Author's Note: I humbly apologize for not updating in ages. Six months! It's so long! I feel guilty about leaving you all on the hook. But, to be honest, I've kind of lost interest this fandom. It's hard to believe, since I used to be so obsessed with it, but I've just kind of… moved on. I've sort of lost the inspiration for this story, so I'm sorry if this chapter isn't as good as the rest. However, I still really want to finish is, so I'll try my best.
Chapter 9
All the Queen's Men
"So now it comes out," she said scornfully as she followed him through his cabin door. Her lips were still swollen from his brutal kiss, but she folded her arms firmly, as if this could create a wall between them. "I knew you would attempt to lure me into your bed at some point."
His eyes were ice cold. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm merely hoping that you will do the least damage under my supervision." He removed his coat and tossed it over the chair, boots silent on the rug as he crossed over to the small alcohol cabinet. He poured himself a small glass but did not extend the offer to her.
"Surely you're not surprised," she burst out. "Did you expect me to meekly fall into place among your cronies? I'll do whatever I damn well can to get off this ship, and you should know that as well as I." He didn't pay her any heed, and she let out a huff of frustration.
Elizabeth's gaze flicked around the room. The bunk was only slightly larger than her own, but Beckett had somehow managed to make it appear twice the size, with luxurious fabrics and full pillows. The Oriental rug was small but obviously expensive, the rich cherry color of the little table complimenting the pale reds of the carpet. A slim wooden box sat atop the table and she idly ran her fingers over it.
"Do you play?"
She hadn't noticed him turning around and she blinked in surprise. "Play?"
He gestured to the box, and she pulled her fingers back. "It's a chess set."
After a moment she reached out to touch it again, sliding open the lid. Stark black and white, the elegant little figures gazed blankly up at her against a checkered field.
"I play poorly," she admitted, looking away from the pieces' disappointed stares. "I don't have the patience for it."
"That I can believe," he replied coolly. She merely responded with a frosty stare of her own as he continued, "You know, you rather remind me of a horse, Elizabeth."
"That's a compliment I haven't received before."
"Wild and reckless," he mused aloud, moving the small glass between his fingers and looking into it as if it imparted some great wisdom. "But with so much potential."
"If you mean potential to become like you, I think I'd rather remain unbroken," she sneered, irritation fueling her words. "You think you can control everything the way you control your little models on a map? People aren't pawns! They have faces and feelings, they're not like your game pieces to move about on a whim!" On an impulse she reached forward, seizing an ivory knight and rubbing her fingers over the horse's head. "Maybe you think this is me? A horse and a chess piece? I cannot be done up in so simple a package, my lord." She sat the last words with absolute scorn.
He tilted his head, then set down his glass and moved slowly towards her. "Do you fancy yourself the queen, then?" He reached for her and removed the knight from her curled fingers, putting it back in the box and replacing it with the ebony queen.
"Indeed," she said softly, smirking faintly at him, "For the queen is most powerful of all."
He regarded her for a moment, then smiled. "Not in my game."
She opened her mouth to reply but abruptly the ship shuddered, and she grabbed at the table for support as a deep rumbling echoed from above decks. "What was that?" she exclaimed, her witty retort forgotten.
"Stay here," he said, crossing the room quickly and flinging the door open. Another crash rocked the ship.
"Cannons!" she gasped, adrenaline coursing through her. She sprinted to the doorway but she caught her square in the chest with his palm.
"Don't move from this room," he ordered, staring at her with a furious intensity, "Or I swear to God I'll flog you myself."
And with that he pushed her backwards and slammed the door in her face. "Open this!" she yelled, hammering on it with her fists, fury rising within her at the sound of the key turning in the lock. "Beckett, damn you!"
Cannons could mean only one thing – pirates. And pirates meant rescue. She remembered what the sailors had told her. The ship must have been trailing the Endeavour for several nights and was now launching a night attack.
It was perfect.
She grew frantic at the thought of missing her chance for escape. She ran to the little desk and tore open the drawers, fumbling through the mass of useless papers for something to jimmy the lock. She grabbed a letter opener and raced back to the door, staggering slightly as the ship rocked under heavy fire. No matter how she wiggled and twisted it in the lock, it wouldn't budge, and she threw it across the room in frustration.
Abruptly the large pane of windows exploded inward, and Elizabeth instinctively fell to the floor, arms over her head as the cannon ball ripped through the room, spraying her with glass and debris. She cried out as something struck her head and she reeled backward, ears ringing, grasping around in the wreckage to try to haul herself upright. The gaping, empty window revealed the pitch black sea, tinged by the faintest glimmer of dawn on the horizon. She stumbled towards the gap, brushing the broken glass away from the edge before looking outside. It was hard to see clearly in the dark, but she could make out the main railing of the ship directly above her. If she could somehow climb up to it, she could be in the middle of the action…
She took a deep breath and swung her hand upward, scrabbling for a hold on the carvings. She found one easily enough and sought another for a toehold, hoisting herself up inch by inch until she was completely outside. The wind whipped at her clothes and hair and as the black waves churned below, she prayed she could hold on until she reached the upper deck. The ship jolted again as it returned fire, the triple rows of cannons blasting away into the night. She was lucky that Beckett's cabin was towards the stern of the ship, or else she'd have been blown away. She held tight to the side of the ship, nails digging painfully into the slick wood, conscious of the very real danger she was putting herself in. One slip and she would be lost to the sea.
