Off the Edge of the Map

Desiderata 16/22




Chapter 16

“I’m not at all certain about this, Captain Sparrow.” Timothy Nevins walked beside Jack through the streets of the pirate city, twisting his hands nervously in front of him.

Jack clapped a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Nothing to be worried about, mate. He’s a right unfussy little sprout – take right to you, he will.”

“It’s just that I’ve not seen him since he was a wee little thing, naught but a babe,” Timothy continued to protest. “He’s not even goin’ to recognise me!”

Jack stopped in his tracks with a sigh and turned to face his companion. “Didn’t recognise me, did he? Didn’t know me from Adam and within an hour I’d earned his pledge of eternal loyalty and devotion. ‘Course,” he added thoughtfully, “I am-“

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” Timothy finished, rolling his eyes.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Can’t for the life of me understand why I always get that reaction.” He began walking again, a finger weaving through the air as if conducting an unseen orchestra. “No need to sound so scathing, I bloody well am Captain Jack Sparrow – why shouldn’t I say so? It’s not like anyone else can say they’re me, because they’re not me. I’m me. At least I think I am.” Noticing that he was proceeding alone down the street, he paused and looked back over his shoulder to where Timothy stood perhaps a hundred yards behind, open mouthed at the pirate captain’s solitary discourse. “Come along, Tim! Haven’t got all bloody day!” With that, Jack continued along the path toward Giselle’s tavern, still muttering to himself. “No doubt there’re scores of blokes who wish they were me....”

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“Captain!”

Timothy stood in the doorway of Giselle’s tavern and watched as a small, skinny boy sprinted down the steps and across the floor toward Jack. He flung his arms wide to embrace the pirate, then, as if remembering something, stopped abruptly and held out his hand instead, the long sleeve of his shirt flopping over his fingers.

“Good lad,” Jack murmured, taking the boy’s hand in his own. He crouched down, so his eyes were level with Ben’s, and spoke in a serious tone. “Got something to tell you, son.”

“Very well,” Ben drew himself up to his full height, raised his chin and fixed Jack with a brave look, as if he was expecting to be sent into battle. Given how his life must have been recently, Timothy couldn’t blame him for that.

“At ease, now – it’s naught but good news for you, I promise,” the captain reassured his young friend. “There’s someone here to meet you.”

With that, he rose to his feet. The hand he put on Timothy’s shoulder was ringed and heavy; he looked from the boy on his right side to the man on his left before speaking. “Benjamin, this here’s your Uncle Tim.”

Ben turned wary eyes toward Tim and edged a bit closer to Jack.

“No need to be scared,” the pirate said. “He’s come to take care of you.”

The boy raised up an offended gaze. “I ain’t scared. And I don’t need no caring for. Can take care of meself, I can.”

“I’ve no doubt about that,” Jack assured him, “but sometimes it’s good to have someone else around.” Leaning down, he said softly, “Give him a chance, eh? Man’s come quite a ways, and he’s been quite the friend to old Jack.”

“Really?” Ben eyed his uncle with slightly less suspicion.

“’Tis the honest truth.” Jack sketched a cross over his heart.

“You’ve the same hair as me brother – your dad.” Tim stepped hesitantly forward, his tall frame dwarfing his nephew.

“He died,” Ben dropped his eyes to the floor. “Me mum, too.”

“I know they did.” Taking a cue from Jack, Timothy bent down so he could look directly into the boy’s face. “There was none sorrier to hear of it than I. That’s why I had Captain Sparrow bring me here. Thought you could do with some company.”

“Are you a pirate?” A spark lit deep in Ben’s eye. Timothy glanced at Jack, unsure of how he should reply.

“’Course he’s a pirate,” Jack said, looking over at Tim with something near a smile on his face. “Sailed with me, didn’t he? Helped rescue me ship, fought off a boatload of scoundrels and kept his head through a nasty storm.” He was definitely smiling now, and his next words were a rough murmur. “‘Course he’s a bloody pirate.”

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There is no more lonely a life than that of a monarch.

Elizabeth’s words came back to Jack as he sat at the bar, watching Ben and his uncle. They had taken a table across the room, the boy glancing nervously at Jack as he took his seat. But the two had got to talking, and the small redhead’s eyes had returned to the pirate less and less often, until Jack reckoned it had been near half an hour since either of them had looked his way. It was time to go. He rose, finished the last of his rum and deposited the mug on the bar with a nod to Giselle. Turning in a swirl of coat and braids, he made for the door, then paused to look back across the room. Ben caught his eye and smiled, then returned his attention to Timothy, who seemed to be in the midst of a most engaging story. Jack grinned, a mix of sadness and satisfaction.

