Cassia froze, trying desperately to gain her bearings and clear her mind. Scattered on the floor around her were nautical instruments, books and what appeared to be rough-cut diamonds. She blinked hard to clear the spots from her vision and catalogued the newest insults.

A bruise now throbbed at the top of her thigh where she'd hit the corner of the desk. Her hands stung and her right wrist ached from attempting to catch herself as she fell.

But nothing hurt more than her pride.

Gritting her teeth, Cassia grabbed the edge of the desk and hauled herself back to her feet. As soon as she got there, something battered into the back of her right knee. She collapsed to the floor again, swearing as one of the diamonds drove into the flesh just beneath her kneecap. 

Pain lanced straight out from that point, lines of fire trailing clear down to her toes and up to her hips. She swore again as she sat back, cradling the knee, utilizing several of the more colorful explicatives she'd learned at The Raven's Well.

"How unfortunate," a heavily-accented voice said in Metian. "There go my hopes you were some fine-born lady worth a fortune."

Cassia darted her gaze around the room, taking in a shelf crammed with leather-bound books and curiosities, another table papered in maps before them, and a wall dedicated to a display of weaponry. Golden light from a glorious sunset slanted through three portholes that were to her left, telling her they were sailing north.

"Brunia," she whispered. Her insides coiled with dread even as she blew out a breath of relief at finally knowing where they were heading.

"Get up," that harsh voice demanded. 

Cassia raked her damp hair back from her face, staying where she was for a moment as her mind raced. A sigh heaved her chest and she tipped her head back to find the pirate captain towering over her, face dark as a thundercloud. This situation had soured long before she'd arrived, and nothing she did would sweeten it.

She couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at her mouth. "Fine-born ladies are worth a fortune in your slave markets?" she asked, her voice light. "How ridiculous. They aren't worth much in Metus. Aren't known for being very good workers."

His response was to tangle his fingers in her hair and jerk her to her feet. Bright pain tore through her scalp and she latched onto his hand, biting down on the cry working its way up her throat. When her feet hit the floorboards, he released her. Cassia stumbled a few steps away, eyes watering as she carefully touched her head, sure her scalp had come loose.

Those weapons on the far wall drew her attention.

"I wish you would," the captain said as he followed her gaze. 

Cassia swallowed, ignoring the violence thrumming through her head. She tucked her hair behind her ears, tilting her chin up as she turned back to face the pirate captain. For a long moment they both stood, each sizing the other up. 

As she had the first time she'd laid eyes on him, Cassia got a sense of strength. Of power. And rage. A deep-seated, relentless rage that would burn her if she fanned the flames too carelessly.

She wondered what it was he saw.

Whatever it was, it was obviously something hateful if the dark scowl marring his face was any indication as he stalked around the desk to sink into a chair. Resting his elbows on the shiny surface, he laced his fingers together and continued to stare at her. His icy blue eyes bored into hers. Cassia schooled her features to cool indifference, standing straight and ignoring the new throb of pain beneath her kneecap and at her thigh.

The ship rocked and creaked around them, Cassia effortlessly shifting her weight to meet each sway. His eyes flicked down, then back up, his lips pressing into a thin, white line. She didn't allow herself to so much as swallow as he continued to read her.

Even the smallest twitch or action would show him far too much. He rather reminded her of Marcus in that way, which was an unpleasant thought amid an already dire situation.

"Clean it up."

After so long a silence, his voice seemed to crack through the air between them. Cassia blinked slowly. Then, she let her head tilt to the side, raising an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

His eyes slitted dangerously. Cassia resisted the urge to look at that wall of weapons again. Even the hilt of a dull knife in her hand would comfort her. He gestured toward the floor, a silver ring on his index finger winking as it caught the evening light from the portholes.

"The mess you made. Clean it up."

Sheer shock numbed her tongue for a moment. She tilted her head down. Diamonds winked at her, surrounded by the papers, books and nautical instruments she'd knocked to the floor in the effort to keep her feet. Her eyelashes fluttered, her fingers twitching as fury rushed through her. 

