Zander was perfectly aware of his naivety, however, and felt very little embarrassment in that regard. He imagined every member of the crew was naïve at some point—perhaps not so naïve as a leatherworker who suddenly jumped into the ocean one day—but he’d always been a quick learner. Rather than masking his inexperience in bravado, he focused his efforts on learning.

“I haven’t a clue, to be honest,” he replied.

When he turned toward Ace, she was looking at him—assessing him—with a small frown. She was standing so close and looking at him so openly, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He stood there, allowing her to look, hoping what she found would be satisfactory.

After a few moments her mouth turned up into a small smile, and she nodded at him. Then she walked away.

Well, that felt like progress, he thought to himself.

By the time the sails were reattached, billowing in the slight breeze, the Valerian was close enough to the merchant sloop to make out the men on board. Zander counted about a half dozen of them. The main deck took on an air of anticipation as the crew members not currently rowing positioned themselves at the edges of the vessel, weapons in hand. Zander felt strangely exposed without one. He opened and closed his hands, damp with sweat, to distract from the somersaults his stomach was doing.

Yarrow sidled up beside Zander, placing their hand on his arm for a moment to get his attention. Zander felt better already having them nearby.

“Zander dear,” Yarrow said quietly. “If you’d like to remain below deck—guard the stores, that is—that would also be acceptable.”

Yarrow’s blue eyes met his and Zander saw the kindness there. They meant to offer him a way out, in case this felt like too much. He was, after all, just a village tanner. A part of him wanted to kiss Yarrow’s cheek and run gratefully below deck to hide. But he couldn’t possibly hide while the rest of the crew did their job. This was an opportunity to learn, to do better, to earn his keep. He wasn’t embarrassed by naivety, but he would surely be embarrassed by cowardice.

“Thank you,” Zander responded. “But I don’t think I can do that.”

Yarrow smiled at him briefly. The kindness in their eyes was replaced just as quickly with a seriousness befitting their station. “Then stick by me, perhaps. Follow my lead.”

Zander just nodded.

Yarrow looked him up and down quickly, then removed their pistol from its holster and held it out to him. “And take this.”

Zander did, and Yarrow positioned themselves in front of him.

The next several minutes seemed to take an eternity. Theo stood positioned by Yarrow at the front of the crowd, between two swivel guns that had been mounted on the rails. Ace stood atop the forecastle, her hair blowing dramatically across her face, her cutlass raised menacingly in the direction of the small vessel ahead. Someone hoisted a black flag as they approached, and a warning shot sounded from the cannons below. The explosion reverberated through Zander’s body, and his heart began to beat in double time.

As they approached the merchant boat, Ace’s voice rang out across the water, loud and clear.

“Send over your captain or be ready to take fire!” she hollered.

In half the time it took Zander to draw a breath, the men on the adjacent ship raised a white flag. The one who appeared to be the captain stepped forward, his hands raised.

Zander then watched in amusement as what he expected to be a dangerous and daring attack proceeded more like a mildly uncomfortable business meeting. The captain of the other vessel boarded their pirate sloop from a longboat along with one other crew member. They were subsequently held at gunpoint while part of The Valerian’s crew boarded the merchant vessel in turn.

Zander went along, his nerves settling with each calm and steady dip of the oar as they approached the merchant vessel. As he crested the top of the vessel from the ratlines, he did not see the barbarism and violence he’d come to expect from every story about pirates he’d ever heard. A handful of men kneeled or laid prostrate, their hands stretched out in various gestures of submission. His companions—the supposed bloodthirsty pirates—looked remarkably similar to kids in a candy shop as they made to search the ship for loot. Kids with guns, and knives.

Zander did as he was told and stuck with Yarrow, which meant he was with Theo, too—the two of them never strayed outside of one another’s sight during the raid. Ace stayed on The Valerian, her pistol aimed at the merchant captain as she stood between the two manned swivel guns. She watched the proceedings with a calm and confident air, occasionally yelling out crude jokes that seemed to amuse even the hostages.

Zander lost sight of Ace as he went below deck with Theo, Yarrow, and several other crew members. He’d heard stories when he was young of pirates overtaking ships carrying vast fortunes and exotic treasures. When he saw what loot this vessel truly carried—and the triumphant reactions of the crew upon finding it—he had to stifle a laugh.

Flour. Sugar. Brandy. Spare sails, nails, shot plugs, and blankets. And one small chest full of coins, enough for each crew member to take a modest share. Perhaps enough for each of them to buy a new pair of trousers and some boots.

It was a far cry from the gold doubloons and gems the size of a fist that were so often portrayed in pirate tales around bonfires and in taverns. But rather than disappointment, Zander felt a marked sense of relief. This was far more ordinary than he’d anticipated. Swashbucklers his new companions may be, but they were just trying to survive like anyone else. It was far more his pace than he realized.