You’re wrong, Lizzie, he thought. There’s no more lonely a life than that of an orphaned boy with none to care for him. At least there is now one less of those in the world. Then he turned and walked through the door, out into the midday sun.

The walk from the tavern to the castle was not far and Jack took his time on the road, heedless of the thunder that rumbled in the distance and the grey clouds beginning to creep close to the sun like a band of hunters, its light their prey. He traipsed through the market, picked up an apple and threw a coin to the young lad tending the stall. He smiled as he bit into the crisp fruit, thinking of Barbossa and the hundreds of apples that had gone uneaten while the man was cursed. Enough to fill the Pearl’s galley several times over, no doubt.

And speaking of the Pearl.....

Jack licked the apple juice from his fingers and turned around, pointing his feet in the direction of the harbour.

Though sunset was a while away, the sky had grown dark by the time Jack reached the docks. The Pearl strained impatiently against the weight of her anchor; he could hear her whispered pleas for freedom. He stepped close

“I feel the same way, love,” he murmured, laying calming hands against the ship’s hull. “This ain’t the life I would have chosen, for either of us. Not the life Lizzie would have for us, either, only the one she would have for herself.” He shook his head. “We all three want the same thing, yet only two of us know it, eh?”

“Only two are free to choose.”

Jack closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in a sigh, as Elizabeth’s footsteps drew close. He felt her warmth beside him, the comfort of her hand on his arm.

“I don’t want you to hide your unhappiness from me, Jack, any more than I would have you conceal your joy.” A clap of thunder, closer now, nearly drowned out her words. “Plain speech, remember?”

“Aye.” Jack opened his eyes, turning his head to look upon her face. Saw her determination as she braced herself for his reply, the barest hope in her gaze that he might give voice to thoughts different from the ones she knew to be true. He could not stand to see it, so he turned away. “My soul, Elizabeth, for an escape from this place.”

“You needn’t pay so high a price.” Her voice was a whisper and Jack knew that if he raised his eyes to hers he would see the tears that she was holding back. “You are free to go, with my blessing, and sail where you choose.”

“And yet my soul it would be, as that perfidious entity is destined to remain forever with you.”

“Then the journey would cost us both the same.”

“And that I could not bear.”

The rain began, softly at first, the tiny droplets the barest prickles on his skin, and he smiled suddenly. “This was how we began, you know.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“Like a storm, Lizzie.” His hand found hers and clasped tight, pulling her into his embrace as lightning pierced the sky. “Like a bloody hurricane.”

“And near as destructive.” Her words were muffled against his chest.

“The world needs the rain. Would be nigh unnatural to go through life without any squalls disturbing the sunshine, eh?”

The pirate king was silent, though her arms wrapped more tightly about Jack’s waist. The rain fell harder, dampening their clothes, and the cool wind came off the water and whipped around them. Elizabeth shivered against him, then stepped away and held out her hand. Her eyes met his, resolve mixed with fear, yet when she spoke, her voice showed none of her heart’s confusion.

“It is cold out here, Jack. Come inside and get warm.”

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Elizabeth gripped his hand tightly all the way back to the castle, leading him through the rain toward the shelter and warmth of the stone fortress. Within the dark silence of her chamber, she stripped off her soaked clothing, and found that Jack was quite willing to let her undress him as well. Freeing him of his shirt, she cast the dripping bundle of cloth aside and laid her palms flat against the cool skin of his chest. He wrapped damp, bare arms around her, the fingers of one hand running down her spine. When she shivered – whether from the storm’s cold or the pirate’s proximity she could not be certain – he put his mouth close to her ear and bade her retreat to the bed. She complied, but waited impatiently for him to join her, knowing that no warmth but his could chase away the chill in her bones.

