Chapter 19 - "I don't trust him."

The day had fallen into the next by the time the carriage came to a halt outside a two-story gray stone house. The city had turned to sleep and dreams, leaving the streets bare. The fog had thickened softening the edges of the world. Isla climbed out of the carriage, weary, her side throbbing.

All that could be done to clear the damage of the attack had been done. What was left was the rest for those who had endured it. Though she had said she would stay with the ship and take the first watch, Hawk, Brockton, and Orin had flatly refused to accept this. In the end, Brockton and Orin remained with the ship and Isla traveled with the remainder of the men to the one place that offered comfort in Isha.

Isla led the way down the stone path to the black front door. The crew followed, bodies battered and in need of sleep. The injuries they bore were ones any younger man could come back from with a single night's rest. But these men though strong no longer held youth.

Isla stopped before the door, her eyes settling on the bronze knocker. It was a depiction of a ship riding the sea. The sails were filled with an unfelt wind, the figurehead so detailed you could see the fingers of the siren, and the flag on the mast a thin enough sheet of metal a breath could make it flutter.

It was the type of craftsmanship only found in Seau. And only in the hands of the woman of the house. But to Isla, it was an anchor to a single memory.

The lantern by the door reflected off the knocker, setting it alight. Isla laid her head on Zev's shoulder, unsure of this unfamiliar world. In her father's powerful arms she looked no bigger than a doll, her four-year-old frame dwarfed by his.

As Hawk opened the door, they were led into a wide foyer that was cut in two by a gleaming staircase. The house smelled strange, a mix of baking bread and iron. Isla curled deeper into her father's hold, needing the solidity of him.

From the second floor, a woman with a willowy figure appeared. With the lantern light behind her, her silhouette glowed as she descended the stairs. She had flawless ebony skin, luminous black eyes, and short curly hair. Isla watched entranced as she moved towards them with the grace of a song. In a breath, she absorbed everything.

"What happened?" she asked her husband.

Hawk looked to Zev, who was a hollowed-out shell, clutching Isla as if afraid she might slip away.

"The fever," Hawk said. "It took Ara."

At the sound of her mother's name, Isla hid her face in her father's shirt. The burst of sunshine that had been her mother had burnt out. The cheery cheeks, wild blonde curls, a generous laugh were all stolen from her.

"You poor girl," Kiera said, stroking Isla's hair.

At the tender touch, she lifted her face. Sympathy, concern, and compassion stared back at her. When Kiera reached out for Isla, Zev released her and Isla clung to the woman that was fragranced in cinnamon and bronze. Strong arms that manipulated metal hugged Isla close.

"Come, you need something to eat," Kiera said.

As she was carried away, Isla glanced back at her father. Grief spilled over Zev's eyes and he buried his face in his hand. Hawk gripped his shoulder, bearing the pain with his friend and captain.

Isla tore her gaze away from the knocker and pushed open the door. The foyer was dark, the lateness of the hour seeing the house's occupants in bed. Hawk struck a match and lit a lantern that sat beside the doorway. The flame cut shadows on the floor and along the walls.

By the time, the crew had shuffled into the foyer, Kiera was awake and coming towards them, a candle in her hand. Seeing Hawk, she hurried forward and embraced him. It was a show of affection that betrayed her happiness over having him home.

When she pulled away, she swept her eyes over the gathered crew.

"What happened?" she asked, echoing Isla's memory.

"An attack," Isla said. "They need rest. Do you have room?"

Calm once again, Kiera nodded and motioned for the men to follow her. Raif was part of the group, Sparrow passed out in his arms. After seeing all the men into beds, Isla looked to Hawk.

"We need to talk about what this," she said.

Before Hawk could answer, Kiera interjected her own thoughts.

"Not until after you've had a bath and a decent meal," she said, eyeing Isla's face, which was haggard.

"That can wait-"

"No, child, it can not."

Kiera was the only one who could call Isla 'child' and keep her tongue. The hole of Isla's mother had been filled by Hawk's wife. For where her father and the crew had taught her what it meant to be a fighter and sailor, it was Kiera who had taught her what it meant to be a woman.

Not waiting for a heated argument, Kiera wrapped toned arms around Isla and led her up the stairs to a bathroom. Steam rose in waves as Kiera filled the brass tub, sprinkling in lavender and jasmine oil, perfuming the air.