"I didn't make this mess," she whispered.

There was a long, long pause. Then: "What?"

How a single word could hold all the bitter cold of a northern wind, Cassia didn't know. It was a skill she would like to acquire. She raised her head. "I didn't make this mess," she said, waving down at the precious stones scattered before her feet. "This was collateral damage wrought by your men's desire to harm me."

The captain's knuckles went white as he threaded his fingers tighter together. Cassia made a note of how easily affected he was by her every time she so much as opened her mouth. It was a dangerous weapon—just as likely to draw her own blood as his—but it was a weapon nonetheless, and she tucked that information away to be examined later. 

Proceed carefully, the small voice in the back of her mind warned. 

"Clean it up," he demanded for a third time.

Cassia held his gaze for the span of a breath before looking down and nudging one of the larger stones with the toe of her boot. In all honesty, there was no point in being so obstinate. No point in her pride except for pride itself. That realization didn't make it any easier to lay aside the habit. She bit the inside of her lip, struggling with herself. The captain's eyes flared and he rocked forward. Cassia held her ground for a moment. 

Then, swearing filthily under her breath because it was the only thing she could do to make herself feel better, Cassia crouched down. She began by picking up the diamonds, piling the rocks in her palm. She slammed three handfuls of the stones onto the desk's surface, hoping their rough edges scraped the varnish. 

The nautical instruments were next. Those, she placed gently down, not knowing if there were spares onboard and not keen to find herself lost at sea with a crowd of people who hated her guts. Finally, she began gathering the papers.

This, she did slowly, scanning their contents as she gathered them in her hands. Most were filled with Brunian runes, mostly unintelligible to her. A few of the letters seemed to share characteristics with Mortanian, but they were just different enough to make it impossible for her to read them. 

Not that it would have helped if she could. Etain had not spent very much time on vocabulary, instead focusing on key phrases and Cassia's pronunciation (which, according to the slave, was dreadful). Still, she couldn't stop her eyes from scanning each page, regardless of how vain the pursuit. 

It startled her when the papers were ripped from her grasp, the edges of the parchment slicing her fingers. Cassia bolted to her feet, just to find the captain bare inches away. Her heart caught in her throat, choking her as she sprang back and sank into a defensive posture, knees slightly bent and fists raised to face-level. 

A cruel smile twisted the corner of his mouth at her display of fear. It disappeared as he set the stack of papers down on the desk before returning to his seat. He propped his boots on the corner of the desk, his hands behind his head—a picture of ease. Cassia inhaled through her nose as quietly as she could, trying to convince her heart that it needn't work so hard.

Anger welled up—at herself for allowing such a display and at him for managing to provoke one.

Once her heartbeat had ceased its careening, Cassia  dropped her hands and walked toward the portholes. Careful to keep her body angled toward the pirate captain, she peered out of the thick glass, reveling in the sight of sunlight glancing off blue water. No land was visible from this side of the ship. She wasn't sure if she found that suffocating or reprieving. 

"The Sorveti woman—"

"How does a Metian whore end up on a Sorian merchant vessel?" The captain's words cut across hers, smothering them as she attempted to finish her own question.

Cassia's mouth twitched before she could master her displeasure. "Well, Captain," she said, voice dry as a salt mine, "how do most whores end up anywhere?"

The pirate blinked, cocking his head as she more or less called herself a whore. You can call me that all you want, she thought venomously. You think your contempt hides your wariness.

"You were bought?" he asked, a little disbelief slipping through his otherwise indifferent exterior. 

"Why else would a Metian go to Soria?" She wrinkled her nose in contempt. "Especially a Metian woman? For the scorching weather? The endless seas of sand?" She held a finger up in mock triumph. "Wait. The religious laws. That must be it."

"You must find yourself quite amusing."

