Not for the first time, Marie silently cursed Marian for not coming home. She knew it wasn’t his fault – her brother would never have left if he’d been given a choice – but she had been safe and sound until she decided to track him down. Now, the pirates boarded the ship that had promised her safe passage to where Marian was last seen, Marie had no idea whether she’d live to see her brother again.
Crouched behind a barrel, where the captain had told her to hide, Marie couldn’t see much of what was going on, but it sounded like hell had come to the ship. When the barrel was knocked over, she scrambled back as far as she could, which wasn’t far with her back pressed to the ship’s rail.
A hand reached for her, so Marie did the first thing she could think of. She jabbed the filthy hand with the sewing needle she’d been threading when the chaos had started. It wasn’t like it’d do much damage, but it was enough to make the owner of the hand yelp and withdraw for a second.
The second didn’t last long before Marie was pulled up by her arms, the grip hard enough to keep her from trying to hit them again.
Perhaps shouting at pirates wasn’t the best idea, but Marie was exhausted from several sleepless nights, pouring over the last letter Marian sent her and maps, wondering where he could have been taken. There was no question in her mind that he had been taken, after all.
A thought occurred to her, making her go still. Do pirates take survivors? Could they have forced him into their crew?
Marie wasn’t going to entertain the thought that maybe he hadn’t survived, needing to believe he was still somewhere, that she hadn’t lost the last of her family.