The crew transported the loot to The Valerian after that. Ace instructed two men to temporarily disable the merchant vessel’s sails, preventing them from taking chase if for some reason they chose to do so. Finally, the merchant captain was returned safely to his boat as promised, and the cheering, jeering crew of pirates sailed triumphantly into the sunset with their treasure.

***

That night, anchored in a nearby bay, there was a celebration.

Zander emerged from the crew’s quarters wearing a fresh change of clothes, his previous garments having been soaked through with sweat earlier in the day. The sounds of music and laughter greeted him as he arrived above deck.

The crew had two musicians aboard—Jubal, a Jewish man with dark hair and blue eyes who played the mandolin, and Sean, an Irishman with red hair and freckles who was skilled with a fife but occasionally favored using a barrel as a sort of drum. Sean, Zander recently learned, used to be called Bridget. “In another life,” he’d said as he and Zander got to know each other one afternoon.

The crew were gathered around the two men as they played a rousing shanty. The men stood shoulder to shoulder, leaving enough room in the center of the main deck for a small dance floor. Theo and Yarrow danced together, their cheeks pressed against one another and their bodies spinning in synchronized motion as Theo’s boots stomped across the deck in time with the music. Yarrow’s eyes were closed, a contented smile on their face as they followed Theo’s raucous movements.

The other sailors were in various states of brandy-induced merriment. Aled was attempting to teach Abdoul, who hailed from Senegal, a Welsh dance that involved tapping one’s heels and toes in synchronized motions upon the ground. Abdoul followed along, occasionally embellishing the dance with high kicks and hand movements that made the crowd roar and clap in delight.

Jan and Santiago, who hailed from Holland and Spain, had their arms linked and were spinning in circles, the drinks in their cups sloshing over the sides as the two men laughed, already drunk. George was sitting nearby, loudly egging them on. The rest of the crew were in various states of revelry off to the sides, some watching the merriment as they drained their cups, others singing, some playing dice.

There was only one pirate who hadn’t joined in the fun.

Ace sat at the top of the steps to the upper deck, leaning against the railing. She drank slowly from the cup in her hand, watching the crew’s merriment with a lazy smile on her face. She held her compass in her other hand, turning it in circles, a habit of hers when she seemed lost in thought.

Zander watched her from the edge of the crowd. Her hair hung down her back, bits of it spilling over her shoulder. She’d removed the handful of ivory beads that normally decorated her temple, leaving only a grey feather dangling from her curls. Her eyes looked tired, the fierceness and excitement from before now replaced with a quiet sort of contentment.

The invisible string that connected Zander’s soul to hers gave a soft tug, as it so often had since he’d joined the pirate crew. Whether it was because of his first successful raid or the celebratory ambience on deck, he didn’t know, but he found himself walking her way.

He made his way across the ship in what he hoped was a casual fashion. He accepted the cup of brandy offered to him by George as he walked by, raising it slightly in thanks before continuing on.

He took the second set of stairs to the upper deck, circling around to stand just behind and to the side of Ace. He stomped his boots slightly as he walked, to warn Ace of his presence. The last thing he wanted to do was appear as if he was sneaking up behind her.

He rested his elbows on the railing separating the upper deck from the main. From where he stood, he had a perfect view of the celebration. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ace. She was still smiling, but she hadn’t yet looked in his direction. A chorus of laughter erupted from the crew when Jan finally fell on his ass and, rather than getting up, simply laid down on the ground and passed out cold.

Zander dared to look at Ace then. A quiet laugh escaped her when Jan fell. From where he stood, her profile was thrown into stark relief from a nearby lantern, the brilliant night sky a barely-worthy background to her full lips and rounded cheeks. Zander struggled to look away, suddenly painfully aware of a sense of longing he’d never felt before.

“So,” Ace said, just loud enough for him to hear, her eyes still fixed on the crowd. “Chicken Leg. How was your first fortnight as a pirate?”

Zander smiled, thinking of how to answer.

“It was… different,” he responded.

Ace looked at him now, and he gripped the railing to prevent his knees from giving out. The string gave another gentle tug at his heart as their eyes met.

“Different from before, or different than what you expected?”

“Both,” Zander answered. He took a drink of his brandy and grimaced—it was strong. He mustered the bit of courage the drink gave him and moved closer, lowering himself to sit with his back against the railing and his feet stretched out on the upper deck. “I’m not sure if I feel much like a pirate, to be honest. Though I didn’t give myself much time to form expectations before I dove into the sea and chased you to your ship.”

Ace chuckled, her smile growing wider as she turned to face him fully.

“You really did that,” she said, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “You must’ve had some idea what you were getting yourself into.”

Zander shrugged. “I’ve heard stories of pirates, to be sure. But the longer a story is told, the more truth it often loses.” He looked around at the tiny sloop. “I thought your boat would be bigger, for one.”

Ace nodded. “Aye. Ships are slow. Difficult to operate. They’re fine for pirates seeking to build some sort of… oceanic empire, I guess. But far too unwieldy. They require too many men, and I’ve got plenty of men around for my taste.”