Chapter 3

  They lay there afterward, panting. Their sessions were always a whirlwind. Jonathon was never quite sure how much time passed during each round or what it even was that they did half the time. He just knew that whatever it was, however long it lasted, it worked for him. And it seemingly worked for her too, though she would die before admitting it to his face.

  “You’re contemplative tonight,” Scarlett said, rolling over to trace her fingers through his hair. “And you need to let your hair grow out more. This beautiful brown hair shouldn’t be cut so short all the time. There are women here who would kill for hair as full and wavy as yours, y’know, and yet you squander it away with,” she paused, searching for the right words before finally giving up and letting go of his hair, “whatever it is you decide to do with it that week. Besides, what kind of pirate doesn’t have long hair that blows in the wind as he hangs from the side of his ship?”

  Jonathon chuckled. “You know that’s just the stories you and the girls make up about pirates, right? Real pirates don’t do that. We have much more important things to do than waste time lollygagging, hanging from a net somewhere out past the safety of the ship.”

  He was lying, of course. He loved hanging off the ratline, the wind and spray of the sea on his face. But no way was he going to admit that to her.

  “Is that so?” she asked, disappointed. “Well, I bet you’d look dashing doing it. Maybe you should try it sometime. Who knows? You may find a new favorite pastime, aside from your nights with me, that is.” She added with a playful wink.

  He smiled. She wasn’t wrong. On land, there wasn’t any better place to be than The Sleeping Siren. The Plot and Plaster was a close second, but unfortunately–or perhaps fortunately, for Greig–Scarlett’s company far exceeded that of the bar’s proprietor.

  “Mayhaps I shall, then. Mayhaps I won’t. Who’s to say?” Jonathon bantered coyly.

  She smiled at him, and silence drifted between them as they stared at each other. She let the comfortable silence play out for a moment. Then, with a touch of curiosity in her voice, she said, “So, rumor has it you’ve gotten another hot tip on your legend,” her voice without a hint of mockery. “Care to share anything with me?”

  Jonathon smiled at the woman, her eyes probing like the bauble of a fisher’s line. He never could tell if her questions were out of genuine interest or because she was being paid. Regardless, he appreciated it. It was nice to have someone to talk to about The Spectre without the silent judgment he had become accustomed to receiving. He shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. “Nothing solid. Just a rumor about a tribe to the north that reportedly has a piece of The Spectre herself.”

  He was lying again, at least partially. The truth was, he didn’t have much more than a vague direction–a jungle and the whisper of an old tale. By most standards, it was a flimsy lead, but he couldn’t dismiss it. His source had never steered him wrong before, especially when it came to profitable raids. And every scrap of information about The Spectre, no matter how thin, had always pointed him closer to something real.

  He got up and began pacing the room, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his thigh, his eyes the only thing on his face that betrayed his certainty. He wanted to believe that this tip was the real deal, that for once, he was on the brink of something–not just chasing shadows. But Jonathon never liked looking desperate, especially not in front of Scarlett.

  He paused by the window, staring into the silent night. In the morning, he’d meet with his crew and begin preparations to ship out the day after tomorrow. A weak lead was better than nothing, and this might be the closest he’d ever get. And sure, the riches would mean he and his crew would never need to work again, but for Jonathon, the real prize was the ship itself–The Spectre. His heart began to race with his growing excitement.

  “Is everything okay?” came Scarlett’s gentle voice, bringing Jonathon back to the present.

  He shook his head. “Of course,” he said slowly, trying to figure out how to explain his extended silence and sudden pacing. “I was just…observing the room.” He began to look around, as if studying.

  All of the rooms in The Sleeping Siren were designed the same–a single entryway into a square little room with a window that overlooked the street below. Each room also came with a furnace for the colder months of the year, though they were rarely needed while the room was in use. The differences in each room came from the individual’s personal preference for decor. For instance, Jasmine preferred the simpler, no-nonsense look of a single dresser to place things on and a bed for business, relying more on her own exoticism to serve as stimulation for her guests. Others, like Scarlett, preferred to show a bit of their creativity and personality in their decor.

  In her case, Scarlett had her furnace tucked in the back corner of the room, a dresser with a large mirror in the corner closest to the door, and a small table with two chairs by the window. She had also taken the time to paint the walls herself–or at least had a client who did it for her; he wasn’t sure which. Unlike most of the girls who either left their walls bare or painted them a dark and sultry color in an attempt to increase the seductive nature of the room, Scarlett had painted her walls a lighter beige, a choice that had always baffled him considering he felt the color was so boring.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A noise from the street below caused Jonathon to peek out the window in distracted curiosity. Two men were laughing and singing, arms wrapped around each other, as they exited The Sleeping Siren and made their way back toward the docks. As he observed the men, a genuine realization struck him. “You know, it’s strange. I know you girls all have the same-sized rooms, but yours feels larger to me for some reason,” he said, their prior conversation lost to the tides of thought.

