“A pirate can be many things,” she said. “A villain. A deviant. A treasure hunter. But in the end, a pirate is just someone who doesn’t fit. They don’t fit into the roles others make for them, the expectations—whether it’s their family, or their friends, or goddamned high society. Take this group, for instance.” Ace gestured toward the main deck. “Most of us don’t want to be rich. We aren’t looking for fame or fortune, and we certainly aren’t out for blood. We just want to be… free.”

“And are you?” Zander asked. “Free, I mean.”

Ace looked at Zander, and he saw a hard determination in her eyes befitting a pirate captain.

“I live for no man. And I’ll die for none.”

4

With his first official pirate raid out of the way, Zander began to feel more at home on The Valerian. He no longer felt like a fish about to be swept up in a fisherman’s net, but like a man with a job to do. He came to anticipate each day and its routines, came to value his own contributions to life on the sloop. He felt purposeful, needed—like he belonged.

He was, by all appearances, a pirate through and through. But there was still a piece of him that didn’t yet believe it, that was waiting to wake up, to be booed off stage.

It was therefore unsurprising when Ace approached him one morning and offered him a way out.

It was eight days after Zander’s first raid. The Valerian lay docked off the coast of Florida. Zander was finishing his watch as the sun crested the horizon, lost in thought amidst the silence of the sleeping vessel, when he heard footsteps on deck.

Seeing Ace, he startled slightly. They’d grown more familiar since the night of the raid, even approaching friendship. But that didn’t stop the familiar nervousness from kindling in his belly at the sight of her, dawn’s light reflecting softly in her eyes.

“Captain,” he said, standing from the place he’d been lounging on the forecastle.

Ace grinned. “You don’t need to call me Captain, Chicken Leg. I think you and I moved past ‘Captain’ before you ever stepped foot on this sloop.”

She gave him a pointed look, and the nervousness in his torso writhed into a sudden flame as he realized she was talking about the kiss they’d shared. He grinned back, moving to stand beside her as she leaned against the railing, gazing out at the water.

“I suppose we did,” he said. “So… what brings you out so early, Ace?”

Ace sighed, and her playful expression grew more guarded.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she began, her eyes cast down at the water just below them.

Zander straightened, suddenly more nervous than before.

“In three weeks, we’ll be leaving the Caribbean and sailing for Portugal,” Ace said. “It will be a long journey, and months before we return to this part of the sea.”

She paused, picking at the sleeve of the blue jacket she wore. Finally, she whipped her head sideways, so she was looking right at him.

“I’ve been watching you, Zander. I can tell you aren’t sure about your place here.”

“Ace,” Zander began, wanting to argue, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Trust me, Chicken Leg. I believe in you more than anyone. But you chased after this vessel in pursuit of something you didn’t understand—someone you didn’t understand. And as flattered as I am—as much as I want…”

Ace swallowed thickly, looking more flustered than Zander had ever seen her. She shook her head, lightly stamping a boot on the dampened wood of the deck as if it would tame her unruly thoughts.

“It’s not enough,” she continued resolutely. “It’s not enough to choose by. This life is hard, Zander. It’s wonderful, too—vast, boundless. But hard. And I must know the sailors in my charge can be trusted… that is, that they’ll stick around when things get hard.”

“Ace, I want this,” Zander said. He moved his hand as if to caress her arm, but seeing her eyes dart to the offending appendage, he thought better of it. He stood straighter, his jaw set. “Not just this”—he gestured between them—“but all of this. I want to be a pirate.”

Ace considered him silently for several moments before she responded. “We’ll see,” she said finally. “A few days before we sail east, we’ll be making a stop in Barbados. If you were to… disappear… no one would think the worse of you for it.”

I would, Zander thought.

“Just think on it,” Ace said. “You needn’t decide anything yet.”

Zander watched desperately as she turned to go, feeling like his life was crumbling like hardened sand between his fingers.

“I’ll think on it,” he called to her as she reached the bottom of the forecastle stairs, “if you teach me.”

Ace turned, a look of amused incredulity on her face.

“You want me to teach you how to be a pirate?”

“Yes,” Zander said, crossing the forecastle to stand at the top of the stairs. “I’ve learned quite a bit from the rest of the crew, but who better to teach me than you? After all, I can’t possibly make an informed decision unless I learn from the best.”

This made Ace smile, and she crossed her arms.

“Alright, Chicken Leg. I’ll teach you. And you will think seriously about whether this life is for you.”

“Deal.”

And so began the best deal Zander had ever made in his life, for it gave him ample excuse to stay close to the beautiful pirate captain.

***

The crew moved Southward again after a brief stay near Florida, winding their way unhurriedly through islands large and small. They stopped at occasional ports or harbors that Ace and the rest of the crew seemed familiar with, sometimes to purchase supplies and other times to rest, to play, to build a bonfire on a vacant beach. It still felt foreign, the ability of these pirates to live so slowly, so easily at times, and at other times so swift and serious.

Despite having traveled thousands of miles on his journey from England to the Caribbean, Zander felt like he’d seen more of the world in his brief time on The Valerian than he had in his entire life. In the stretch of a few hundred kilometers, he could see dozens of islands, all with their unique and subtle differences. These differences were pointed out to him by Ace, who knew every piece of land they sailed by like they were an extension of herself. She was keen at avoiding waters that were likely to have large ships, sticking to paths where smaller merchant vessels sailed and flying a false “friendly flag” when the black flag didn’t suit them.

Raids came to seem more commonplace to Zander as well, like an occasional trip to the market. Zander was coming to expect a relative lack of violence with each one. Most merchants gave up their wares without so much as an argument. The black flag The Valerian hoisted carried the threat of every villain who’d ever sailed the high seas, capturing vessels and killing crews, but the pirates on board The Valerian were not villains. In fact, Zander had come to consider most of them like family.

They only targeted merchant vessels, which Theo explained to Zander “Were probably moving stolen goods anyway.” It was a moral grey area Zander found he was surprisingly comfortable living in. They took what they could use from each vessel, always leaving enough so the men on board wouldn’t starve or remain stranded. This was quite easy to do, since merchant ships were stocked with far more wares than men.

Once the sails were disabled, the pirates would swiftly make their escape and continue on living. Normally, Zander boarded the ship with the crew, helping disable the sails, but occasionally Ace asked him to stay back and observe how she handled the captain—part of his tutelage.

After their deal was struck, the tension between Ace and Zander was replaced by an easy familiarity. She began teaching him how to navigate, a task that took considerably more time to learn than manning the sails, but which afforded him many opportunities to be close to her—not that it took great effort to gain an audience. They gravitated toward each other, like the moon and the tides, just as they always had.

“Do you think there are mermaids down there?” he asked her one day as they stood at the railing, looking into the water as it whipped by them.

“Aye,” Ace said, her voice reverent. “They live deep beneath the water. Utterly free. No rules, no governments, no gods. Just them and the sea.”

“You don’t think mermaids are Christians then?” Zander asked.

Ace snorted.

“Do you think we should drop a Bible in?” Zander ventured. “Try and save their souls?”

Ace threw her head back and laughed, the full, boisterous sound filling his head like the most wonderful music and making him smile.