‘Don’t think I’ll do it?’ he asked. ‘Try me. After what you just pulled, I’d be glad to be rid of you.’
Trinica dropped her gun. Frey kicked it away from her. ‘Give me the case,’ he told her. She did so. She didn’t seem surprised that he was still alive, and she didn’t ask how.
‘They’ll kill me, Darian,’ she said. ‘When Grephen’s plan comes to light, they’ll hang me as a conspirator.’
‘Probably,’ said Frey. He was still angry enough not to care. The fact that she’d pulled the trigger on him had wounded him deeply. Somehow, he’d always thought she wouldn’t be able to do it. Watching him die was one thing, but this had a whole new level of cold-bloodedness to it. He felt unreasonably betrayed. Their past should have counted for something at that moment. You shouldn’t be capable of killing someone you once loved.
Trinica stared at him for a long moment. ‘What now? Are you going to take me back to them?’
Frey didn’t answer that. He hadn’t thought beyond reclaiming the charts. He hadn’t considered what he might do with Trinica.
‘You know there’s no guarantee they’ll pardon you, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You know they could just force you to co-operate. They might go back on their word after you’ve done what you said you would. Because whatever way you cut it, you fired on the Ace of Skulls. You were attacking it when it exploded. You think the Archduke is going to want to pardon the man who killed his only son?’ The corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. ‘You’re a traitor and a pirate, just like I am.’
Frey wanted to deny that intimacy. He wanted to tell her that they were not the same. But he knew she was right. She spoke to all his deepest fears. His whole plan relied on making a deal with the authorities, and he knew how authorities could be. There was no fairness or justice in them. They had the power to go back on any deal they made, if it suited them.
‘Come with me, Darian,’ Trinica said. That shocked him.
‘With you?’ he sneered, automatically.
‘I’ll drop you at a safe port. You can make your way from there. We’ll be under terms of truce, as one captain to another; I’ll see you’re not harmed.’
Frey hesitated, the sneer dropping from his face. He believed her. There was honour among pirates of a kind there never had been among the aristocracy. And yet it enraged him how even this slender invitation made his heart jump. Though he’d loathed her all these years, his body seemed never to forget the love they’d once shared. The merest hint of reconciliation, of alliance, ignited a yearning in his guts that disgusted him. He reacted by hardening his resolve.
Damn her. Damn her and her terms of truce.
She was no longer the woman he’d loved. The woman he loved no longer existed. Instead, he was haunted by her ghost.
‘Why take the risk, Darian?’ she said. ‘If you go back there, they’ll hang you.’
‘If I don’t go back, they’ll hang my crew for sure.’
‘Since when did that matter to you?’
He didn’t know the answer to that. It wasn’t really important. It had been an accumulation of moments: a clutter of drunken laughter, of triumphant grins, of gunfights and arguments and sarcastic little quips. The feeling had crept up on him stealthily, and by the time he was aware of it, he’d been overtaken.
Maybe he’d decided it when he chose to trust Jez with his ignition code? Or when he’d given it away to Trinica in order to save Crake’s life? Maybe it was that he felt the need to repay Jez’s loyalty: she’d come back, and he admired her for that.
He didn’t know when it had started to matter. He just knew that it did. He wouldn’t abandon his crew, no matter what the risks were now.
Trinica saw the decision in his eyes. A faint respect crept into her tone. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Look at you now.’
But Frey was in no mood to be congratulated. He pressed the tip of his cutlass harder under her chin, tipping her head back. A spot of bright red blood bloomed against her white skin. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.’
‘There isn’t one,’ said Trinica. ‘This is your chance, Darian. You take me back, I die anyway. So I promise you, I won’t go quietly. You’d better kill me now. I’d rather you did it than them.’
Her voice was utterly without fear. It was Frey who was afraid. He had no doubt that she meant what she said. She’d throw herself onto his sword rather than allow herself to be taken prisoner. She didn’t just expect death, she welcomed it. At that moment he understood how she’d become one of the most dreaded pirate captains in Vardia. Everything inside her had died with their baby. How could you kill the walking dead?
He looked upon the woman he’d once loved, her chin raised, gazing coolly at him. He knew he’d never be able to do it. Because he owed her. He’d turned her into this creature when he left her so cruelly. Maybe he wasn’t entirely responsible for the death of his child, but he bore some of the blame. He’d inspired her to do it. And, bitter as it was, he couldn’t lie to himself any more.
Trinica had suffered enough. It was written all over her.
He lowered the cutlass.
‘You’ll be hunted now,’ he said. ‘Not a freebooter any more. A straight-out pirate. The Navy will never leave you alone.’
Trinica stepped back, one slender hand going to her throat, covering the cut there. She stared at him with a strange, wounded tenderness.
He couldn’t bear it. ‘Get out of here,’ he told her.
‘You’re not what I thought you were, Darian,’ she said, and there was something soft in her voice, something that reminded him of a voice from long ago that had once melted his heart. He dared not let it do so again.
‘Goodbye, Trinica,’ he said. And then she turned and ran down the corridor, and he watched her go until she was lost from sight.
By the time Frey returned to the courtyard, the battle had ended. Six of the militia had surrendered. The rest lay in various states of death and dismemberment on the floor, their blood turning the dust into red mulch. Of the Century Knights, Colden Grudge had suffered a superficial wound on his brow. He was covering the Duke and the surviving militia with his autocannon. There had been no opportunity to use it earlier, due to the close-quarters fighting, but he looked eager enough to be given the excuse now.
Kedmund Drave looked up as Frey appeared, alerted by the rousing cheer from the caged wagon where his crew were imprisoned. Frey had stashed the charts and compass he’d taken from Trinica, and his cutlass was jammed through his belt. He walked with a tired step.
‘Didn’t expect to see you back,’ Drave commented.
‘Just eager to help out the Coalition,’ Frey replied. ‘Call me a patriot.’
‘Dracken?’
‘She got away.’
‘You think she might warn the others? Orkmund and his men?’
‘I’ve made sure she can’t get to them. But we should move quickly. They won’t attack while there’s no one to give them a signal, but they’ll get wind of what’s happened here sooner or later.’
‘Tell us where they are. We’ll deal with them.’
Frey laughed sardonically. ‘No. I’ll tell you what’ll happen. You assemble a strike force of Navy aircraft. I’ll lead them into Retribution Falls. Without me, you won’t know where you’re going.’
Drave stared at him, searching for signs of deceit. Frey wasn’t intimidated. Numbed by his recent torture and the shock of facing his own extinction, he’d become impenetrably calm again.
‘I’ll need my craft, and my crew,’ said Frey. ‘And I’ll need my navigator back too. How did she find you, by the way?’
Samandra Bree had wandered over by this point. She tilted back her tricorn and smiled disarmingly. ‘She told us she’d made the acquaintance of a very important fellow called Air Marshal Barnery Vexford at a party at Scorchwood Heights. Apparently, she had to do some quite appalling things to him to secure an audience with the Archduke’s representatives at such short notice. He is quite a filthy old man.’ She patted him on the shoulder. ‘You do have an admirably loyal crew, Captain.’