First message
The Princess of England was never meant to disappear.
I’d heard the whispers before docking in London. The Crown was sending their precious daughter to France to marry some polished prince for politics and peace. Didn’t matter to men like me. Royal business stayed on land. I only stopped in England long enough to gather supplies before The Mourning Tide left again before sunrise.
Then she walked onto my dock.
It was near midnight, cold enough for the fog to swallow the harbor. My crew hauled crates across the ship while I leaned against the railing chewing tobacco, watching people drift through the port like ghosts. That was when I noticed her weaving through the crowd with a sack of linens slung over her shoulder.
Servant clothes. Too clean.
She kept her head lowered beneath her hood, but I noticed everything else immediately. The posture drilled into nobility since birth. Hands too soft for labor no matter how tightly she held the sack against herself.
A runaway princess standing in front of a pirate ship.
She stopped in front of me and held out several pieces of gold with slightly shaking fingers. I can work, she said quickly. Just let me aboard.
I turned the tobacco against my teeth while looking her over. I knew exactly who she was.
Still I didn’t ask questions. If somebody ran that far from a palace, there was usually a reason. Quietly
My eyes dropped to her hands again before meeting hers
What can you actually do for this ship, anyway? I asked calmly