“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.”
Zander nodded. “That’s another thing,” he said. “I expected the crew to be larger. More… menacing?”
Ace laughed at that, looking over at the crowd of drunken men on the main deck. Abdoul and Santiago had now teamed up and were making a game of embellishing Aled’s dance moves. Just behind them, Daniel, a short, chubby fellow from Greenwich, was vomiting over the edge of the railing. Amir, a deckhand from Southern India, stood next to him, his hand rubbing slow circles on Daniel’s back.
“You mean to tell me this isn’t the most menacing group of outlaws you’ve ever seen?” she asked playfully.
Zander shook his head. “Certainly not the bloodthirsty treasure hunters I’d come to expect.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Chicken Leg. Bloodthirsty treasure hunters have been known to roam the high seas. But you’ll find none of them aboard The Valerian.”
“Oh, I’m not disappointed at all,” Zander said.
“So you didn’t chase down my boat in hopes of fame and fortune?”
Zander shook his head, looking into his cup.
“What were you chasing, then?”
He looked up at her, daring to meet her eyes again, and it was like a door opened, suddenly and inexplicably. The words were falling from his mouth before his brain could reign them in.
“I was chasing you,” he said softly.
His tentative declaration hung in the air between them. A tender look flashed across Ace’s features, and he wondered if she was thinking about the kiss they shared on the island. A kiss so perfect, so life changing, Zander no longer knew how he fit into the world if he wasn’t near her. Which is why he’d jumped into the ocean.
Zander doubted he had any business being on a pirate ship. He had no clue if such a life was for him—if this adventure was his own, or one he’d borrowed, like a child wearing their parents’ clothes. But when he looked at her, a small voice whispered from deep inside him.
This is where you belong.
“I sure hope you didn’t leave anything special behind just to chase after me, Chi—Zander,” Ace said.
Special? Zander almost scoffed at the idea. In the face of the whirlwind that had been the last two weeks, everything else in his life paled in comparison. He felt as if he’d been wandering aimlessly for 26 years. Now here he sat, looking into the face of his very own North Star. And rather than being blinded, he felt like he could see for the first time.
“I didn’t,” he answered.
“No family?”
“My family is still back in England. All I left behind in Barbados was a shack full of tanning tools and my favorite shoes.”
“Oh no,” Ace said, chuckling. “Not your favorite shoes.”
“The very ones,” Zander teased, nodding somberly.
“Will your family worry?”
Zander considered his parents. What would they think of him running away and joining a crew of pirates? It was unlikely anyone would miss him in Barbados; he’d lived a relatively solitary life in the two years he’d been on the island. But eventually one of the many other English settlers who lived near him would wonder where the local tanner went. If word got back to his parents he was missing or presumed dead… well, then what?
Nothing much, he supposed. His parents would grieve him, and life would go on. Between seven older brothers and sisters, he’d never become very close with either of his parents. His father was more concerned about training him to leave home than getting to know him, and his mother was often unwell.
The realization that everyone he knew may soon believe him dead was strangely liberating.
“I don’t think so,” he said thoughtfully. “We were never very close. I’m the youngest of eight, and by the time I came around my parents were… tired. My father did his duty training me for the family business, and my mother kept me fed until I could feed myself. Honestly, I think they were somewhat relieved to see me leave England.”
“Quite lucky for us, I’d say,” Ace said, smiling gently at him.
Zander simply smiled back, thinking he was most certainly the lucky one.
“Eight kids, you say?” Ace said. “How did your parents keep track of you all?”
“They didn’t, most of the time,” he said, chuckling. “My brothers and sisters looked out for me when I was little. Kept me mostly out of trouble. They’re the ones who named me, actually. I was born Alexander, but I didn’t know it until I was sixteen. Everyone always called me ‘Zander,’ or ‘Z’ for short.”
