A Crown Cut with Salt
“Hear me. Stand down. No man on this deck is to be harmed.”
He hesitated, blade still hovering, eyes narrowing like a man checking a column of figures for the third time. “By the queen’s writ,” he said, softer, “all pirates are to be killed. Especially those on this ship.”
“And yet the queen has told you I’m a corpse,” I answered, harder. “Here I am, breathing. Touch a hair on any of these men’s heads and you’ll hang among them. Choose your sovereign, officer. Choose wisely.”
He didn’t lower the sword. He didn’t raise it. That was its own kind of answer. So I did the last stupid, accurate thing left to give the day. I moved between his blade and Kade.
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