“It’s custom to kneel before your king,” his voice was a whisper that somehow filled the room. The words wrapped around her and tried to draw her to the ground. Elisabeth shrugged and threw off the compulsion.

  “We’re pirates. That puts us past formalities.” And past kings, but she kept the last to herself. If he was disconcerted that she was able to resist his small spell, he didn’t show it.

  “Even pirates have traditions.”

  Elisabeth fought the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t have the patience for his games. “Why are we here?”

  “You’re here because I summoned you, captain,” the word was an insult thrown into the room, “and you will remain here until I see fit to release you.” The building creaked around them in response to the king’s rising temper.

  “Highness, if I might…” Crofton sidled up near the lowest step of the dais. “Captain Wolf has come a long way, and she is likely tired. Perhaps it would be best to tell her the reason for her presence, and then we can send her on to her rest.” Elisabeth almost admired the little man’s courage in throwing that many words at the querulous sovereign, but any admiration was undercut by the implication that she was so weak that she needed to rest. As the angry gaze settled on the quartermaster for a few long moments, the weight bearing down on her lifted, allowing her to draw a bit more power into her charms. The room felt charged. All those assembled were aware that a battle was likely to ensue.

  “Very well. Captain Wolf.” Flat brown eyes slid back to meet her own. “You’re here because I need you to retrieve an item for me. One these gentlemen have not been able to acquire on my behalf.”

  “I’m no bloodhound to play fetch and carry for you.”

  “I am your king and you will obey me!” Again the building groaned.

  “Yes, and we are your subjects, highness,” Moira interrupted the conversation, smooth as only a skilled quartermaster can be. “Might I inquire as to what compensation the crew can expect for the completion of this task?”

  “Crofton, show the woman the books.” He waved a hand in dismissal. The two quartermasters shuffled backwards and were beginning to turn away toward a small desk tucked into the corner of the room. “Captain Wolf will kneel and wait.” Elisabeth saw Moira’s shoulders tense at the pronouncement, but her counterpart kept walking and she had no choice but to follow him.

  “Make me,” Elisabeth pushed the words out between clenched teeth, anger loosening her control and activating some of the charms braided into her hair so they threw fizzing sparks. She knew that challenging this king was a mistake, but she’d thrown off the yoke of empires and was in no mood to bow to any man. The other captains shifted in their posts along the walls. Their unease made clear in small, rustling movements. The palace creaked and grumbled around them, and the weight of the Skeleton King’s stare came down on her like a falling boulder, so strong it felt like a physical blow. The pressure built and pushed, and she knew that he meant to drag her to the ground. After an initial stagger, Elisabeth grinned and tossed a braid over her shoulder, hiding the tremor in her arms within the movement. He was powerful and she stood at the center of his kingdom, all of this strength at his disposal to attempt to crush her into submission. Goaded by her flippant gesture, he rose to his feet, his body visibly shaking with barely suppressed rage.

  “KNEEL!” The word echoed through the room, and around her, the captains and quartermasters dropped to their knees like felled trees. The thump of their limbs against the wood was stark. The sound of their surprised cries was hushed compared to the voice of the king. She clenched her hands into fists and ground her teeth, but did not move beyond a slight sway. No, not yet. The weight was nearly unbearable, and the dust of spent charms rained down to the floor around her feet, her protections falling away beneath the onslaught of his power. But she was not willing to capitulate.

  “YOU WILL KNEEL!” He moved down the steps as he flung out the command, his hand raised and pointing, the building shuddering in protest as he drew energy from the spells woven into the wood and stone. Elisabeth fought the compulsion every inch of the way as her right knee began to buckle beneath the weight of his will and his rage. Blood dripped from her nose. Sweat ran down her face. Her gaze remained defiant—she didn’t break eye contact as she slowly sank to one knee in front of the king.