Cassia just slid her gaze back to the sunlit waters. A seabird with a massive wingspan swooped past, making her envious. Her knee was really starting to hurt. Hopefully, he would get to the point he was trying to make soon.

"That man, he fights for you," the captain said, his words measured and slow—like he was tasting each syllable.

She glanced back at him, but didn't otherwise react. It wasn't a claim she could dispute. Not while Askari sat below their feet covered in evidential bruises. There was no explanation she could offer either, seeing as how Askari had never made her privy to the inner workings of his mind.

She didn't know why he defended her as he did. She only rarely cared, when her thoughts weren't otherwise consumed with survival.

"You were sleeping with him?" His tone was less question than statement.

Cassia was puzzled by this line of questioning. Why would he care for the details of her personal life. What did he gain from asking? A small frown created a divot between her eyebrows as she pondered this.

"You killed one of my men to save him," he pressed, sliding a knife from a sheath at his belt. She went very still, forcing herself not to shrink toward the wall. He smiled, like her stillness revealed something. He tilted the knife so sunlight bounced off the bright metal into her eyes.

Without so much as a blink, she said, "Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

He pointed the knife at her, removing the light blinding her. Spots danced over his face when she looked at him, but she forced herself to blink regularly. "How could you?"

Cassia sighed through her nose. "Perhaps they sent me to Soria because I'm not enough of a gentle heart. I'm not to Metian taste." She rolled her eyes, unsurprised but somehow disappointed.

It would seem Brunians weren't so very different from Metians after all.

The pirate shook his head, a grim smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. He stood, making every muscle in Cassia's body tense before she could master herself. 

"That is not what I meant," he said. "I know well the Metian thirst for blood and find it impossible to believe you have any heart, much less a gentle one. However, I was under the impression Metian women were forbidden from martial pursuits."

Cassia lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. What was he leading to?

To her utter astonishment, he flipped the knife into the air and caught it by the blade. The display didn't bother her. She'd watched Calix and Vestarin do it hundreds of times. She herself had spent plenty of time training herself to a few of the same fancies. What shocked and dismayed her was when he extended his arm, obviously offering her the weapon.

Cassia's fingers quaked and she laced them together behind her back, but not before he saw the tremor. Reading it as desire, he took a step closer to her, wagging the hilt of the knife in her direction. Offering it to her.

As much as she wanted that knife, as much as she hungered for the sense of protection it would provide, Cassia couldn't bring herself to step forward. She couldn't make herself reach out and call his bluff.

Cold and distant as his ice-carved eyes were, she hadn't failed to recognize that brief spark of desire she'd seen. He wanted her to take the knife. He wanted her to reach for it.

Which meant she absolutely shouldn't.

"I do not believe you could do it again," he whispered, taunt laced through each word. "It was nothing but a fluke. A lucky brush of Fate while he had his eyes turned to grander, more important things."

Cassia scoffed, hastily turning it into a cough. Black hate flickered across his face and she knew it had been wasted effort. Her blood went cold when he smiled, advancing another step. He had learned something. She had shown him something.

Cursing herself for a fool, Cassia resettled her features into disinterest. Strength could be dangerous here, pride fatal. Her skill—whatever that amounted to—was something to be secreted away until an opportune moment. So when he drew even nearer, she forced herself to cede a step backwards.

That was a mistake.

The pirate captain lunged forward, and Cassia flung herself to the side. She spun and launched herself over the surface of the desk. Papers and diamonds were scattered once more as she slid across the desk's slick surface, aiming for that wall of weapons.

Two more long strides and her fingers brushed the hilt of a short-sword. There was a snarl and a mighty crash. His body slammed into hers, crushing her against the wall. The blade of the sword she had been reaching for scraped her cheek, mocking her.

Cassia's hands scrambled along the wall before she was dragged back by the collar of her shirt. Like she weighed nothing, the pirate heaved her up and sent her flying through the air. Cassia closed her eyes, knowing and accepting that this was going to hurt.

A lot.