She was sweating from both fear and exertion by the time she wrapped her arm around the upper railing. She clung to it in relief, using all her strength to heave herself over. She collapsed onto the deck amid organized chaos. Every light had been doused to minimize the ship as a target, save for one small gleaming lantern near the mast to give the sailors light to man the cannons. There was no moon and the night was velvety black, punctuated by brilliant bursts of orange and red sparks from the cannons. She could see the lights on the pirate ship – why didn't they extinguish them, she wondered, they were only making it worse on themselves! The return fire from the Endeavour was immense, and she could only imagine how it was ripping through the other ship.
She scrambled to her feet, making a dash for cover against the wall. She couldn't risk Beckett seeing her. Her gaze flicked across the deck, eyes narrowed in the dark, searching for her salvation – a longboat. The damage to the Endeavour seemed minimal so far, but, with her bad luck, the boats might be destroyed already.
A wild-eyed sailor ran past her, and with a sudden movement she reached out and snatched the large knife from his belt. He hardly noticed, tearing by her and down to the lower decks. She tucked it into her own pants. It can never hurt to be well-prepared.
She sidled along the wall, knowing Beckett would be on the quarterdeck above her. If she stayed in this area, there was little chance he could stop her. For her eyes were fixed on the longboat on the opposite end of the ship – the ropes holding it were blown away, all she would have to do was launch it into the sea and leap to freedom…
Taking a deep breath, she lunged out onto the open deck, sprinting towards the boat. She wove through the sailors, ducking beneath their outstretched arms, her eyes on the target. If she could merge among the crowded crew until the last possible moment, she could quite possibly get away with no one the wiser. An explosion blasted across her pathway and she went flying backwards, the wind knocked out of her as she smashed into the deck. She sucked in a lungful of smoky air, rolling quickly to her feet as she heard a bellow, "Stop her!"
It was not Beckett's voice, but one of his subordinates – she risked a glance back to see a lieutenant charging down the stairs towards her, trying to push through the throng of sailors. She ran the last few feet to the long boat and whipped the knife out, slashing desperately at the last few ropes holding it to the ship. It hit the water lightly, almost like a child's toy, bobbing about on the black waves.
The pirate ship was not far. If she could row at least halfway to it, they would spot her. Deliverance was nigh…
The lieutenant was mere yards from her, shoving sailors out of the way. She raised her eyes back to the quarterdeck. Beckett's eyes blazed down at her, hands gripping the railing as if it were her neck.
She turned away and leapt out into waiting sea.
Elizabeth cried out in pain as she crashed into the longboat, water sloshing over the side and soaking her. Her bones felt brittle and broken, protesting against the jarring fall, but she tested her movement and decided she was not grievously hurt. She let out a groan and reached for the oars, forcing herself to sit upright as she dug them forcefully into the waves, propelling herself out into the sea.
At last! Free from the ship and all it represented, the very air tasted sweeter somehow. She expected pistol fire, or even cannons leveled at her, but none came, and she thanked god in heaven that the pirates' attack was otherwise occupying them. As she stared up at the retreating ship, it seemed part of someone else's world, nothing she'd ever had anything to do with. Like a long-forgotten nightmare it receded in the distance as she rowed furiously, glancing behind her on occasion to check her progress. She cringed each time a cannon ball whistled by, but she felt relatively safe – after all, she was all but invisible, and she wasn't the target of anyone's fire.
Her shoulders began to ache but she soldered on, fighting against the pain from both exertion and the fall into the boat. The pirate ship was coming closer into view now – it was a small, shabby affair that nonetheless looked like nirvana. She could make out the little figures dashing to and fro on the deck and this gave her fresh hope as she rowed. She heard a shout of surprise when she was spotted, and her heart soared within her as it had not done for weeks.
Freedom.
"Don't fire!" she called out, hoping her voice carried over the waves. "I am an escaped prisoner; I am one of you!" Her little vessel quickly crossed the remaining gap and bumped against the hull of the ship. She allowed herself a smile of triumph as multiple faces peered down at her, and she grasped the steps dug into the side to climb up. She tried to dig out Sao Feng's necklace from beneath her clothing to prove herself, but a beefy hand reached down to her before she could.
She seized the proffered hand gratefully and resisted the urge to shout with relief as she was hauled aboard.