The darkness below decks grew more and more oppressive as the evening wore on into night, and Eloise’s hunger rose with it. Once her panic had subsided a little, she had managed to drift into a fitful sleep, her back against the barrel that had brought her aboard. When she could bear her hunger and worry no longer, she rose and crept back up the stairs, moving as quietly as she could through the ship. She passed what she assumed must be the crew’s quarters, the noise of the rope hammocks squeaking against the wooden beams distinct in the midnight quiet, and found her way to the galley.

The kitchen was small for the size of the ship. After a moment’s search through drawers and cabinets, it quickly became apparent that it was also woefully understocked. But her stomach urged her on, and a more thorough search turned up a quarter loaf of stale bread. Triumphant, she ripped off a piece and stuffed it into her mouth, closing her eyes to savor the first taste of food she’d had in many hours, tough and nearly rancid though it may have been.

A set of hands descended on her shoulders, squeezing, and she screamed—or would have, had her cheeks not been fully padded with half-chewed food. Those hands spun her about, and in the half-light, she found herself facing a frowning man, staring her down. “Stealing, are you?”

Terrified, she shook her head, frantically trying to swallow. She must have looked like a guilty chipmunk to him, denying her theft while her mouth was full to bursting with bread.

The man’s frown only deepened. “What right d’you have? What right, I said? I ought to tell the captain!”

Mouth finally clear, Eloise sputtered, “Please don’t say anything!”

The man crossed his arms, arching a brow. “And why shouldn’t I?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped, taking a closer look at this man. He was tall, but likely the same age as, or even younger than she. He didn’t even have stubble. “You’re... you’re just a cabin boy,” she said, and let out a little laugh of relief.

“Oi!” he said, face going red with embarrassment. “It isn’t funny!”

Eloise shook her head, still smiling. “You seem to have come to your own conclusions about why I’m here,” she said, “but what are you doing here? It must be past midnight.”

His shoulders sagged. “Tryin’ to find some food. They never give me enough, you know?”

Eloise took care not to point out that this definitely also qualified as stealing. He stepped back, appraising her. “I’m Finn. What’s your name?”

“El—” she said, and then paused, thinking wildly.

Why hadn’t she prepared for this moment? How had something this obvious slipped her mind? But she hadn’t come this far just to screw up now.

“Eli,” she finished.

He nodded, seemingly unconscious of her hesitation, and gestured towards the far side of the galley. “Here’s where they keep the real stuff,” he said, and he slid open a drawer she had overlooked.

There was a tantalizing selection of salted meats, to be sure, but there was also a sleek brown cat wrapped right around a bit of ham, gnawing at the top. “Blast it, Beauregard! Get out of here!” Finn reached in and grabbed the guilty beast, setting him down with surprising gentleness and attempting to shoo him away.

“Hello there,” said Eloise, holding out a hand.

“Be careful,” Finn warned. “He’s a biter.”

Eloise glanced at the poor, half-eaten ham. “I noticed,” she said dryly.

Finn rolled his eyes and wiped the ham on his shirt before taking a bite and offering it to her.

She hesitated. “This is ham, right? From pigs?”

He chuckled. “What else would it be?”

“It’s just that, you know,” said Eloise, looking at the meat in the drawer with suspicion, remembering the conversation she had overheard in the tavern. “I’ve heard things.”

“Ah,” said Finn, winking knowingly. “The captain loves that rumor. You didn’t hear this from me, but I think he started it himself.”

That seemed like a bizarre thing to do, and Eloise doubted the veracity of the notion—but she couldn’t deny that she was very, very hungry. Finn certainly didn’t seem the type to lie.

Accepting the ham, she took a bite, and its smoky saltiness coated her tongue. Definitely ham, she decided.

As they gorged themselves on the meat, the cat wound around their ankles and flopped on top of Eloise’s feet. “Seeing as we’re friends now, and you’re a stowaway, I’ll bring you some food when I can,” Finn told her. “But you’d better stay out of sight. If Captain Hawk sees you, he’ll toss you overboard.”

She nodded. That, at least, fit with what she’d heard about the man. It probably should have occurred to her before that such an ignoble death was a possibility. She shrugged the idea off.

Finn motioned for her to follow him, and they walked a little way up some stairs to a segment of the ship that was lined with cannons. “The sea’s been pretty quiet lately,” he said. “No one comes here unless there’s trouble. You should be safe if you stay here while the sailors are up.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And if there’s trouble?”

He grinned at her. “If there’s trouble, you’re the last person anyone’s worrying about.”

Tossing her a blanket, he waved. “I’ve got to get back to work. See you later!”

She nestled herself into a corner, and laid down, using her cap as a pillow. The moon shone in from a porthole high above her, glinting on the cannons. Father, she thought. What am I doing?

Eloise let herself sink into the motion of the rocking ship, her never-quite-subsided anxieties rising to the surface of her mind. She wasn’t sure what the Bloody Hawk was capable of, but she was likely in greater danger now than ever before. She would have to hide herself until they docked at the next port, then sneak off and... what? Find another job she couldn’t do?

What were her mother and sisters up to right now? She hoped they were sleeping soundly, far beyond worry and care. But Phoebe was always the type to fret late into the night, and Rosabella had always looked after Phoebe, and their mother was apt to sense that something was wrong and knock on their door before too much time had passed. She could picture them huddled together, whispering prayers for her, wondering where she’d gotten to, when she would come home. If she would come home.

Eloise shook off her fears. She had promised to help them, and she would.

Eyes beginning to flutter closed, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and dropped into sleep.

***

The air as she stood on the docks was sweet with salt and her own yearning as she looked up at The Lady Mary, and the gentleman who commanded her. His eyes skimmed over her surroundings, and she again felt the fear and want of discovery as his gaze approached her.

This time, when she looked at him, he looked back.

She was dressed in a dark blue gown embroidered with thousands of crystals that patterned the night sky across her skirts, the north star bright at her sternum. A wave cascaded across the docks, soaking her thin frame, and he stretched out a hand towards her, always her savior. She was on the ship’s deck with him then, wet and shivering, the sodden dress weighing down her every step. He stepped forward and brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear, their faces a hairs’ breadth apart, and then—

Aching gentleness, as his lips moved against hers, slowly, whisper-soft—

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, and the sky seemed to shiver above them as Captain Hawk loomed over her with a smile like a knife’s edge.

She was back in Eli’s clothes again, still wet, but no longer cold with it, as Hawk kissed his way down her neck, teeth grazing her skin, one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist. “Naughty boy,” Hawk whispered, before worrying the shell of her ear between his teeth.

She registered the strange discordance of his words even as she found herself affected by them. Each of them had been, or currently was, wearing a disguise, playing pretend. Deception stretched out like a river between them. How deep did the layers go? Pleasure unspooled through her limbs, and she sighed into it, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His mouth crashed against hers like a ocean’s swell, tide rising as his tongue probed the seams of her mouth and the slick shine of her teeth. She tested the feeling of her tongue against his; decided that she liked it, biting his lip. The hand on her waist brushed against the expanse of skin under her shirt, moving upwards—

“What have we here?”

She blinked into wakefulness, bleary-eyed, suddenly cold again. The cat at her feet stirred, stretched, and sauntered off as she jolted upright, realizing the voice had come from right in front of her.

She was awake and staring right into the furious, chiseled face of Captain Hawk.