  “Is that so?” Scarlett teased, accustomed to Jonathon’s wandering mind. “Strange. It’s almost as if it was intentional.” He’d come back to her original probing eventually, she knew, but for now, he had drifted. She had learned that about him during their time together. Jonathon’s mind was a sea of shifting tides–never still, always exploring. In fact, she wasn’t sure which was vaster: the sea or the number of topics Jonathon pondered throughout the day. He wasn’t the smartest man she had ever met by any means, but he was gifted with curiosity and common sense, a combination that often added up to something greater than just smarts.

  “What do you mean intentional?” he asked, curiosity thick in his voice. “Did you somehow add on to your room? No, you couldn’t have done that, it would have been noticed. And you actually have more things in your room than most of the other girls, so it can’t be that. That only leaves the walls themselves…or some form of mysticism.” He paused his pacing and began scrutinizing the room. After about a minute, he concluded, “It’s either mysticism, or something about the color of the walls you’ve picked. I’ve always thought the color seemed more boring than you would pick, but now I wonder.” He paused, hoping she might give him a hint.

  She laughed. “How right you are. I am indeed a mystic from a far-off land, and I’ve cast a spell on this room and all who enter to shrink in size, thus giving the illusion of space,” she said, attempting to mimic Jasmine’s accent.

  “Now you’re just being a tease,” he said, returning to her side in bed. “We both know there’s no such thing as mysticism. Are you really not going to tell me your secret?”

  She smiled at him, briefly feigning a moment of secrecy before relenting. “You’re right, it is the color. I’ve found that brighter colors tend to make a room appear larger. It’s not just the color of the walls, though. It’s also the rug in the center here under the bed. It’s light in color, but it has a pattern that includes more of the colors I prefer. And have you noticed the tapestries near the window? I order them long and hang them as close to the ceiling as I can. Even the mirror on my dresser, the artwork on the wall, and the smaller nature of the furniture I do place in here all add to the feeling of a room that’s larger than it really is.”

  “Interesting,” he said, his curiosity sated for the time being. “You have some hidden talents in there, don’t you?”

  “Are you just now noticing my talents, Jonathon Harding?” she laughed seductively as she wrapped her arms around his neck, moving in closer to him.

  ~~

  Some time later, they extricated themselves from each other and lay in silence, recovering. After a few minutes, Jonathon said, “You know, about the tip, I actually leave the day after tomorrow. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, though.”

  Scarlett laughed to herself, she knew he’d come back to it eventually. Then she paused and said, “Wait, the day after tomorrow? But you’ve only been ashore a week. Don’t you usually take longer than that between voyages? Don’t tell me you’ve already spent your earnings from your last expedition,” she said accusingly.

  Jonathon thought he heard a hint of desperation in the woman’s voice. “Not even close,” he laughed, feeling a surge of appreciation at her sudden panic and peppering of questions. “I received the tip a few days after we returned, and I don’t want to lose the lead to anyone else out there who may be searching as well. I’ve already alerted me crew…”

  “‘Me crew?’” she interrupted, mimicking his slip.

  Jonathon blushed. “Yes, me crew,” he said, knowing full well where she was going with this. “I sail with a crew of cutthroat pirates, of course I’m going to pick up some habits along the way. What of it?”

  “No, no. Nothing at all, oh fearsome Pirate Captain Harding. Please continue…arrrr,” she teased, drawing out her last syllable.

  “Uh-huh…anyway,” he continued warily, “they’re not ecstatic, but I’ve told them we may hit a few villages or a merchant’s ship along the way as a bonus for them allowing me to indulge this lead.” This too was a half-truth. He had told his inner circle to ready the crew for an exploratory expedition, but he had not given the exact details, specifically the fact that they would be pursuing a “legend.”

  “‘Allowing’ you?” Scarlett asked, curious. “What do you mean? Are you not their captain? Can you not just tell them when and where they will be going?”

  “Well, in a way, yes,” Jonathon replied. “I could tell them tomorrow that we are sailing straight out away from land and toward the world’s end if I so chose, but I may not have as many heed my call. A good captain must weigh the needs and desires of his crew if he is to maintain any form of power. Become too selfish, and you risk a mutiny.”

  “I see,” Scarlett said. “That makes sense. But don’t you think you’ve done enough for them by now that you don’t have to make those sorts of compromises?”

  “That’s why I said ‘may,’” Jonathon explained. “In this case, I believe they would come if I asked, but just the statement alone shows them I’m willing to think of their needs, not just my own.”

  “How selfless of you,” she teased.

  “Not at all,” he responded. “I’ll never say no to more booty. Besides, I’ll never be able to reach The Spectre sailing a ship by me lonesome.” He paused and shot her a look as she began to say something. She smiled and let him continue. “I’ve got to be able to sway those under me if I’m ever to succeed.”

  She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck again, drawing him closer. “It can’t be that hard, can it? I’m able to sail your ship by me lonesome well enough.”