She collided with the wall, something in her side crunching as she slid to the floor. Her crushed, battered lungs struggled to draw breath. Cassia flopped like a fish, working to get her back to the wall. 

Large hands grabbed her shoulders, fingers biting hard into her flesh as she was dragged up to her feet and slammed back into the wall. Gasping, Cassia shook her hair out of her face. His palm collided with her cheek, the blow painful, but not as hard as she expected. A blow not meant to seriously hurt or injure, but to shame.

Cassia's ears rang as she slowly tipped her head back. He slapped her again.

The pirate grinned down at her, obviously enjoying her pain. Her humiliation.

That smile sparked the tinder of rage in her blood and Cassia snarled, flinging her head forward. Her forehead slammed into his mouth, blood from a split lip sprinkling over her face. A strangled yelp of pain and surprise came from the pirate, one hand coming up to cup his mouth.

Cassia jerked her knee up, but missed, catching the inside of his thigh. Curling her fingers into fists, she began to strike at every available bit of flesh she could. His breath whooshed out as she pummeled his stomach, hitting as hard as she could, twisting from her hips and spiraling her arms as Vestarin had shown her. She wasn't sure who was more surprised when he stumbled a step back—the pirate or herself.

Only one thought rang in her head: win.

If she didn't win, she'd die. He wouldn't forgive her trespasses here.

She brought her knee up, snapping her foot out in a straight kick that punched the ball of her foot into his abdomen, forcing him farther back.

Weapons. The sword.

He had a knife. He was bigger than her. Stronger. She needed more reach. Cassia half-turned, trying to find that short-sword. Everything else would be too heavy.

A battering ram slammed into the small of her back, ramming her into the wall. Nausea from the pain rolled up her throat. A foot drove into the back of her knee, sending her to the ground. A blow to the back of her head, made her eyes dim and sparkle as she slumped down.

"Sloppy," he snarled, grabbing her by the arm. He turned her and lifted her to her feet. "You've had some training, but you let your fear get the better of you."

Cassia spat, striking at him with her free hand, her blows horrifically weak. The pirate smirked, then added injury to insult.

This time, he slapped her hard enough to make her vision go white and make blood burst in her mouth. He struck her again and again, not stopping until the only thing holding her up was his grip and she was choking on her own blood.

Darkness was creeping around the edges of her vision, even as she struggled to hold onto consciousness. She didn't want to die and not know it.

Finally, finally, he let her drop to the floor. Cassia flopped to the side, unable to do more than open her mouth and let the blood run out so she didn't drown. Heavy, angry breaths drew nearer and she realized he was crouching beside her.

It hurt even to move her eyes, sliding her gaze toward him. Her chest heaved, her body heavy as lead.

He cocked his head, tongue flicking over the split lip she'd given him. When he lifted a hand, she couldn't stop herself from flinching. From closing her eyes and shying away.

A soft laugh came from the captain. He bent down farther to speak directly into her ear. "Remember this three days from now." He leaned back and wrapped his hands around her wrists, pulling her into a sitting position. "Behave, or more will follow, and not just for yourself. You're not brave enough to fight your way out of this, Lady."

With that, he tossed her over his shoulder and stood. Cassia watched the blood fall from her mouth and nose to splatter on the wood of the deck, swaying with each step as he carried her back down to the brig.

She was vaguely aware of a clatter of sound, then she was falling. The deck rushed up to catch her, jarring her entire body as she splashed into the thin skin of water covering the floor of her cell. There was a clang as the bars slammed closed.

Cassia slowly pushed herself up, staring down into the scummy water. Thankfully, it was too dark down in the brig to see her reflection.

A voice chattered above her head, but she couldn't seem to force the words to make sense. She spat, watching the blood plume in the water before a roll of the ship swept it toward the other end of the brig.

Hands cupped her face, forcing her to look up. Askari's face went from furious to horrified, and he opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

"Did you know fear tastes like blood?" she whispered before the blackness rolled in.