When she left, Isla gritted her teeth and tugged her shirt over her head. The stitches pulled and pain flared through her side. She breathed through the discomfort until it was manageable. As she eased herself into the hot water, the tension in her muscles released. Even as she scrubbed the dirt and sweat off her skin, she was left with a cutting wound in her chest where her failure lay.

Kiera returned with a change of clothes and as Isla dried herself, Kiera gathered up the shirt and trousers Isla had worn. As Isla was wrapping her chest, Kiera turned towards her. At the sight of the fresh wound and the faint reminders of ones Isla had accumulated, she sighed.

"Dear girl, what has happened to you," she said.

Isla had no response. Her body was a map of wrongs that she couldn't make right, situations that she had survived, and fights she had lost. Kiera left but returned moments later with a healing salve. The aching in Isla's side dimmed as the ointment was spread on.

"Better?" Kiera asked.

Isla nodded, tucking in the hem of her shirt as Kiera deftly combed her hair and tied it back. The touch of her hands was so familiar from years of her childhood when she would stay in this house, watching as Kiera did her metalwork. For a moment, she was a little girl again and her father was alive.

But when she faced Kiera, the illusion faded. The lines around the woman's eyes and the streaks of gray in her hair signs that nothing was as it had been or would be again.

Down in the kitchen, Hawk sat at the thick oak table nestled at one end. The aroma of coffee wafted through the room, bringing a warmth that was different than that of a fire's.

As Isla took a seat adjacent to his, she touched the deep cut in the wood, a mark she had made years ago in a moment of frustration and grief. Now it was sanded down and buffed so it was if it had always been there.

Hawk slid a mug of coffee over to Isla and she sipped it. Though the stimulate stirred her mind, it could do nothing with the burden that sat on her chest. As they drank, Hawk eyed Isla reading the fatigue that had multiple meanings. When the mug was drained, Isla straightened ready to face the problem.

"Do we know who they were?" she asked.

Hawk shook his head. "I didn't have time to question Raif. They could be sent from his father."

"Then we'll ask him now."

Isla rose and cut her way through the house to one of the back rooms. When she opened the door, the whistle of snores slipped out. Besides the bed, the floor was dotted with sailors. They slept in a deepness that only the aftermath of a fight could produce.

Despite the slumbering companions, Raif wasn't asleep. Instead, he stood by the window, outlined in the faint light. He turned around, hearing her enter. She said nothing, but he knew, hoisting himself off the frame.

Before Isla left, she glanced at Sparrow sprawled out on the bed. Compared to the lined faces around him, he was merely a boy. A boy who shouldn't have faced what he did.

Nothing was shared between the pair as they returned to the kitchen. Hawk had retrieved a third mug and passed it to Raif as they sat. Isla studied the nobleman. His hair had grown and his face was rough and in need of a shave. The polished man that she'd seen on the ship that first day was nowhere to be seen, except for the tilt of his chin and the command in his stance.

"Were they sent from your father?" Isla asked.

"No."

Isla sat back in her chair, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Tell me what happened."

"An hour after you left, eight men with masks over their faces charged the ship. We barely had time to react. As we fought off some of them, others headed straight for the brig, not your quarters, which struck me as odd at first."

Isla laced her fingers together, gripping them. They knew. They knew that Raif was aboard her ship. If they knew then others did. What small voice had whispered that this might have not been her fault was silenced. This was her fault. She was the one that had chosen to bring Raif onto the ship and now she was facing the consequence. In trying to take care of the crew, she had hurt them.

"They were there for you," she said. "But they didn't recognize you."

She imagined it would be hard for them to, he looked like one of the crew, only his age would give him away. She looked to Hawk.

"Only the men on the ship know we have him." She balled her fist, hating what she was about to say next, the word poison on her tongue. "We have a spy and we don't know how many he has told."

Hawk rubbed his forehead, exhaustion, and frustration playing across his face. Before he could form a response, Raif broke in.

"Whether you have a spy on your ship or not, may not be the reason you were attacked."

Hawk and Isla regarded the nobleman. Raif motioned to Isla.

"When you took me from my ship, did you face my captain?"