  “All the way down, pirate.” He was past her defenses, the charms so carefully sewn into her clothing and woven into her hair already dissolved beneath her, so when he pushed his hand down, she was folded to hands and knees, her head nearly hitting the floorboards. “That’s better. Good girl.” Bile rose into her throat with the vehemence of her rage. The genuflection mauled her pride, and the condescension set her blood to boiling. In a haze of rage and with her skin resting against the magic-laced floor, Elisabeth took a steadying breath. Instinctively, she searched along the web of spells, looking for a way to undo the king’s command, to unravel the king’s power. The building creaked, and a fine dusting of mortar began to rain down on the room as her own power sledgehammered its way through the weave of spells. Piracy was about freedom. This man sought to put a yoke around her shoulders, and it was a thought she couldn’t bear.

  She ground her teeth and closed her eyes, focusing on fighting the magic that held her in place on the floor like a recalcitrant child. The more she struggled, the tighter the chains of power wound around her, until it became difficult to breathe and her skin crawled beneath the onslaught of activated charms trying to throw off the attack. The final line of defense etched into her skin, hidden away beneath her flesh. Her vision blurred. Blood now coated the inside of her mouth in a coppery tang. A buzzing noise filled her ears, underneath which she caught a fragment of a whisper, a shard of memory tugging her away from the terrible moment and into the recent past.

  A brisk wind tangled in her hair and tugged at her braids, setting charms chiming amidst the creak of wood, the snap of sail, and the rush of waves against the hull of the Silence. Elisabeth stared out at the night-blackened sea and drank in power, filling each token woven into her hair, sewn into her clothes, and etched into her skin. A trap waited at the end of this journey; her gut churned with the knowledge and the bones she’d cast earlier confirmed the tugging of premonition. She clenched her jaw.

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  “Captain,” Cressia, silent as always in her approach, spoke at her side.

  “What is it, Cress?”

  “What do you know of kings?”

  Elisabeth grimaced. “I know that I refuse to bow to one. And that I’m as free as the sea.”

  The other woman sighed, her veil fluttering with the force of it. “We go to see a king.”

  “A self-proclaimed ruler of those who would not be ruled.” She shrugged the title away.

  “That may be, but you must remember what he is and that the others accept him, like it or not.”

  “More fools, them.”

  “No, Liz, listen to me. I was a royal assassin, and I know the way of kings, and I know you.” The pirate captain turned to face her bodyguard and the first hint of annoyance settled between her brows. She didn’t want to confront her worries about the call put out by the pirate king that the Silence was to make haste to Skull Island or be hunted down, nor did she want to think about what waited for them within his lair. “He will toy with you and he will test you. He will see your pride. He will try to rid you of it; he will try to break you.” The moon caught in Cressia’s eyes, and for a moment, she looked feral in her fervor. “You must not play his game, must not allow your willfulness to shatter you. You must submit to him if you wish to remain intact and free.” Elisabeth frowned.

  “Submission is not freedom.” The captain shrugged. “And even if he kills me, he won’t truly win. You know that better than any.”

  “Captain, if he kills you and sees…what happens next…he will keep you in a cage and slice you up until he learns every last one of your so carefully hidden secrets. All men seek what you know.”

  Silence stretched between the two women. Elisabeth weighed Cressia’s counsel carefully, but to bow was antithetical to her nature. She was a blunt instrument with little subtlety or patience in games or in life. The threat of a cage and a man laying his knives on her—that she understood. A shiver threaded its way up her back, sending prickles of gooseflesh over her scalp.

  “Only promise me that you’ll try to be careful. Some things, not even a trained assassin can protect you from.” The bodyguard gripped her arm, and the intensity of her emotions was evident in the strength with which her fingers dug into Liz’s skin. “Promise me. Please.”

  Elisabeth raised her free hand and slid chilled fingers beneath the veil that covered Cressia’s lower face, cupping the other woman’s cheek.

  “I cannot make that promise. You know me. I’m a careless creature. But I will remember your warning, my friend. And do what I can to heed it.”

