Evie Stanton

“Be a good girl, Evie," my father said to me before announcing my engagement.

My handmaiden, Mary, noticed how my face became ghostly white. She instantly stepped forward, “Oh, the girl must be so exhausted! So much excitement!"

To which, I played it up, pretending to be faint under my corset. “It's gotten so hot in here, hasn't it? I'm sorry, please excuse me."

As soon as Mary had helped me out of my father's study, one arm supporting me around the prying eyes of my mother and fiance, she leaned over and whispered, “Do you think they bought it?"

With a heaving sigh, I replied, “I hope so. Thank you, Mary. You're a saint."

Her eyes crinkled with a smile. “Anything for you, Princess Evelyn."

“Oh, hush. You know to call me Evie."

The old woman giggled under her breath, opening my bedroom door for me. “Do not worry, Evie, I will deter anyone from this room," Mary promised, squeezing my arm comfortingly and ducking away to give me some much-needed privacy.

Thank God.

Here I was, nearly twenty-five, engaged to a man I had just met today. I smoothed out the wrinkles on my gown, sighing at the sight of the plain beige fabric.

My life felt like the color beige.

I felt like I was nearing death by how droll my life had become. Nothing like the stories I had read. Ones of adventure. Sword Fights. Debauchery. Freedom from father's expectations.

The only hint of freedom I ever got was when the sun would set, casting golden sunlight across the harbor. Ships would dock and leave all day, making me wonder what it was like out there.

Life on the high seas. In the distance, I saw men going back and forth to taverns. My father never let me touch alcohol, but there was nothing else I wanted more than a stiff drink. What I would do to cause a little trouble.

Wouldn't be so perfect then, would I? In fact, maybe with enough trouble, Robert wouldn't want me. I wouldn't have to marry him. A cold shiver ran up my spine at the thought of his uncalloused hands on me. Life as an unsatisfied incubator while my husband fucks up the kingdom. In more ways than one.

No.

Fuck that.

I gathered the ruffled skirt in my hands and shed some of the outer layers to make it appear smaller, topping it with an elegant but not too flashy outer robe. So I wouldn't look like a princess. I snatched a hooded cape from my wardrobe, paying no mind to my jewelry. I pinned a broach on my cape of my coat of arms to prove my status, just in case I came into more trouble than I could handle.

I was going to that tavern by the port, and I would have some fun.

Thankfully, Mary kept her word. Not a soul in sight outside of my room. I could have kissed her, that wonderful soul. I've lived at the castle long enough to know the secret nooks and crannies. The tunnels.

I've just never been bold enough to use them. Until now.

I ducked behind the servant's quarters to the narrow hallway that opened up into the escape tunnels, if the castle was ever under siege. I doubted even the guards knew where they were. This castle was old, older than my family.

But everything before the Stanton reign was sealed behind tight lips. No matter how many questions I asked, no one gave me anything of substance. Just that the previous royal family was corrupt—devil incarnates—that insurrection was necessary. That was all they told me about the once proud Drogos family.

The hallway was dark and never lit, but an oil lantern hung nearby. Lighting it, I carried it with me. Until finally, I came to an iron gate, locked, but with a gap just big enough for me. Wiggling past the gap, my dress barely fitting past the warped iron, I smiled.

I was free.

Taking a moment, I glanced back at the stone walls that held me prisoner. Familiar. Comforting.

Boring.

For a fleeting moment, I questioned myself. But for once, I didn't want to think about the consequences. I didn't want to think about what my parents wanted.

If they had their way, I would be Prince Robert's accessory. Just a pretty face with no spirit of my own. My lip curled into a snarl, and I turned, lifting my lantern and getting out from those wretched stone walls.

The moon met me on the other side. Full. Bathing the sides of the castle in white light. That heavy sensation in my chest lifted, that spiteful anger morphing into something lighter. Buzzing excitement accelerated my pulse. This time I would experience the capital of Avalon from the people that live here.