The image of a gray-haired man in a dark blue uniform was conjured in Isla's mind.

"Yes."

Raif leaned one elbow on the arm of the chair.

"Then your spy might not be the source. How many woman captains are in this kingdom?" Isla could think of a dozen, but that was it. Seeing the answer in Isla's eyes, Raif continued. "How many of them are as striking as you?"

On guard, Isla narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide if he were flattering her or not. In answer, Raif pointedly looked to her blonde hair. She caught his meaning. The woman captains she knew were mostly Seau or Eldin, dark skin, dark hair.

"Then your captain has let know who took you," she said. "That means we have less time than before. Those men won't be the only ones after us."

Desperation snaked its way into Isla's chest. Not only would they be trapped in Lord Sutherland's hold, but now the kingdom's most greedy and ruthless were coming after her and the crew. She leaned over the table, staring at Hawk.

"We are running out of time. The deadline won't be met with the delay of repairs. Every day Raif stays with us is one more where we are in danger. If we forget delivering the collection and sail straight to Oxley, maybe finding the Serpent's Eye could buy Lord Sutherland's forgiveness."

Hawk was silent, speculating over whether the act would buy them their freedom or dig them deeper into debt.

"Lord Sutherland is who you are getting the Emerald for," Raif said.

Isla didn't answer. She didn't want to admit more than she had, even if it would only be confirming what he heard.

"I can talk to Regis. I've known him since I was a boy. He's had dealings with my father on many accounts."

Both Isla and Hawk were stunned. Though they were aware of what title Raif held, it had never crossed their minds that he might be on first names bases with the man that was controlling their lives. Taking their lack of response as an incentive to go on, Raif put his hand on the table, palm upward in a gesture of peace.

"Let me help you," he said.

Isla recoiled at the offer. At her reaction, Raif curled his fingers in and stood.

"Think it over, I could help mend what happened tonight."

As he walked away, Isla focused on Hawk, who didn't appear to be as opposed to the idea as she was. He was watching Raif, brow smooth in contemplation.

"No," Isla said.

"The men say he fought alongside them. He saved Sparrow's life."

"That well may be, but he has no reason to help us. We have kidnapped, starved, and dropped him in the sea. In all likelihood, he would tell Lord Sutherland of what we have done and we would be imprisoned."

"I have talked to him. I don't believe he feels anymore animosity towards us for what we have had to do."

Isla folded her arms, unable to believe that Hawk couldn't see the risk they would take in trusting Raif. Their lives would be in his hands.

"I don't trust him," she said.

Hawk held her gaze. Before her was a man that had been by her father's side since they were little. A man who had raised her almost as much as her parents. A man whose life she would sacrifice her own for.

For these reasons she found she had no argument for what he said next: "Then trust me."

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What's in your head captain that's got you such a fine mood?

(Well, I don't know what it could be since everything still looks dire as could be! 😣 Guys, I'm not gonna lie, it all looks so bleak even I'm having trouble being happy happy sunshine girl and that's my normal way of being!)

Tell me something good, tell me something wonderful, tell me something positive. And if you don't have any of that either tell me your thoughts! 🗯💬💭🐡

Gosh poor Isla, lost her mother when she was so little and then her father. Jeez the girl has had a rough life. Yeah, I know she's a pirate so it's kinda of given, but still she needs a hug!

*Ponders for a second and calls to Raif* RAIF! Isla needs a hug! Go help her!

*Hears distant laughter* Like I could hug her without getting stabbed. Funny, Joy, real funny.

Well, he has a point there. Who knew there would be a more prickly character than Carter (A Secret Service) I mean seriously, I didn't think it was possible, but here we are with Isla who probably wouldn't accept a hug from Hawk. But boy does she need one.

Chapter cha prashna (Marathi): What or who is your spirit animal?

I gotta admit Link Evans is definitely my spirit animal, clueless muffin, always on the outs, confused by life and when love shows up not totally sure how to handle it. Yup, that's me.

Vote for sprinkles, comment on flavors, follow the ice cream (You can't blame me, I had to go to a happy place)

This is what I imagined Keira to look like ☺️

(Also totally didn't have a name for her but stared at my bookshelf and took it from Kiera Cass though there could not be two more different people)