Elodie had even known exactly the treasure of which her mother spoke. After all, nearly everyone knew of Captain Felix Vance’s buried treasure. 

“But not everyone knows the truth of it.” Her mother spun a letter-opener in her hand with no care for the sharp blade. “To be fair, I wasn’t a part of the crew yet when that happened. But it was the discovery that made everyone know the name of the pirate Felix Vance.” 

She looked out one of the windows at the setting sun and sighed. “He’d sailed to one of the farthest corners of the Sea of Gales, where no maps mark the way. He found ancient treasure, he said, it belonged to the people who once ruled over the whole sea long ago.”

“What did he do with it?” Elodie’s eyes were wide with wonder. 

“Buried it, didn’t take a single doubloon, and in fact he buried it in the dead of the night with no crew to help.” Her mother laughed, only to quickly sober. She looked at the letter-opener contemplatively. “He said they’d never understand. But something was wrong with it. He said that no one should have ever found that treasure, and he said it looking as if he’d seen a ghost.”

Elodie could only hope that this treasure her mother had suddenly left everything behind to chase would be worth it. She had no idea what could be wrong with such a treasure that even a pirate would choose to rebury and hide it, rather than take it. 

She turned once more in her sheets, thinking of the red sky in the morning. There were no signs of an incoming storm tonight. She could only hope that remained true—and that the red sky wasn’t a worse omen than storms and the death that came in their wake. She let the tides of sleep roll over and claim her, letting her sink into their depths. 

Of course, the night was not so kind as to let her stay under the depths of sleep. Elodie was roused from dreams of stars and whales flying through the air and sea-spray to the smell of fire and the song of cannons and screams. 

She flew out of bed and threw on her boots. Just as she’d tossed her dressing gown over her shoulders, Rosemarie burst in through the door. 

“Miss Fleetwood, we have to go, they’re attacking Brighton Row!” 

“Just a moment, I need to go into the fencing room—“ Elodie was cut off by Rosemarine snatching her wrist, digging in with her fingernails. 

“No time, Miss Fleetwood, they’ve set fire to the Kenway house at the end of the row, and we don’t know when the constables or the fire brigade will be here to put a stop to all of this!” Rosemarine’s eyes were wide with fear. “Now come on!”

With more strength than Elodie would have thought possible, the maid dragged Elodie down the grand staircase and into the streets. 

The street was unlike anything Elodie had ever seen. Perhaps the closest was when the King’s Fair came to town, but even the revelry of such an event was unlike the chaos unfolding before her on Brighton Row. 

Elodie and Rosemarine weren’t the only ones attempting to flee, servants and families from the other colorful mansions were running on the cobble stones, with animals like dogs and cats weaving their way underfoot. All the while, there were pirates attacking, wielding large cutlasses and firing pistols that sent the night sky alight like fireworks. 

In the darkness and confusion, Elodie couldn’t truly tell however who was a pirate and who was like her, a resident of the esteemed neighborhood trying to escape the rampage. The only certainty was Rosemarine’s grip on her arm, dragging her through it all.

But even that could not remain constant. 

The trouble came when the horses burst out of the Hathornes’ stable. Someone had left the door open to give them a chance to escape before the flames or the pirates claimed their house, perhaps a well-meaning stable boy or someone similar. 

The problem was, the frightened horses cut a path through the crowd, and Rosemarine was forced to change direction and suddenly as a horse came careening toward them. 

The quick change had Elodie off-balance, and in the darkness and confusion, she did not see or expect the sharply-raised cobblestone. Down she went, and her vision went red as others rushed around her. She managed to get back up on her feet, but Rosemarine was gone. 

Others jostled around her as she started to move again, stumbling alone in the dark when someone grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the crowd. 

Elodie turned to regard her savior, only to recoil as she recognized the wide-brimmed hat and the cutlass in the man’s other hand. 

He was a pirate. And he was looking at her with a glint of recognition that she didn’t like. 

Suddenly Elodie felt small, frozen to the spot. She knew she should try to wrestle free—but then again, looking at the cutlass, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. 

If only she’d defied Rosemarine and grabbed a sword of her own! 

But without a blade of her own, it was a losing game. She wouldn’t be able to win against a man, for all of his strength and years of experience. 

Another gruff-looking man joined the one who had Elodie’s arm in a vise-like grip. “What you got there, Davies?”

“I think we have what the Captain’s looking for.” The pirate—Davies, Elodie supposed— narrowed his eyes. “No doubt about it, looking at her.”

The second pirate blinked, then smiled. It was an ugly, sneering smile. The kind that made Elodie’s blood run cold. 

“Looks just like her mam, she does.”

Both men started to laugh, a raucous sound. 

“Better take her to Captain Reynard then.” Davies pulled Elodie in tighter and lightly pressed the edge of the cutlass against her throat. Not so much that it would make a cut, but enough to leave an impression. A warning shot, even. 

