As much as Elodie had enjoyed wearing her gown, she was more than happy to put it in her armoire and return to the plainer cotton dresses with the external corset that she could do up herself with no help.

The cold night air was welcome after the heat of the city, of the party and all that went in it. Elodie did not bother with a jacket when she went above-decks.

Already, the Albatross had left Yorkhaven and the island of Genista behind. Given what had happened with Captain Hawkins and Kas's intel about the location of the key with the magi, they needed to make quick time to make it to Los Dorados.

The southern archipelago of islands, which included Elodie's hope of Leonida, had been originally claimed by the Cartagenans, and it was only after they'd mined and stripped all the gold from the land that gave it its name that the Empire of Albion claimed them.

She would be so close to home. She considered even asking Captain Jennings if they could stop in Port Augustine, if just so she could see if the house on Brighton Row still stood. But she came to her own conclusion just as quickly that it wasn't worth it. Likely Hawkins had sent out a ship under the Black-Sail Fleet that would be finding the magi while they stayed in Los Dorados. After all, they never lingered long.

And there were likely other ships in the fleet that were around Port Augustine, watching and waiting for her to return.

After a month at sea, Elodie found herself missing her home. It was funny, how she had dreamed of seeing places, but considered them too far away, too outside the life her grandfather had constructed for her, to ever think it viable to visit. But now she was roaming the entire world, which was so much bigger than she'd ever dared to dream.

And even still a part of her heart yearned for home amidst all the wild wonders of the world.

As she stood there on the deck, watching the sails billow out and the ropes blow and the stars pass overhead, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned in time to see Ventus emerge from below-decks, also changed out of all fancy clothes.

"I delivered the map to Captain Jennings, so she, Carina, and Mr. Heyin are planning out their routes to go for the keys," Ventus explained. "Captain Hawkins has a good number of the keys already, so that will be something we'll have to look for eventually. But we can at least keep the remaining ones out of his hands."

"That's good." Elodie watched him carefully. She supposed he did resemble his father, as Captain Jennings had declared upon their first meeting. There was the blue-gray eyes, the height, and the dark hair. But Ventus had gentler, more delicate features. She wondered if those were courtesy of his mother, the siren Corisande. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." He sighed, looking out over the edge of the boat. "I don't have much of a connection to my old man. I've met him less times than I could count on my hand."

Still, something looked off-kilter, off-balance in his eyes. But instead of saying it, he drifted into a silence.

She supposed that Mrs. Hawkins's party had brought on a lot of revelations to them all. Her mind's eye drifted to the golden-haired gaudy boy who was conspicuously missing.

"Where's Kas, by the way?"

Ventus stiffened, something bitter crossed over his face, his teal-gray eyes clouded. "He's usually up by the prow this time of night, if he's still up."

He looked up to the sky, the bitterness fading away. "I'm going to go keep watch. You know where to find me if you need me."

"Alright, stay safe up there—"

But before Elodie could finish her well-wishes, he'd scampered up the ropes and left her behind.

So she decided to make her way to the prow, as Ventus had told her. And indeed, Kas was sitting in the little elevated sliver of deck behind crates and barrels right before the long wooden prow, staring out at the sea.

"Hey." Elodie's voice was soft, but it carried on the wind.

Kas looked up and managed a smile. "I thought you might come to see me."

"Really?" She placed a hand on her hip.

"Hoped, more like." He moved over, giving her more room in that sliver right before the prow.

She obliged and dropped to sit next to him. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on top of them.

"I like to sit here, see all the stars." Kas toyed with his spyglass before placing it back in his belt. "It's a big world, you know."

"I do."

He sighed heavily and looked away. "You probably want to talk about my mother, don't you?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Not so much your mother as. . ." Elodie contemplated her next words carefully. "Well, you told on my first day that it wasn't a big secret, what had happened to you."

He looked back to her, studying her in silence for a long time. "I suppose I did."

He looked away again, this time out to the endless seas in front of them. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret, darling. It's just—I liked you not knowing. Not pitying me."

"Why do you not want me to pity you?" Elodie lifted her head. "If I feel sorry for you, it doesn't make you any less. Not to me. It means I have a compassion for you, Kas."

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, all merriment gone from his features. He then looked down to his hand, the one covered by the glove with the fingers cut off. "I know that. But I'm not someone you should feel sorry for. I'm not like you—I wasn't a victim."

"What do you mean?"

"I've done things, Elodie."

Hearing him say her name should not have sent a jolt of lightning through her blood, a shiver down her spine, a thrill she wanted to feel again and again. But it did.

"Horrible, bloody things." He flexed his fingers, as if he were seeing them move for the first time. "Most of it, I'm not proud of. Nearly all of it, I'd rather forget. Not that it matters now. I'm good at those things now, so I might as well keep doing them."