Jack walked over to the fireplace and took the flint from the mantle. Elizabeth watched as the tinder caught light, the blaze in the grate a cooler echo of the fire that raced through her blood at the sight of Jack’s skin, lit by the dancing flames. He knelt on the hearth for a long moment, turning the flint over and over in his hand, head bent, braids obscuring his face. Then he looked up at her, a lifetime of emotion in his eyes. How she wished she could banish some of that uncertainty, barter a truce in his war-torn heart. But all she could do was hold out her hand, and breathe a sigh of relief when he rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand beside the bed. His fingers wound into her hair, as hers worked to remove his sodden breeches. The unwanted garment fell around his ankles and he kicked it impatiently to the side as his finger, light as air, traced over her eyelids and down the bridge of her nose.

Elizabeth raised her eyes to Jack’s, the reverence she saw there making her gasp against the fingertip that rested now against her lips.

I will always worship you, Lizzie.

She had always known the truth of it, though it had been a truth long denied. It was in his kiss as she chained him to the mast, in the way he leaned forward with his entire being to drink her in even as the shackle closed around his wrist. It was there in the Locker, buried deep beneath a curtain of mockery and disdain, and in the battle that followed, though she could not see it through the bright pain of her loss. And despite his rage and bitterness, her guilt and betrayal, the spark of his adoration had shone deep in his eyes when he at last made his way back to her, to the room where he now stood naked before her gaze.

His name, brought forth on a whisper of breath, was all it took to bring his lips down upon her own, not with the frenzied passion of a lust denied, but the slow, savouring confidence of a love acknowledged, a deep river whose tide was stemmed no longer.

Their coupling was different than before. Slower. Quieter. More beautiful, somehow. They found their rhythm not in the rocking of the waves beneath but within themselves, a new and stronger melody, its notes in time with the beating of their hearts. Jack’s eyes, which had been hidden behind dark lids as he and his king crashed together frantically aboard the Pearl, were wide open, speaking thoughts and emotions Elizabeth knew he could never find the words to say. His hands did not grip and bruise, but soothed and caressed, covering her skin with silky strokes as he moved just as smoothly within her. At the end, when he had taken her as high as she could possibly soar and left her poised above the deepest fall, he rested his forehead against hers, their eyelashes brushing against each other, and gave her a glimpse into a soul under the command of two masters and rent asunder by the pull of their opposing desires.

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“Your bed squeaks.”

“So it does.”

“Has it never before been used for its true purpose?”

“Sleeping? Rarely – I spend what nights I can aboard my ship.”

“Impudent woman.”

“Pirate.”

“That you are, love. That you are.”

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Elizabeth awoke from a deep, contented sleep to find Jack sitting in a chair near the window, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight, wearing naught but his breeches. Staring down at the city below, he was still save for his fingers, which tapped out a slow rhythm on his leg, the beat of a song which only he could hear.

It was his hands, the pirate king ruminated, that were the most expressive part of him. His eyes were flashes – deep, endless tunnels, black as Tortuga’s midnight streets, which slipped easily between truth and mockery, honesty and deception. His face could go completely blank in an instant, banishing emotion as the sun dries up the rain, and his smile was a flighty thing, a teasing glint, there and then gone.

But those hands….the rich, golden skin, roughened by time and experience, stretched out over delicate bones. What stories those fingers could tell, of gripping swords and grasping rope, circling around the neck of a rum bottle while spinning a fanciful tale, coming to rest, one by one, on the arm of a beautiful whore. They curled into fists when he was angry, fluttered through the air when he was explaining a point, pulled at his beard when he was deep in contemplation. Pressed together in front of him as he sketched a bow. A single upraised finger deposited in the air before him spoke of a flash of brilliance or a moment of insistence. His hands were so rarely still and it was when she was watching them that Elizabeth saw most deeply into his soul.

Not to mention that they could trace a line of fire across her flesh that burned with the bright flame of a thousand Caribbean suns.

She shuddered as she remembered the shackle closing about his wrist, reining in those expressive gestures. Restraining Jack Sparrow’s hands was akin to tying the Pearl to a dock; they stretched and twitched impatiently, longing to regain their lost freedom.

And what have I done now? Shackled him to the earth, to the land on which he grows impatient and restless. His choice, he said, to remain here, yet how much choice can he have? Without his heart, he is nothing, and his heart stays here with me.

With a sigh, Elizabeth rose from the bed. Pulling her dry shirt over her head, she walked on quiet feet to stand by Jack’s side. She laid a soft hand on his shoulder, a silent question.

“Have to find the crew first.”

“An easy enough task, I should think. They’ve not been long ashore, no doubt their appetites for rum and....finer things have yet to be slaked.”

