the Fleur

RAVEN

My skiff hits the makeshift beach above the Trident. It's not a beach at all, but a heaping pile of discarded ship parts –wooden planks and tattered sails and old pieces of swords –all stacked together until it became something masquerading as land. A pirate's beach.

Legend has it the last surviving pirate lords came to the Trident after the treaty that ended the Battle of the Bones. Above the final resting place of the three largest ships that were lost to the sea, the lords bound their pirogues with rope and sail and sword, signifying lasting unity. It grew from there becoming what it now is: a manmade island of debris gifted from the generations that came before.

An hour to dawn, the Trident is empty, apart from one other dark shadow of a vessel. My heart swells with anticipation, and my body is right behind. I take a last moment to prepare myself, to tidy up my wavy hair and plump up my chest the best I can. I pace swiftly across the beach, my boot catching on a rope looped through the remnants of a sail. On the north side of the Trident, I find him, standing in a hollowed-out hull. Seaweed and barnacles grow up the sides of the forgotten ship, but the candlelight casts romantic shadows against the wet shiplap and crushed opal shells glisten in the shallow water.

I admire the way he looks tonight –decked in house colors with his shoulder-length hair down and a sword gleaming on his waist. My eyes spot the flaming moon on its hilt.

"Cage?" I announce myself, inviting him to turn around.

"I've been waiting," he sings in a slow, drawling voice.

"I had to sail the long way, around the rocks. The patrol was out again, searching. Rumors of soldiers in the territory."

I reach him and his hands instantly wash away any doubts. My back arches at feeling his hips against mine. Cage's skin smells of sweat and brine and I long to taste him. His lips part mine and my breath is lost in his. We kiss so deeply, so passionately; I yearn for more. I press my front against his, my boot crunching down on a mussel shell.

"I missed this," he says, breaking us apart and laughing at my fervor.

"I missed you," I tell him. "Was it hard to get away?"

"Not tonight. They held council on Moonstone, but Seadog insisted it was his turn to sit in." Cage smirks. "A battle I happily conceded."

I smooth my hair down my sides and breathe heavily, our kiss still lingering. I look at the candle in the lantern to keep from ogling Cage.

"Council?" I ask, my voice faltering. "What about?"

"Don't fret, Rave," Cage tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. My heart flutters hearing his nickname for me. "Talk was of the Northern colonies, of navy ships, and the new fort. Nothing about the tribes."

"For now," I pout.

"Raven, look at me," Cage says, taking my face in his hands. "We have now. And if the time comes–"

"–It will!" I interrupt.

"If it does, we shall implore they see reason," Cage finishes. "After all, you and I have come to stand each other after years of failed attempts to instill hatred. I have faith in us."

"Cage, our families loathe the very existence of each other. Lest you forget."

"How could I?" He asks, his dark eyes smoldering. "With you reminding me every chance you see? But look at us. Are we not a testament to what can be? To what will be if given the chance?"

I huff and cross my arms, but a smile spreads across my lips as he squeezes my waist. "Your idyllic mind will be the death of me, Cage Moonfire," I sigh, my lips skimming his.

I wasn't always the girl sneaking off into the night, rendezvousing at the Trident, and losing myself to wistful fancies. Yet here I am, caught up in a whirlwind love affair with Cage Moonfire, curse of the Crown Jewels be damned.

Cage is many things. One, he is 20, which is three years older than I am. He is tall and handsome and almost the sole object of all breathing women's affections –apart from maybe Captain Atlas. Two, he is a formidable swordsman and one of the most skilled sailors in the Caribbean. He once defeated an entire ring of merchants with nothing but a knife, and he finds victory in the sailing race at Buccaneer Bay every year. Three, Cage is the eldest son of Jax Moonfire and heir to the entire Moonfire tribe... which makes him my family's archenemy.

The way back is cold and quiet and my fingers fumble on the sheets rope. The smell of Cage lingers on my skin, a secret I am happy to behold for myself, for us.

As I round the rock cliffs scattered where the Gold Sea meets uncharted waters, I spot it, its looming silhouette backlit by the moon, its central mast the tallest in all the Spanish Main –Nightingale. The sight of the British Royal Navy's flagship should, at the very least, bring pause to my determination to continue my clandestine tryst. It does not.

I arrive, undiscovered, into the shallow channel, hugging the coastline and hiding from the misty moon. From the water I see her, perched high in the arch above Watcher's Way. Anie's champagne hair moves in the wind, flowing with grace as if strands of sunlight were suspended in water. You would think I would be used to it by now, but it –she –still fills me with an eerie calm.

A small jolt as my hull runs into the beach and I lurch forward. My boots sink into the sand and I begin my ascent, ready to answer for my absence.