Maelstrom

It was a beautiful night to die. 

The cart rolled to a jerky stop as the inquisitive crowd pressed in to catch a glimpse of her. Dozens of grimy hands reached in, grasping at her fine cloak and leather breeches. Why they’d let her keep her finery and baubles was a complete mystery to her. Perhaps, they thought it ironic that she would hang along with her stolen riches. Faces from the crowd leered at her. Some spat and shouted profanities. Others were simply grasping for a quick glimpse of her face or a piece of cloth from her coat. She supposed an item of clothing from the deadliest thief in all of Thenia would sell greatly as a souvenir for the day. 

The cart drove right up to the gallows and she was herded out violently, but her mind was elsewhere…far away in the abyss. She stared blankly at the dark night sky—not simply black, but a deadly captivating ebony that swirled with blistering stars. He would’ve loved to watch these stars. The mask was pulled roughly from her face to give the people a last long look. The crowd was a babbling mass of mindless fools. She glared as she heard gasps. She knew what they saw. A face hauntingly fine, it startled all unfortunate beholders. She’d heard many descriptions within the span of her nineteen years. Arresting…elegant…stunning. A few witless men had bothered to compose simpering sonnets dedicated to her face alone. Beauty was a curse in its own right. She knew that better than anyone. 

Still, the night was magnificent, a glorious night to die. 

A bitter-sweet smile curved her lips. The mask smacked back onto her face returned her vacant unseeing eyes to the hangman as he deposited a guinea in her hand. A hood was put over her head and her legs tied. Then the noose draped heavily on her shoulders and tightened. She took a deep breath, one of her last. Tears blurred her vision. The blood coiled hot in her veins. Somewhere, a lever was pulled and she descended into emptiness. 

Her lips opened on a soundless gasp. Panic combined with the noose to choke the life out of her thieving pirating soul. Fire flowed underneath her skin. She saw his face, clear and handsome as the night. 

And then she hit solid ground. 

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The life of a thieving pirate had always been that of a ticking time bomb. The gallows had never been too far off in her future. Three days ago, it would’ve been him standing before the hangman. She’d rather die than let that happen. So here she was. She could still see the look on his face when she’d burned that ship and pushed him off the deck. 

“No!” 

The cry rang through her ears. Bellowed out from the ocean. It was a hoarse desperate sound. He grasped at the ropes, shouting and begging her not to do as she planned. How could she tell him she would rather be buried alive than see him hang from a rope, his legs swaying listlessly above the ground? She knew well enough that it was his nightmare too. He would die before he saw her hurt. A shame she would do it first. She’d stolen the choice from him. He cried out for her and cursed her for loving him too much to let him face this fate. She wouldn’t look back, she told herself. No, she wouldn’t. But even as the desperate thought sprang through the fog in her mind, she threw herself to the edge of the sweltering ship, the tears dancing down her cheeks. 

His eyes. God, she would’ve gladly given decades of her life to have been spared the sight of the agony there. He would never forgive her, she knew. She watched morbidly as emotions crossed his handsome face. Horror, despair, anger. Then terror. His lips moved even as his hands reached out for her as the soldiers swarmed the blazing deck.

She didn’t bother acknowledging the soundless words that escaped his mouth. It would doubtlessly be some shattering declaration of love. It would be mawkish and, and would definitely make her throw herself overboard if only to simply be in his arms. So she turned away and allowed herself to be apprehended. He would swim away. He would have no choice. She had faked his death. She prayed desperately that he would not think something foolish as to try to rescue her. 

She wanted to cry and rage from the unfairness of it all. Happiness had been plucked out of her hands and replaced with a maelstrom of heartbreak and anguish. Still, she’d do it over again. She would pirate the southern seas with him over and over, and still face the gallows so he would never have to. He glared with helpless anger, moving his hands swiftly underwater to stay afloat. She knew he wanted to climb back on deck and cart her off. She knew also that he was aware that it would cause more damage than good. He didn’t exist anymore, she’d made sure of that. 

Behind her the foremast splintered and bent backwards, smashing to the flaming deck. The shrouds tore free as the ship collapsed in on itself. His shouts were frantic now, ripe with a terrible fear and desperation that made her heart ache. He was swimming for her. The onslaught of tears made it difficult to see clearly and she was glad of it. At least she’d be spared the look on his face. The clamour on the ship spurred her into action. She would have to be alive for the hanging, wouldn’t she? She couldn’t possibly allow herself to burn to death. 

Her lungs were on fire, her chest felt like a dead weight. Soldiers and a horde of constables hurled her off the ship as the main mask tore free and crashed through the deck to the gunports and cabins below. It was all over. She didn’t feel the cold of the chains they placed around her arms. Her eye fixed unwaveringly on the silhouette of the hulking figure a few yards from the flaming ship. That figure promised vengeance. For the briefest of moments, she pitied the fates of the men who held her captive.