  Cressia nodded, dropped her hand, and withdrew from the caress.

  Pain brought Captain Wolf back to the present, the memory fading quickly as she watched blood drip to the floorboards and sink into the thirsty wood. She snarled—a last outburst of prideful rage and then ceased her struggle. The thought of being kept locked in a cage and cut apart was enough to douse her rage and dull her pride, though an ember of anger still seethed in her veins. She allowed herself, at last, to submit. The Pirate King laughed, the room booming with the sound, and the magic withdrew from her flesh, leaving behind only the ghost of an ache. Elisabeth remained on the floor, head bent, and focused on breathing, enjoying each slow, long inhalation.

  “Very good, Captain Wolf. Now we may continue.” The king broke the silence. “You may rise.” A torrent of fury swept through her at his words, but she swallowed it alongside the mouthful of blood that still sat on her tongue. She rose carefully, aware that her knees felt shaky from her struggle, unsure of her steadiness in the aftermath of the short-but-fierce magical battle. Without lifting her head, she let her gaze sweep the room, taking in the men silently arrayed around the king’s spectacle. All of them witnessed her submission. All of them knew her weakness. She hated them and their king.

  “The deal’s a fair one, Captain.” Moira stepped away from the other quartermaster with a brisk nod. “The crew’ll get their due.”

  “Fine,” Elisabeth ground the word out between blood-stained teeth. The compact didn’t matter to her. Having to consider it at all, only irritated her more.

  “We’ve reached an accord, then,” Crofton declared.

  “You’re all dismissed. Pack of hounds,” the king growled from his throne, scorning the men as he sent them away. A quick reminder of their station.

  “Gentlemen, please leave us so we might finalize the details of Captain Wolf’s mission,” the obsequious little man tried to soften the king’s insult, but Elisabeth caught an angry look here and there among the assembled captains and quartermasters. Cowards, the lot of them, she thought with disdain.

  The negotiations were concluded between the quartermasters, with Elisabeth glowering at no one in particular for the entire time. She nursed her bruised pride and refused to engage in even the most basic conversation. The king was similarly preoccupied. She felt his gaze resting on her for the duration of the meeting, his magic probing here and there, brushing over the charms that lay etched into her skin. Most of them were spent, lying dormant and silent in her flesh. It would take time to fill them with power again. So she ignored his attempts. He would gain no knowledge. Moira clapped her on the shoulder to draw her attention, and she dutifully shook on the bargain reached. Both quartermasters were smiling. She hadn’t heard a single word. The rage coursing through her veins was the only reason that she was even upright at this point. She let the other woman steer her through the hallways of the pirate king’s lair while she focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  When they reached the outer chamber where the rest of the crew waited, she began to gather her weapons with trembling hands and cursed her weakness.

  “You listened.” Cressia appeared at her shoulder, a silent shadow sliding knives into sheaths with practiced ease.

  “And it cost me,” the captain admitted.

  “As you knew it would.” The last of the weapons were returned to their rightful place, and the bodyguard withdrew. Elisabeth watched her exchange words with the quartermaster, both women clearly concerned for their leader, and a flash of hatred seared through her. She wasn’t to be pitied, not by her crew, not by anyone.

  “You lot best be going now,” one of the mercenaries at the door broke through her brooding. She turned on him as quickly as a summer storm. The tips of her fingers pressed against his chest, denting the boiled leather of his armor as she stepped close to him.

  “Your life is mine,” she whispered the words against his lips, and his body became rigid. The spell took hold, funneling his life force through her hand and into her flesh. Strength began to return to her as his skin paled and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor in a heap as Captain Wolf stepped away, shaking her hand.

  “Let’s go.” She didn’t wait to see if her crew followed her toward the door that led back to the street, the town, and eventually the harbor. She wanted nothing more than to return to her ship and the sea. At dawn, the Silence would set sail to begin the king’s errand.