A helpless smile stretched across my lips as I blew out the lantern, tucking it behind the pathway entrance to light my return. I had seen enough from my balcony to know the way to the tavern.

Tonight, I would drink rum, sit alongside patrons, and listen to the world outside from the people experiencing it.

My heart jumped as I wondered about the possibility of flirting with a stranger. The exhilaration of someone who didn't know who I was talking to me, not because I was a princess, but because they found me interesting.

My skin broke out with chills as I couldn't help but wonder what a real man's hands felt like. Rough and calloused like they knew how to use them.

Warmth flooded my abdomen, tingling the intimate, vastly unexplored apex of my thighs as the thought of a rough tumble filled my mind. I didn't leave the castle with the plan of sex, but would it be such a bad thing?

The Drunk Sturgeon Tavern.

I didn't even know the portside bar had a name. Come to think of it, Avalon's main export was fish, so the name fit. Loud ruckus filled the bar. Shouting and hooting. Crashing. I wanted to see what was happening inside as the tavern filled with the noise of drunken singing. The doors slammed open as two men sauntered out, clearly intoxicated and laughing with one another. I jumped back several feet, nearly out of my own skin.

My heart pattered like the beats of a hummingbird's wings as I drew my lower lip between my teeth and mustered up all my courage to burst through the swinging double doors.

Eyes flashed over to me instantly. While I wasn't the only woman in the bar, I quickly noticed I was overdressed.

The golden bangles around my wrists seemed ten times heavier than they felt just moments ago.

“You're just here for a drink," I murmured to myself, noting how the other patrons ordered their drinks.

A woman behind the bar filled glasses with clear, amber liquid and slid them down the bar into eager, awaiting hands.

What an exciting life she must lead. Taking another look around, I watched how the women acted. They seemed strong. Not afraid to speak their mind. In fact, they looked like if anyone tried to silence them, they would throw fists to prove their point.

I wanted to be like them.

With a sharp breath through my nostrils, I maneuvered through thumping bodies, around the loud melody of lutes and off-key men singing along. I would play the part of a strong woman, even if I didn't feel that way. I took an open seat in front of the barmaid.

Not quite old, but not young either. Her skin shone with sweat; blonde hair pulled back as she worked. Her blouse plunged down, bust unconfined from a corset. She was quite pretty, and I found her even more so as she shouted at a drunkard breaking a tankard on the filthy floor.

A working woman. How I envied her and her authority.

She didn't address me right away. She eyed me up first, the jewelry on my wrists. The silk of my hooded cape. Maybe I should have rolled around in some mud first. “What can I get you, lovely?" she asked, an accent so thick she had to repeat herself before I knew what she had said.

“Rum. I'd like some rum," I stated confidently.

The side of her lips quirked up in the corner, eyebrows raised. “Aight, doll."

She threw a rocks glass up in the air, gripping the rum and catching the glass in a bar trick. It mesmerized me as she flipped it up again, pouring it full of that amber liquid I had been aching to taste since I had read about it.

With an expert slide into my awaiting hands, she said, “Two shillings."

I turned to my purse and gathered several gold pieces. Without much thought, I paid her extravagantly.

The barmaid withdrew, “Oh, this is too much."

I grinned wide. “You deserve it!"

She tilted her head to the side and beamed at me. “Anything you want tonight is on me, darling."

Perhaps she noticed my naivety when I nodded excitedly, eyeing the curious glass in front of me. Then, like I had done it before, I brought the liquor up to my lips and took a swig.

Instantly, a fire ignited in my chest, and I had to choke down a few strangled coughs.

I knew it was supposed to feel warm, but not like I just set my throat on fire!

The barmaid looked up, a glimmer of something uneasy in her eyes as she glanced at the newest patron. The tavern fell quiet.

Who just walked in?

Curiosity got the better of me as I looked, turning fully on my stool. I first noticed the man's wide-brimmed hat, casting a shadow across his eyes. Even under the shadow, they seemed to glow like the gleam of moonlight off the ocean banks.