Despite the sombreness of the moment, Jack smiled. “Getting to know them a bit, are you?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “They’re pirates.”

“And good men.” His face was solemn once more.

“And good men,” she echoed softly. “They deserve more for their allegiance than a life lashed to a dock. As does their captain.”

“And what of my loyalty to you?” His words were but a whisper.

Elizabeth chuckled. “It has survived battles, storms, imprisonment, a near-hanging, betrayal, a torn marriage and a thousand dark nights at sea. I have no reason to be concerned for its welfare now.”

“You would put your heart in the hands of a filthy, immoral scoundrel as he chases treasure upon the open ocean?” Jack turned in his chair to look at her, his eyes flitting up to her face and then away, toward the city once more. “Very brave of you, love.”

“I would put it in the hands of Captain Jack Sparrow,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “where it has long been safe.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Jack’s tone was resigned, with the barest thread of anticipation buried deep within it. “I shall sail with the afternoon tide and return within a fortnight.” He rose to his feet and turned to stand in front of Elizabeth, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I will return, Lizzie, be assured of it.”

The pirate king smiled. “I know it as I know the sun will rise in the morning.”

“’Tis a far more certain thing than that, love.” Jack ran a finger over her cheekbone in a glancing touch. “I’ve learned that you never know when you’ll wake with the earth turned wrong way up, savvy? But no matter which way is north, I will always come back to you.”

Elizabeth lifted her hand and teased from amid Jack’s braids the small gold disc. Its soft weight was familiar in her palm, and she shifted her eyes to the other trinkets woven into his dark locks. “Each one has a story?”

“Aye, darlin’.”

“And perhaps one day I shall hear them.”

“So you shall.” Jack’s smile was overcome by a yawn. “But not tonight, savvy? I’ve a need to rest a while.”

“Then come back to bed, Captain Sparrow, and we’ll await the sun together.”

They slid beneath the blanket and Elizabeth curled up against Jack, her head resting above his heart so she could be soothed by its steady beat. Sleep pulled at her limbs, but there was one more assurance to make before she let its curtain overtake her.

“You were right.”

“’Course I was.” Jack yawned again. “About what?”

“The bed. It’s not been used before. Not for this.”

He stilled against her, his fingers halting in the midst of the winding path they were tracing down her arm.

“Never? In three years, there’s not been anyone….?”

“No. No one.” Jack lay still for a moment more before speaking.

“Well.” She could hear the smile in his voice, picture the spark in his eyes. Resolved to imprint the sound upon her heart so she could have it to listen to when he’d gone.

“Well?”

“We’d better give it some good practice, hadn’t we?”

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Elizabeth slept, but despite his weariness, Jack could not. She clung to him tighter in sleep than she ever would have done while awake, pride cast aside in an unconscious need. For all her outward insistence, he knew how deeply she wanted him to remain at her side. Her head rested on his shoulder and one arm was flung across his chest, the fingers of her hand wrapped around his wrist.

“That’s your solution for everything, eh, love?” Jack murmured against her hair, smiling in spite of himself. “Clap him in irons?”

Elizabeth only sighed in her sleep and burrowed more closely against him.

“Can’t say I blame you for that,” Jack sighed, feeling her steady breathing begin to nudge him towards slumber. “Not been easy to keep around, have I? Well, don’t waste your worries on that anymore, darlin’. I may be sailing away, but there’s naught in this world nor the next that would stop me from returning to your kingdom.” He ran the tip of one finger slowly down her arm, revelling in the softness of her skin – and the fact that he was free to feel it beneath his hands, to touch and soothe, comfort and excite the woman who had so long owned his dreams.

As his eyes drifted shut, the pull of gravity on them suddenly too great to resist, Jack felt Elizabeth release his wrist, freeing him to fall into unconsciousness, to follow the river of his fantasy as it twisted and turned toward the future he so desperately desired.

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The light of a new day found the pirate king alone in the Great Hall, standing by the window as she watched the first rays of sun glint upon the Cove’s rooftops. She’d left Jack asleep in the warm morning air, sprawled on his back with one arm flung above his head, the blanket tangled about his waist. As much as Elizabeth had tried to keep the kingdom’s business foremost in her thoughts as she dressed, she couldn’t keep herself from pausing before she left her chamber and looking back over her shoulder at the pirate in her bed. It was strange to see anyone there, but the fact that it was him, that it was Jack, here at last, made the joy bubble up in her chest. And the fact that he was leaving caused that bubble to burst.