He smiled mirthlessly at her. "Besides, now I know for sure I can't go home. I couldn't anyway with—well. . . "

He trailed off, and both his and Elodie's eyes found his hand.

"Tell me your story," she said, looking to his face again. "Please."

He paused, hesitation shadowing his features. Then he let out a shuddering breath. "Alright."

He looked up to the sky, his lips moving wordlessly. Then he nodded, as if to himself, and began.

"I grew up in Silvershire, on one of the bigger estates in the heart of the Empire of Albion." The corners of his mouth turned upwards in the ghost of a smile. "I was the second son, so no one paid me much attention. And all my life, there were whispers. . . well, you know what about."

She did. She knew them well—for she also had been whispered about, as a known bastard daughter of a bastard daughter.

"But I lived a normal, idyllic childhood, I suppose." He tilted his head. "It was until I was sent off to boarding school. Likely because of the whole bastard thing, but I didn't know that. All my life, my tutors thought I was too clever for my own good, so nearly everyone thought it was a good idea. I might have enjoyed it there, but I wasn't exactly there long."

Elodie nodded.

Kas sighed. "One of the pirates of the Black-Sail Fleet, Captain Caradoc Madigan of the Morgenstern had a scheme. Since our school was in one of the southern colonies, by the sea, he decided there were easy pickings for a ransom. We were all stolen, right out from our beds."

"You must have been frightened." Elodie shuddered, remembering her own capture at the hands of Captain Reynard.

"I was." His voice was so quiet, she strained to hear it. "But I had no idea that that wasn't what should have frightened me. What came next was so much worse."

Elodie frowned and touched a hand to his shoulder. He jumped, turning his head to look at her.

For the briefest moment, he smiled before continuing his story.

"The others were ransomed soon enough. But mine never came in, and Captain Madigan decided he had other plans for me." He lifted the gloved hand. "He fancied to take a noble-born boy with a silver spoon in his mouth and force him to work for him, to grind him into the dust, to do whatever he pleased. He told me he wanted to make me something as ugly as him."

Elodie did not know what to say to this. So she said nothing.

"At some point, they'd stolen one of the brands from the inquisitors of Cartagena," Kas continued. "And they thought it would be great fun to brand their new whipping boy with the mark of the enemies of Cartagena."

With that, he began to remove his glove. Elodie managed to hold in a gasp as she saw it.

The Jolly Roger, scarred into the back of his hand.

The very mark that her mother wore on her shoulder.

How both the empires of Cartagena and Albion warned of a convicted pirate.

"And with that, he made sure I could never come home again." Kas looked up to her, an obviously forced smile. "And with the things he made me do, the things I had to do to get away, to survive—well, I suppose I earned the brand, darling."

Elodie frowned, instead taking his hand gently into hers. "Does it pain you?"

"Not now." She could feel his eyes on her, watching her closely, studying her reaction. "Hurt like a bitch when it happened, though."

"I can't even imagine." She looked up at him, and he frowned.

"You really shouldn't pity me."

"And what if I do?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder and met his gaze. "What then, Kas?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"I truly am sorry for what happened to you." She lightly brushed a thumb over the mark. "It doesn't make me like you any less, you know."

"I—" he visibly swallowed. "Thank you."

She let go of his hand, and he slipped the glove back on.

"I won't tell anyone."

He laughed humorlessly. "They already know."

Elodie considered him for a moment. "I stand by what I thought, however, when I first learned about all of this."

"And what's that?"

"You're like me, like it or not." She managed a smirk of her own. "Bastards and pirates and the gentlefolk alike."

"I only wish I could be like you." Kas looked away again. "You have some place to go after this, a real home. For you, this is a fine adventure—but it will come to an end, as all things do. It'll be a story to tell your children, or guests at parties."

"What if you came with me?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"I can't, remember?" He lifted his hand. "People will ask questions."

"They won't." She shook her hand and wrapped her hand around his wrist. "After all, Keira Fleetwood was an eccentric mistress of the estate. Of course her successors would be no different."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then back out to the sea again. "It's a nice dream, darling. I just wish it could be so."

He then rose to his feet and extended his hand to Elodie. "You should get back to your cabin. It's been a late night."

"I suppose you're right." Elodie pressed her lips together as she accepted his hand.

He pulled her up in a simple swoop, one that left her a little breathless.

Or maybe it was looking into his eyes that stole her breath away.

"Thank you," she said, as they started walking across the deck, toward the door that would lead to the cabins below.

"For what?" He looked to her, startled.

"For a nice night." She thought of the ballroom in Mrs. Hawkins's mansion again, the swirling silk and the swooning of the orchestra. Then she thought of what had just come to pass, with secrets shared in starlight. "And for trusting me."

"Oh." He visibly swallowed before regaining his usual cocky composure. "You're certainly an interesting woman, Elodie Fleetwood."

She still wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, even once she was alone in her cabin again.