERS AT THE READY!” Ace yelled, and Zander stepped forward, needing to be closer to her, just as the first explosion rang through the air.

Zander stumbled, the world beneath him rocking violently. His ears rang. Had they been hit? He looked around—the crew that remained above deck were hunching over, some with their hands cradled protectively over their heads. He realized he was crouching, too. Straightening, his eyes lay on the smoking cavity in the railing where he’d just been standing.

Another shot echoed across the water, this one missing the sloop. Zander moved on unsteady feet toward Ace, who was yelling for more men to help the rowers. They needed to move faster.

Ace gave Zander a look as he approached, gesturing to the helm, and he took over. Without a word she ran below deck, emerging minutes later with Yarrow at her heels.

Wave after wave of anxiety and fear rolled over Zander as he struggled to focus on the task before him. His hands gripped the helm so tightly his fingers ached under the pressure as he kept the sloop pointed Northeast, allowing the favorable wind to carry them away while pivoting toward the land that lay somewhere beyond the horizon. When Ace’s hands covered his own, he nearly jumped in surprise.

“We’re going to turn ‘round,” she said, her voice nearly swallowed by the sounds of yelling pirates. “They’ll drop anchor soon and try to board us. If we turn ‘round we’ll be sailing against the wind, but we’ll be on the wrong side, and they’ll not have time to turn nor reverse sail in time to catch us.”

She looked away from him, toward the ship that now loomed close enough that the men aboard were easily visible, as another cannon shot rang out. She looked just as unsure as Zander felt—they would be exposing the side of the vessel to the ship’s cannons, like a dragon rolling over and showing its belly. But Ace was right, they’d be on the opposite side, and their sloop could turn ‘round faster than any large ship could. They’d be counting on the hope that the ship’s sailors had only loaded the starboard cannons, allowing them a small chance of passing by the port side unscathed before they could load those, too.

Calling it risky would be an understatement. But the men couldn’t row forever, and the ship was gaining on them too quickly. This was their only chance.

Zander nodded at Ace, ready to escape or sink to the bottom of the sea. Her hands replaced his at the helm, and he rushed to help the sailors at the rigging, where Theo stood poised to direct their movements. Yarrow stood halfway down the stairs, listening for Ace’s orders so they could direct the rowers.

The crew collectively held their breath, waiting.

On Ace’s signal, the crew acted as one to turn the sloop around. The many hands of the rowers, those of the sailors adjusting the rigging, and Ace’s strong hands at the helm worked together with astonishing speed. Zander’s heart leapt at the swiftness of the small vessel as it spun.

This is going to work, he thought as they straightened, slicing through the water parallel to the ship. There was no way a ship of that size could turn around fast enough to make up the distance again. They’d likely sail through the day and night, the whole crew foregoing sleep to create more distance between them and their pursuer. All they had to do was get out of range of the cannons.

Ace screamed orders to open fire on the ship, but too late.