Perhaps that was why she’d been careful not to wake him as she crept from her room as the dawn broke upon the pirate city. As long as Jack slept, he remained inside the castle’s walls, within easy reach of her hands.

Smiling wryly, she shook her head. How you fool yourself, Elizabeth. Do you not think he hears the sea’s call even in his dreams?

“As do I.” With a sigh, she turned from the window and stepped over to the table, still scattered with charts and log books. Records of her kingdom in her absence, running as smoothly as a ship upon the glossiest ocean.

So you see, darlin’, she heard Jack’s voice in her head. They can survive without you.

“But what is life if you merely survive?” Elizabeth asked the room.

“Not nearly as enjoyable, I imagine,” came a voice from the door. “But then, I remain determined never to find out.”

“Of that, Captain Sparrow, I am well aware.” She couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see him standing there, hat upon his head, ready to take command of his ship and leave her behind. Alone, with the mantle of duty hanging heavy about her shoulders.

“And why should I, eh, when I only have to look at you to see the effects of such an existence?” His voice was closer now, his footsteps determined upon the stone floor, firm and insistent as the ticks of a clock, counting out the moments until his departure.

“It is a life which has vastly improved these past days, as fleeting as that improvement will evidently be.”

“Do make up your mind, Your Majesty.” There was an edge to his voice, the slightest cliff over which his words spilled like a cautious waterfall, as if they were aware the rocks on which they would land. “Either I have your blessing or I don’t. So which is it?”

“Of course you have it, Jack.” Now she looked at him, standing opposite her with the table between them, wide as an ocean. “I wish you to do whatever it is that will make you happiest.”

Jack smiled insincerely. "That's very reassuring."

The mocking tone was only half-hearted, and the accompanying bow a mere nod. Elizabeth looked away, out the window toward the harbour. If she stood with the glass propped open, when the room was still and the wind blew in off the water, she could hear the sounds of the docks, the ships being readied, water slapping against eager hulls. There were days when its soothing sound was the only thing which kept her sane. She heard Jack sigh, felt him appear at her side. His hand on her shoulder was light, as if he sensed her tension and did not wish to do battle with the conflicted pirate within.

“Come with me, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and bowed her head, biting her lip against a sudden flood of emotions. In all their discussions, all their conversations and arguments on the subject, he had never said the words she’d longed to hear. He talked endlessly about wanting to see her sail again, to follow her true calling, but hadn’t issued the invitation she’d been waiting three years to receive. And now, when everything had changed.....

“You’re asking?”

“Asking?” Jack’s voice was incredulous, his tone fierce. The hand on her arm pulled sharply, turning her to face him. Her eyes moved of their own accord to meet his, blinking at the spark she saw burning in their depths. “Asking? For the love of all that’s......yes, I’m bloody well asking, Lizzie! I’m begging you – come with me! Do you think there is any person on this earth I want by my side more than you?” He shook his head, trinkets jingling, as if he could not conceive of such a notion. When he spoke again, his words were a mere whisper. “’Tis true you’ve sailed with me these three years – didn’t leave my thoughts for an instant.” He loosened his grip on her arm and smiled. “Never in my life have I felt such torment.”

“Nor I.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, looking around the familiar Hall where she’d held court for so long. She brought her eyes back to rest on Jack’s face, saw the fierce hope shining there. “I’ve long been waiting for you to ask that question, Jack. And there is only one answer I can give.”

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Thomas Edwards strode swiftly down the corridor toward the Great Hall, ears alert to the murmur of voices within. He did not pause at the sound, but as soon as he crossed the room’s threshold he stopped as quickly if he’d run into a wall.

The king stood on the far side of the table, her eyes bright with laughter. Next to her, his hand on her arm and a smile upon his face, was Jack Sparrow. Neither of them noticed Thomas and he stood in the doorway for a moment, his heart sinking into his shoes, before speaking.

“Your Majesty.” At the sound of his voice, Elizabeth broke free from Sparrow’s grasp and looked up, straightening her shoulders and clasping her hands behind her back.

“Mr. Edwards. I’ve a need to speak with you.”

Startled, Thomas stepped into the room. “Of course. What do you require?”

