When Whitley winds up on the top of a pirate hit-list thanks to her con-artist father, she must hide her identity and board another pirate ship, trusting in one shape-shifting pirate named Bluff to help her escape. Too bad you can never, ever, trust...
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Whitley
There is a full length mirror in my room. I never had one of these before. Jeb had one in his massive downtown house. I always envied the ability to look yourselves over so thoroughly before a ball. Now, it just feels strange. Who actually wants to look at themselves that closely?
It feels incredibly foreign. Everything about this place does, even my handmaid.
"You look beautiful, miss."
I bite my lip, unsure I agree. The woman is old, her back bent forward with age. Not exactly a good judge of beauty.
"Thank you," I say in a near whisper.
She approaches slowly, like she's concerned she'll spook a wild animal, then pulls one small clip from my hair, letting a slim strand of blonde hair fall against my face. I smile. Oddly enough, that simple act makes me look prettier. More natural.
"Thank you," I say again, but this time it's sincere. "What is your name again?" I ask. She's our servant here. I don't like the idea of servants because honestly, I should probably be one myself. We're only pretending to be anything other than low class.
"You can call me Angela."
"That's a very pretty name."
She smiles and lowers her head as she backs out of the room and I take one more look at myself in the mirror. My fingers glide over the broach on my chest.
"Wait," I call to Angela her just before she disappears down the hall.
She pops her head back in. "Yes, miss?"
"Have you seen my necklace? It's a ring on chain. It should have been in the jewelry box." If I have the broach, it means my mother's ring should be nearby as well.
"No miss. Would you like me to look again?"
"Please. It was my mothers. I wanted to keep it with me on the journey here but my father insisted we keep it in the box for safe keeping."
"Of course miss."
"Are you ready, Whitley?" my father calls. I whip my head towards the hall, not at all ready to leave this room. I may never be ready. But I know my father won't wait long.
"Just a moment!" I call back.
I turn back to Angela as she searches through my very small collection of jewelry. Most from Jeb, only a few from our former life in Wales. She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, miss. I don't see any rings here."
I bite my lip. "Okay, thank you. I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere."
