Chapter 367:

Marina

This is the famous Devil of the Seas?

The way they speak of him,I expected... more.

He’s tall, yes. Slender. Dressed in black from head to toe.

He smiles, and it reminds me of a cat toying with its prey.

My heart skips a beat.

I suppose he is handsome.

He claps his hands. "What are you all standing around for? They are my guests!"

Men in black coats rush forward. A table appears. Chairs. A white tablecloth that seems impossible on a ship. Plates that look like porcelain. Glasses that catch the lantern light.

At the head of the table is a chair higher than the rest—practically a throne. He plops into it, boots up on the armrest, looking for all the world like a king entertaining peasants.

"Help yourselves," he says.

Servants bring out food. Roasted bird of some kind. Fresh bread still steaming. Soups and stews and dishes I’ve never seen before. Fruits that don’t grow in this climate. The smell makes my stomach growl.

I take a seat. I’m starving.

I grab a leg off the roasted bird and tear into it with my teeth. The meat is tender. Juicy. Perfect.

After a few bites, I notice I’m the only one using my hands.

The prince cuts his meat with a knife and fork, precise and careful. His old attendant does the same. Even Nancy eats like a noble, her back straight, her movements small and elegant.

I don’t like her.

A noble lady, raised in comforts. Head buried in books. She probably never went a day hungry in her life. But unfortunately, she’s an excellent navigator. I’ve never met anyone with as much mastery over the stars as her.

The Devil is watching me. He’s not eating from the table—instead, he’s snacking on something from a small bowl. Orange. Fried. Some kind of vegetable.

"Don’t be ashamed, little pirate," he says.

Everyone looks at me. My face burns.

"Such is the difference in status."

He pops another piece of whatever he’s eating into his mouth. The purple parrot on his shoulder tilts its head. Watching me too.

"Will you not join us?" the prince asks.

The Devil waves a hand. "I do not share my table with anyone." He leans back in his throne, boots still on the armrest.

"But enjoy."

I look down at my greasy hands. At the prince’s clean knife and fork. At Nancy’s perfect posture.

I set the bird leg down.

I’m not hungry anymore.

***

Daphne

I didn’t mean to embarrass her like that.

Oh, maybe I did.

Who knows.

I study them while chewing on my fried sweet potatoes. It took trial and error to get the chef to make them the way I like—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, salted just right.

Worth every threat I made.

The prince is a stereotype. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Handsome in that boring, predictable way. You could put him in any kingdom, any century, and he’d look exactly the same.

Boo.

Marina is... a lot. Busty. Curly red hair spilling everywhere. Dressed like a pirate’s daughter—loose shirt, tight trousers, the kind of outfit a man would imagine for a female pirate. She’s practically bursting out of her clothes.

Now I’m just being mean.

I look at the other member of the little harem.

Nancy. According to the System, I’ve come to the conclusion she’s way too good for him.

She only ended up with the prince in the original plot because he was the only one who acknowledged her abilities. The cliché story—she’s a woman, she should have babies, her family wants to arrange a marriage, and here comes the handsome prince saying, "Let’s go on a journey. I need your abilities."

Of course she fell in love.

I mean, it’s not like there are any good choices for men in this era.

I wonder if she’ll still fall in love with him if I indoctrinate her with modern feminist thoughts.

I study her. Hair in a tight ponytail. Sitting quietly. A woman held back by her time.

The servants clear the table. The prince dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin. Marina picks at her teeth with her fingernail.

"So." I lean back in my throne. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from a prince?"

The old man next to the prince starts choking on air.

"How did you—"

I pet the parrot on my shoulder.

"A little birdie told me. The prince is on a grand voyage to kill the monster of the seas. Accompanied by the Pirate King’s daughter and a talented navigator." I look at Nancy when I say the last part.

She stiffens. Her face goes pink.

Blushing.

Hell no.

I’ve learned my fucking lesson from Elliot. I wasn’t even flirting.

"A bird?" Marina’s voice is flat.

"Yes, a bird." I’m not lying. This bird told me.

The parrot glares at me. Well, not that birds can have facial expressions.

The prince leans forward. His hands are folded on the table. He’s trying to look composed, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.

"Can you help us?" he asks.

I pop another sweet potato into my mouth. Chew. Swallow.

"Well," I say, "I know I’m called the Devil. But I am but a mere mortal. I cannot grant you supernatural abilities."

I shift in the chair. The wood creaks beneath me.

"I was proposing a deal."

The prince leans forward. His blue eyes are sharp, calculating. He’s trying to read me.

"I’m listening."

I set the bowl of sweet potatoes on the arm of my throne. Wipe my hands on a cloth napkin. Take my time.

"I know it’s not just the kingdom affected by the monster," I say slowly. "Pirates are as well. Trade routes disrupted. Ships sunk. Merchants too afraid to sail." I pause.

"Bad for business."

I pretend to deliberate. Tap my finger against my chin. Frown at the table.

"Not this pirate, though." I wave a hand. "I have enough gold. I could live in luxury for the next twenty years. Retire to some island. Never step foot on a ship again."