“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see. I’ll be back in a moment.” He dons a shirt and boots before leaving. A cold burst of air enters the room as the door opens. That’s enough to wake me all the way.

I do some stretches, pull my boots back on, and try not to be discouraged by the fact that the map still hasn’t turned up. I’ve yet to check the aftercastle and the crow’s nest. Then there are still plenty of places belowdecks that need searching. I don’t think Draxen would hide it where his crew could stumble onto it—but as I remember the hidden panels in the smuggling ship, I have to acknowledge that there could be plenty of good hiding places belowdecks.

Riden interrupts my thoughts by coming back into the room only a few moments later. He doesn’t return empty-handed. He has a set of manacles in his hand.

“You’re going to clap me in irons, is that it?” I ask. “What for?”

“Numerous escape attempts, causing bodily injury to the first mate as well as several members of the crew, the death of a pirate—and for your own humiliation.”

“That reminds me, I wonder how interested Draxen would be to hear that you let me kill a member of his crew.”

“Lass, do you honestly think he’d believe you over me?”

“That depends on how much of a coward Draxen already suspects you really are.”

Riden’s face hardens. “That’s enough of that.” He clamps on the manacles. I can tell he enjoys it far too much. He’s right: The humiliation of it all will be awful. I do not want to go out there and face the rest of the crew.

I turn toward him fully. “When I get out of this, I’m going to grab my crew and hunt you all down. I will not stop until every pirate on this ship is dead.”

“We’re all trembling with fear.”

“You should be. I’ve some of the best trackers in the world aboard my vessel.” My heart warms with pride to think of Zimah.

“Are they fiery redheads as well?”

“No.”

“Shame. Now, let’s go. You don’t want to be late.”

“Late for what?”

Riden leads me outside. Naula is now far in the distance, a mere speck on the horizon. I wonder what our next destination could be.

The men are everywhere, scrubbing and mopping at the deck. Moving cargo around. Seeing to the sails. Draxen stands near the helm, overseeing the navigation. He has his hands at his belt, feet spread apart, ever-present sneer on his face. He looks down.

“Ah, princess, how are you enjoying your stay?”

I’m tempted to spit on the deck, but I don’t spit. That’s disgusting. “Just fine, Captain. But I’m more excited about what will come after my stay.”

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll hear plenty more death threats from you today. For now, get to your duties.”

“Duties?” I ask, looking between him and Riden.

“You’ll be assisting the crew with swabbing the deck,” Riden explains.

“Ha. I think not.”

“You’ve proven you can’t be left alone. For various reasons.” I can tell his mind drifts to his ransacked room. “And I’ll not have you being a nuisance, following me about. You’ll make yourself useful.”

“And just how do you intend to make me?”

“Liomen?”

“Aye, Master Riden?” a voice calls from a ways off.

“Bring me a rope and hook.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice answers with merriment.

I know exactly what that means, but the prospect doesn’t trouble me. Such hooks can be hung down from many places on the ship’s masts, and they attach nicely to the chains stringing together manacles.

After a while, a hook is lowered from up above. Riden places it through one of the middle chains on the shackles I wear.

He hesitates a moment, as if he’s waiting for me to give in. To agree to the work so he can take the hook away.

But I say nothing. I even glance away from him, as though I couldn’t be bothered to look at him.

“Hoist her away,” Riden finally says, a note of eagerness in his voice. All his hesitation seems to have vanished.

I can’t tell which is the show: Is it the hesitation for me or the eagerness for Draxen? Maybe both. Maybe neither. I can’t tell with him. He seems to go back and forth frequently, as though he isn’t sure what he wants himself. Is he trying to prove himself to his brother in some way? But why should he need to? Especially if his brother loves him unconditionally, as Riden claims.

Perhaps Riden can’t admit the truth even to himself.

I grip the chains on either side, just above the cuffs around my wrists. If I let the full weight of my body pull on my wrists, the metal would bite into my skin, and it would hurt. A lot. It’s best to take the weight on my tightened fists.

Riden isn’t blinking. Draxen watches the spectacle with interest. The pirates are all eager. They want some sort of show? I’ll give them one.

Instead of allowing this Liomen to get me up into the air, I give the rope a good tug before my feet get even close to being off the ground.

Liomen, either not expecting it or unable to stop it, falls from the mainmast. A few pirates duck out of the way just before Liomen hits the deck, cutting off his scream.

There’s moaning. He probably broke one or both of his arms. Maybe a leg. Hard to say when someone’s falling so quickly.

Some pirates laugh. Others, who must be his friends, surround him.

His moans quickly turn to cursing as a stream of obscenities are directed at me.

I don’t blame the lad. I would curse, too, if I were in his position.

Draxen descends from the upper deck, getting level with me. He looks at me closely before calling out the names of three more pirates. “Get the lot of you to the mast. I want her off the ground. Now!”

They climb quickly, hurrying to follow orders. I wait, bored. If there’s a fault with these pirates, it’s surely their simplemindedness.

The three men get to the top. They’re very careful, wrapping the rope around their wrists several times before tugging me up. I don’t bother to try to yank them down. It would involve more theatrics on my part.

Not that I’m opposed to theatrics. I just have something better in mind.

They stop when I’m five feet off the ground. Then they tie off the rope while I hang, clinging to my chains. A spectacle for all the pirates. They stole me. I am a prize to them, clearly strung for all to see.