The Pirate Queen

Chapter 7

Eric slammed the door to the kitchen closed and glared at his friend. So called friend. He didn't really know who Jora was anymore. 

"You have so much explaining to do."

To his credit, Jora had enough sense to look at least partially ashamed. "I know," he mumbled. He moved over to the six burner stove and fiddled with the knobs. The moonlight filtering in through the high windows provided the only light to see by until Jora had some lamps lit dangling from the ceiling. 

"Why did you call the captain of the Dauntless a little lobster?" 

Jora looked up at him and barked out a laugh. "You just found out a former pirate was your butler for two years and that's the first question you ask me?" 

Eric threw up his hands and slumped against the counter. "You called the most ruthless person on the high seas a lobster and wasn't skewered for it! She hugged you!" 

Jora turned back to the stove, reaching above to a small cabinet to pull out a metal box. He flipped open the lid and began to sort through the countless recipe cards while he talked, avoiding Eric's eye. "Yes, I was sold to the former Captain when I was ten years old to serve as his cabin boy." 

Not what he'd been expecting to hear. "Sold?" Eric breathed. He looked again at his friend, eyes trailing down to his left ankle. In all their adventures together, Eric had never seen his friend show much of his bare skin. His torso, sure, but always pants no matter the hot weather. He'd never bothered to question his friend for the scars and tattoos dotting his skin that the young man only displayed on his boat when it was just the two of them, but he'd never thought their source was because Jora was a pirate. 

In response, Jora sat down on a stool, shucked off his boot, and rolled up his pant leg to display the twin black bands inked onto his left ankle. The brand of a slave. A physical reminder of the shackles they were either born or sold into. "I was given this when I was six years old. My mother passed away, my bastard father having abandoned us when he found out she was pregnant, and my mother's landowner didn't know what to do with me. It was unfortunate luck a slave trader came to town and offered good coin to anyone with... Skill." 

Eric swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. Slaves and any trade to do with them had been outlawed in Darmken before Eric was born. His grandfather had been the one to outlaw it through no revolt or begging or anything other than spite. His own father had been such a control freak, had such a chokehold on his son, that as soon as the man died his grandfather did the first thing he could: outlawed slavery. People were compensated, jobs were distributed, and any violence was squashed before it even began. It was one of the few proud moments Eric had in his family lineage. 

But other countries... They hadn't been so quick to catch up. "What happened?" Eric made himself ask. 

Jora reached for the recipe box again, not rising from the stool. "For four years I worked in a Lord's house in the kitchens and stables. I was small and quick and handy with tools. But the Lord had some debts he hadn't paid off, and I had built up my worth, so I was the first to get sold. Right to Edward Nott." 

"That couldn't have been an easy place to be as a child." No, Eric couldn't imagine being only ten years old on the most nefarious pirate ship in the world with the most bloodthirsty and ruthless crew. 

But Jora's mouth twitched up in a smile and he pulled out a card, setting it on the counter. "On the contrary, he was very kind to me. I was five years older than his daughter and managed to keep up in my schooling, so I became Ariel's tutor for a while. My previous Lord spoke French so I was tasked with teaching her that as well. Captain Nott trained me when he trained Ariel, and when I wasn't with them I was working in the kitchens where I'd spent most of my time in the Lord's house."