Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Nineteen

He woke up in a jail cell, which wasn't altogether surprising. What was odd was that the irons had been left off, and he was free to move around the tiny enclosure. After waking, and discovering the lack of restraints, he'd leapt up and circled the jail—just once. After seeing his cellmate he'd retreated to the far wall and sat down in a pile of dirty hay, keeping his eyes warily averted.

In the adjacent cell, Sykes sat on the stone floor, ignorant of the pain of sitting in such uncomfortable quarters. The look he was giving Dark made Zaina's furious gaze seem tame in comparison. Sykes hadn't stopped either; he stared at Dark, unblinking, letting him bask in the burning anger coming from the other cell.

"I'm—" Dark started, taking a deep breath.

"No."

The single word was all Sykes needed to get his point across. Dark blew out the unused breath between his teeth.

"So I'm not allowed to talk, is that?"

No response.

"I didn't realize that you'd be captured," he said before Sykes could cut him off.

His first mate raised a ruddy brow, crossing his arms over his massive chest. "Aye? And you told me there'd be no problem at all. 'Let's rob the governor', you said. 'It'll be fine', ye said."

"I made a mistake, I admit it."

"Glad ye can admit it."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Aye, I know."

"Then talk to me." Dark hesitated, seeing the steel in Sykes's stare. "Please?"

Sykes shifted, finally moving from his position. "A'right. Ye could say my captain gave me his orders, and I, being first mate, obeyed. Ye could say it was a simple mistake that had me put in irons and thrown in this hellhole."

He paused in his recounting of events, and Dark inched warily closer, watching his first mate carefully.

"Or," Sykes said suddenly, aggressively. "Ye could say that I trusted my friend, and went through with his fool plan even though I didna want to. And then my friend betrayed his word to me, and abandoned me. Ye could say that because of this man, my friend," Sykes shot him a look filled with disgust. "I was caught by our enemies, and thrown in here, waiting to hang for the crime."

He finished, turning abruptly away from Dark. Sykes's back against the bars, motionless, Dark suddenly felt very alone. His words had cut, and the remorse he'd felt upon learning of his first mate's fate rose in his throat, choking him.

"Sykes, I—"

Somewhere above them, a metal door creaked open, and he heard the sound of someone's footsteps descending. He rose slowly, watching the door. When it swung open, revealing a guard, he automatically reached for his weapon, before remembering that he had none.

Sykes didn't react; he remained unmoving, facing away from Dark.

The guard retrieved his key from his belt and unlocked the door to Dark's cell.

"Come with me, Byrne," he said without preamble, pulling out a pair of irons.

Momentarily cooperative, he allowed the guard to shackle him and lead him upstairs, through the fort and into another small, plain room with a wooden table and three chairs. Two of the chairs were already occupied when the guard plunked Dark down into the third.

Worthington glared at him across the table, quietly seething. The second man was a stranger; greying hair, brown eyes, full beard and moustache. His demeanour and formal dress suggested that he was a man of both importance and respect.