The spark of excitement shone in the king’s eyes; she could not seem to keep the smile from her face. “I will be leaving the Cove once again in your care.” She looked over at Sparrow. “We sail with the afternoon tide.”

“And – and when will you return, Your Highness?”

“Perhaps within a fortnight.”

“Perhaps?”

“What her royalness means to say,” Sparrow broke in, stepping toward Thomas and fluttering his fingers in the air, “is that one never knows, does one? The sea, the moon, the tides, it’s all one bloody mystery and you never know where you’ll end up from one day to the next, savvy?” He winked in a manner Thomas found distinctly disturbing.

“Your Majesty, you’ve only just returned….”

“You did an exemplary job in my absence,” Elizabeth assured him. “I could ask for no better representative here.” She looked over at the pirate captain once more. “And now I’ve been given an offer I cannot refuse. Nor do I desire to do so.”

“Your Majesty....” But the king paid him no attention; her entire being was focused on the rogue at her side. Helpless against the intensity of Sparrow’s hold upon her, Thomas moved a step closer and lowered his voice to an imploring whisper. “Elizabeth.” He heard her draw in her breath sharply, but could not stop the words leaving his lips. “I beg you, do not leave us again so soon. There are tasks which require your attention, and your people have need of their king.” He could not hold her gaze, and spoke next to the stone floor beneath his feet, the words the barest breath of sound. “As do I.”

“I don’t think so, mate.” Sparrow had only taken one swift step forward before the pirate king stilled him with a warning hand raised in the air. For a moment that seemed an eternity the three of them stood, frozen in place, the only sound Sparrow’s ragged, furious breathing.

“Jack.” Elizabeth’s quiet voice broke the stillness of the air. “Let it go.”

“There’s a lesson what needs to be taught here, Lizzie, and I do believe I’m just the man to teach it.” The man’s voice was soft as a lullaby, yet there was something in it which made Thomas’s blood run cold.

Meeting his eyes, Thomas understood then why the captain was so feared; the man’s gaze was as hard and unyielding as the stone of the castle walls and he looked upon the king’s counsel as if running him through would be the greatest pleasure he’d experienced in quite some time.

“Leave him alone.” Elizabeth’s tone was quiet, but undercut with a firmness that booked no argument. She turned gentle eyes toward Sparrow, and the look in them cut through Thomas more swiftly than the sharpest blade. When the captain did not move, the king reached out her hand – the hand which Thomas had seen grip a sword and a quill with equal confidence, the fingers that caressed the wheel of her ship and thumbed the pages of the logs and which had, for one glorious moment he’d relived in his dreams every night since, held onto his arm to keep him in his chair one evening when she had suddenly remembered a matter which required his attention. Thomas knew she’d thought nothing of the contact, but it had lit in him a fire that would not be slaked.

This same delicate hand now took hold of Jack Sparrow’s arm and slid to his wrist with the familiarity of a lover’s touch. The pirate winced visibly as her fingers closed above his hand. “Lizzie.” The word was a plea. Then, as if suddenly remembering his audience, Sparrow pulled out of her grasp, his face suddenly cool as a spring rain as he looked upon the king.

“You said there hadn’t been anyone else.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “There was not. Is not. Jack!”

His smile was entirely devoid of humour. “Watch those slips of the tongue, Lizzie – they can be your doom.”

“You do not honestly believe-“ She looked from the captain to Thomas and back again.

“’Tis not what I believe that matters, love; ‘tis only what is true, and to my eye the truth of this situation is quite clear.”

Elizabeth’s tone was riddle with a desperate disbelief. “I want to come with you, Jack. Nothing has changed.”

“Oh, I think it has, love.” Sparrow’s voice was low and laden with a meaning Thomas could not grasp. Clearing his throat, he continued in a mocking, formal tone, “I see that Your Majesty has quite enough entertainment hereabouts,” he looked over at Thomas, his gaze shrewd and appraising, “so I shall be on my way.” Stepping sideways toward the door, he pressed his hands together and sketched a deep bow. Ignoring Elizabeth’s continued protests, he straightened up and turned on his heel, making for the exit. He had all but disappeared out the door when he looked back over his shoulder with a flash of dark eyes. “Mr. Edwards,” he called, “watch your step with that one. She bites. Or rather, knows something what does, savvy?” Then he was gone, and Thomas found himself alone with a shocked and angry pirate king.