A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 5 - "Marry me, Isla."

The tumult of the tavern echoed in the streets as Isla and Hawk returned. They had barely dismounted when Flick appeared. With a bow of his head, he took the reins and led the horses away.

Hawk took a step towards the docks, but when Isla made no sign of moving, he stopped. Cool, dark brown eyes studied her, able to see beyond the calm exterior to the roiling emotions within. It was a look Isla had often seen on her father, a look she had squirmed away from even when she needed him to know what she felt.

"I'm getting a drink and I'll meet you back at the ship," she said. 

A faint crease cut into Hawk's forehead as if asking her if that were wise.

"I'll be fine," she said.

He glanced at the tavern, surveying the rowdy scene. The frown deepened.

"Do you believe me unable to defend myself?" she asked, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"I don't believe a fight caused in his Lordship's city to be wise."

"Then it will not come to that."

Even with this assurance, Hawk seemed reluctant to leave her. It was a feeling born from watching her grow up. Regardless of calling her Captain, there was a weight he felt for her that came from the promise given to her father. A promise given before Zev had died.

"Leave, Hawk," Isla said, her tone firm. "I will find you when I return and we can make our plans."

After a long warning look, Hawk left. Like a shadow, he disappeared into the dark streets and swirling fog. Isla stepped into the tavern, the warmth of bodies banishing the night's chill. As she passed the bar, Tek spotted her and gave a nod in greeting which she returned with a slight dip of her chin.

Contrary to the noise of the room and the crowded appearance, she found an empty table towards the back. The top was clear of glasses and even the surface had been wiped clean. The lack of grime on the chairs and table spoke of the barmaid's efficiency.

Isla leaned back in her chair, letting the discordant sound of conflicting conversations fill her ears. Boastful tales - that only held grains of truth - were followed by deep laughter. Voices grew as battling lies were challenged.  From the chaos, a red-faced girl - with blonde curls falling over her shoulders - appeared and stopped in front of Isla.

"What'll you have?" she asked.

With her order taken, the maid hurried away, collecting requests as she headed back to the bar. As Isla sat in the din of the tavern she turned over the reasons for her presence in that city. A debt that felt insurmountable. A debt that was not her own, but her fathers. A debt he had left her with when he had left five months before and never returned.

Before Isla realized it, a glass of light brown liquid was in front of her. When she turned to offer her gratitude to the girl, she was already being called to somewhere else. Isla took a drink, letting the sweet taste of mead settle in her mouth before swallowing it.

The glass rattled against the wood as Isla rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. She watched as the liquid swayed from one side of the cup to the other. She drank more, letting the warmth of it relax her. As always her thoughts fell back to her father and along that thread she found there was no end.

There was nothing in her face that showed the conflict warring inside her. Once again she had to find a new way of staying above the demand on her. The only spark of something she could hold onto was the man locked away aboard the ship. But it was a weak spark, not knowing whether Raif would give her what she needed or not.