“No sudden moves from you, lass.” The men laughed again. “Now, you can either walk yourself, or we’ll drag you.”

“I’ll walk.” Elodie tried not to swallow. 

“A fine choice, lass.”

The pirates marched her through the city streets. All of the other chaos seemed to warp around them, like they were the eye of the hurricane and the raid on Port Augustine was the storm. 

At the marina, there were several ships hovering over the docks, ready for a swift getaway. But the kingship of it all loomed overhead, with letters painted in white that captured the moonlight so that all could read— the Foxtrot was her name. 

As they approached, the second pirate fired off a pistol, instantly capturing the attention of one of the crewmates left onboard. 

“Oi, Davies, Rackham, what’s all this about eh?” The sailor leaned over the edge to shout down. 

“We got the girl, is the Captain still onboard?” Davies hollered back. “Thought he might want a chat!”

“What—oh, I’ll bring you up in just a jiffy!” The sailor hurried over to the side of the boat and dropped down a wicker basket large enough for a good group of men, maybe five or more to fit into. 

Davies removed the cutlass from Elodie’s throat. “Ladies first, then.”

What a joke. 

Elodie swallowed back any retorts on the tip of her tongue and stepped into the basket with Davies and Rackham. Davies still kept the tip of the cutlass pointed at the small of her back, a reminder of what would happen if she didn’t keep quiet, keep obedient like a bird in a cage. 

As the sailor worked the ropes to pull them up, she could not help but observe the Foxtrot in all its grim glory. Of course she’d seen larger of the great wooden ships that could traverse both the air and the water of the Sea of Gales. Mainly from the Albionese military. But this was still greater than most of even the most expensive of the merchant ships that came to Port Augustine. With three masts with billowing sails that caught the wind and held it there, they extended like a pair of wings nearly as wide as the ship was long. 

Elodie wondered if her father’s ship was anything like the Foxtrot.

Once she was brought aboard the deck, Davies marched her up to a man standing in the center of all the action with a spyglass and a sword on his hip. 

“Davies, Rackham, what are you two louts doing here?” The man sneered. “There’s work to be done, and—“

He stopped, having finally seen Elodie. His pale gray eyes gleamed in the moonlight and his lips curled back into a horrible smile. “I take that back. Well done, the two of you. Seems even idiots like you can get the job done when the cards are down.” 

“Found her wandering on the street on Brighton Row, sir.” Davies visibly preened. “She was easy pickings, Captain.”

“Right.” The man—Captain Reynard, she recalled the name was, tilted his head. “Still, might as well check—your name, lass?”

“E-Elodie Fleetwood,” she stammered. There was no point in lying, not now. Besides, they clearly knew who she was, who her mother was.

“Oh good, you two didn’t fuck up. Excellent.” Captain Reynard straightened his coat. “His Highness will be happy to hear that we were successful tonight.”

“His Highness—you don’t mean the King of Albion, do you?” Elodie couldn’t stop herself from asking. 

All three of the men burst into laughter. 

“King of Albion—as if!” Captain Reynard wiped a tear away from his grimy cheek. “No, I speak of real royalty, lass, the Pirate King himself!” 

He stepped closer, and if it weren't for the cutlass still pointed at the small of Elodie’s back, she might have stepped back. If just to put some distance between him. As it was she could feel the hot breath of the pirate captain, reeking of alcohol. 

The joviality had completely disappeared from his pale gray eyes. “Nearly everyone’s been looking for Vance’s treasure since he returned to Libertalia with the tale. When he was hanged, everyone thought that it was lost for good, no one realized that he’d told his woman the secret over anyone else.”

His eyes flicked up and down Elodie’s shivering form, his smile gone completely. “Surely she’ll come once she gets word that the Black-Sail Fleet has you.”

Elodie had heard of that term before, in the papers. The mysterious Black-Sail Fleet, a large coalition of pirates that all flew under the black Jolly Roger flag and reported allegedly to a king of their own. 

A king that apparently was looking for her, her mother, and her father’s long-buried treasure. 

The full depths of what trouble she was in had finally washed over her like the tide. But it was too late.

“Take her to the brig, chain her up, make sure she can’t leave,” Captain Reynard ordered as he stepped back and adjusted his dingy mauve coat. “I’ll call everyone in. His Highness won’t like it if we dally around now that we have what we came for.”

“Right then.” Rackham grabbed Elodie’s arm and pulled her away. 

She could only steal one last look over her shoulder at the moon over Port Augustine, the city’s skyline illuminated by fire and obscured with smoke. What would become of her home, Elodie did not know.

Her view was cut off when Davies slammed the door to the underside of the ship as Rackham pulled Elodie down the stairs. It was then that she realized that what would become of her, she was even less certain of.