The happy drunk men around me seemed to sober up, a few even getting up to rush out the door. The entire tavern felt it when he walked in. A worn, long leather coat didn't hide the power residing in his shoulders. Thick corded muscle I could only see a whisper of as my eyes glided down to his muscular thighs, clad in leather.

A cutlass on one hip. The holster of a pistol on the other. The sword's hilt was worn like his big, calloused hands knew how to handle it. It wasn't until my eyes drifted back up, past the opened blouse, the sprinkling of chest hair barely concealing the ink of a tattoo, to the firmness of his jaw, that I realized my mouth was salivating.

I couldn't tear my eyes from him. My lips parted, wishing I could drink him in instead of the liquor. I bet he was just as intoxicating. Beneath my robe, my skin tightened, yearning for a touch.

My gaze was drawn to the stubble on his jaw, the plump pinkness of his lips. Never once has the sight of a man tightened my insides as he did. I sat up taller, elongating my back to appear more elegant. That's what every man liked, or so I had been told.

His eyes weren't on me, though. As much as I wanted him to notice me, his attention was rather on the barmaid behind me. He tilted his head up, and the barmaid walked from behind the bar to a corner booth with him.

“Who's that?" I couldn't help but ask one of the scared sober men next to me.

The man's throat bobbed, gulping a few times before he answered. “I think that's Captain Thane from the Sea Serpent. Rumor has it that they have a pet dragon."

Another one chimed in. “I heard he never does business himself because his eyes can turn someone to stone!"

And suddenly, while staring at the intimidating man across the door, I was plunged into rumors, legends, larger-than-life stories about Captain Thane and the Sea Serpent.

About how, even though his ship was in flames and sinking, every single member of his crew went unscathed, arriving on the shore.

How a blue sea serpent follows the ship, protecting his vast treasure. If you've seen it, then it's already too late.

How he's never lost a fight.

And while I was eating all of it up, the rum didn't taste so bad anymore.

When I finished my second glass, I giggled, elated and dizzy. The room spun around me, causing my stomach to lurch up into my throat. That was when I realized being alone, at a tavern, without an escort, was dangerous.

As I stood up, I stumbled, and a slender arm snapped out to grab me. I flinched, trying to duck away from the unwelcome hands. I was met with a gaunt face, eyes that narrowed deviously. “One too many, baby? Let's get you home."

A sharp spear of panic surged up my body as I kicked back, dizzy and nauseous, but I couldn't break out of his grip. I wanted to scratch my way out of my skin, hating how his hands felt.

Stop touching me.

My mouth opened and closed, words coiling around my tongue. The argument that blazed inside of me was trapped beneath the surface. Instead of cursing and shouting like I should have done, I said, “Please, sir, that won't be necessary."

“I think it is," he said as he ushered me out the door before anyone could notice. Two men followed behind him.

My heart jumped into my throat. “No, no. Just let me go. I have gold."

They weren't listening as I slipped on the muck in the alleyway, barely catching myself against my palms. My shoulders trembled uncontrollably, beads of sweat forming as fear clenched my throat like a fist.

“We'll take the gold when we're finished with you, pretty," the gaunt man stated.

My hands fisted around my cape, eyes searching wildly for something. Anything. Cruel laughter filled the alleyway. Those too-thin hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to my feet while my skin crawled.

Stop touching me.

“Come on, don't fight. Be a good girl."

My gaze snapped up, my heart racing. A snarl curled around my lips as I shouted, “Fuck you!"

I launched my head forward, headbutting him hard enough to make my eyes roll back for a second. My arms were flailing, hitting everything I could, but it wasn't enough. Another man's hands grabbed mine, chuckling about how it's more fun if they fight.

“Stop touching me!" I spat at them, struggling and shoving to no avail.

“Is that any way to treat a lady?" a commanding voice stated from the mouth of the alleyway.

His voice sounded as intoxicating as he looked.

God, I could drink him right up.

Captain Thane.