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I avoided going back to Rikard's room for as long as I could. I found the men playing cards, and informed them of the prince's orders. I went to my quarters. Of all the men on board, only Rikard, Jerald and I had private rooms.

Mine was tiny, but the other men were crammed four to a cabin. I was grateful for small favors.

I changed into my exercise clothes and made my

way to the room deep in the belly of the ship that served as a gym of sorts for myself and my fellow guards. I ran on the treadmill until my legs felt like rubber and my lungs burned.

At twenty-five, I was young to be captain of the

prince's personal guard. I knew I should have been pleased, and sometimes I was. But at times like this, stuck on a tin can in the middle of nowhere simply because Rikard was bored of the whores at home, I couldn't help but wish I was still a lieutenant with my old regiment.

Back in my own quarters, I showered and dressed.

When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror,

straightening my uniform. I wasn't sure why I bothered. I knew I wouldn't be wearing it long. It wasn't standard military issue. It was the uniform of Rikard's private guard.

It was stiff and cumbersome, with far too many layers. It

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was designed for flash, not function. It was completely impractical for fighting, but it made us all look respectable.

It made Rikard feel important.

I thought about the pirates. I'd seen them earlier, going about their business in the port. If their ship was outrageous, it was nothing compared to the men

themselves. They were impossible to miss. Almost all had shaved the sides of their heads and had tattoos on their skulls. Many had grown what was left of their hair into long mohawks, either spiked or ratted into place, dyed garish, unnatural colors. They wore silk shirts and fine leather boots, all undoubtedly stolen, and the men I'd seen wore more eye makeup than the most common whore back home.

They were peacocks. I found them disturbing.

I checked my uniform in the mirror one last time,

debating whether I was going to indulge myself, if only for a moment. In the end, I decided there was no real reason not to. A gray metal cabinet built into the wall of my room served as my dresser. I knelt and pulled out the bottom drawer. Hidden behind it was a bag. My heart raced as I pulled it out. My cock grew hard in the confines of my uniform pants.

It was a risk bringing these items on board, but

faced with weeks or even months away from home, I hadn't

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been able to leave them all behind. It was a small pleasure.

Why should I deny himself?

I reached into the bag, fondling what was hidden

inside, wishing I could do more. Wishing I could take them out and feel them against my flesh…

But it wasn't to be.

With a sigh, I put the bag back in its hiding spot and replaced the dresser-drawer that hid it. I shifted my fading erection in my pants before leaving my room.

I had one last duty I was expected to perform

tonight.

* * * *

Rikard was waiting for me. He was slightly drunk,

still wearing only his fur robe.

"Captain Kelley," he said as he grabbed my belt and pulled me through the door. "You made me wait so long."

"My apologies, sir."

"Oh, Trissy," Rikard purred as he pushed close and began to undo my pants. "Don't pretend like you don't know why you're here." He wrapped one arm around my neck and pulled me down into a kiss. His lips were cold but his tongue was sweet and smoky from the tobacco he

smoked. My body began to respond to him, as it always

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did. Sometimes I thought my cock did it just to spite me.

"Fuck me, Trissy," he whispered. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Did I? It was a question I'd pondered a great deal, both before and after I actually did the deed. I didn't love the prince—I barely even liked him, most of the time—and while it was true the time spent in his bed often felt as much like duty as pleasure, the simple fact remained that when Rikard shed his robe, when he got down on his hands and knees in front of me and begged me to fuck him, I always rose to the occasion. I knew it made me weak, and yet it never changed. As I gripped the prince's hips and drove into him from behind, I always found it hard to remember why I sometimes loathed him. Whatever his

other faults, the man was a great fuck. He was a demon in bed.

Of course, once it was over, Rikard would light one of his expensive cigarettes. He'd put his robe back on and dismiss me with a flick of his slender wrist. It never hurt my feelings. My pride, though? My pride suffered a bit each time. It was at that moment I always wished I wasn't the prince's favorite playmate. That was the moment when I wondered if my willingness in bed had gained me my

promotion, rather than my prowess as a captain.

"Come on, Trissy," Rikard moaned, grinding

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against me harder, looking up at me with glazed, pleading eyes. "Fuck me, baby. I know you want to."

His pupils were huge. There was more than alcohol

and imported tobacco flowing through his bloodstream. I knew what that meant—Rikard's favorite drug made him wanton, and more than a little bit desperate. It heightened his arousal while making his orgasm frustratingly elusive.

It might have helped if I was willing to use some of it myself, but I hated the way it made me feel in the morning.

"Fuck me," Rikard said again as he reached down and began to stroke his own cock. "Trissy, I need it. Now!"

I sighed as I began to unbutton my stiff uniform

coat. For better or worse, I was in for a very long night.

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The nice thing about being dismissed immediately

after sex was that I rather liked sleeping in my own bed. I was willing to fuck Rikard, but I was glad I didn't have to fake any post-coital intimacy with him.

Despite not getting back to my room until far too

late, I slept well. I felt good. We'd made it out of port without any trouble. Maybe Rikard had been right after all.

I'd had extra men on duty through the night,

although what exactly they would have done if the pirates had pursued us, even I didn't know. Now those four men were sleeping, and the crew would be back to two-man rotations. The farther away we distanced ourselves from Roland, the more relaxed they'd all become.

Days en route were long and tedious. On such a

small ship, there wasn't much to be done. Some men read.

Some filled their free time with exercise. But no matter what, things always became tense after a few days. I often thought the crew would be better off if they'd simply shed their clothes and enjoy a good old-fashioned fuck, but they never did. As far as I'd been able to determine, none of the men on this particular trip were willing to fool around with another man, even if it was the only thing on board worth doing. By the time we reached our destination the entire lot

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of them would be unbearable. The whores on Belhah would end up bearing the brunt of the men's frustrations. I hoped they charged well for their services.

Rikard didn't insist on sex that night and instead

dismissed me immediately after dinner. He was clearly bored with me and anxious to find somebody new to

entertain him on Belhah. I was too relieved to be offended.

I went to the exercise bay and pushed myself long and hard.

When I finally returned to my quarters, I fell into bed, too exhausted even to indulge myself with what lay hidden behind my dresser-drawer. I fell sound asleep.

I woke to men shouting, seemingly just down the

hall from my room. I couldn't make out their words, but there was no missing their urgency. Men yelling wasn't necessarily indication of a problem—more than likely, it was simply two men having a disagreement, as often

happened when we were locked together in such tight quarters for any amount of time.

I was halfway into my pants when the alarm went

off, a loud, blaring horn that caused me to clamp my hands over my ears. Still barefoot, wearing only my uniform pants, I stumbled into the hallway and turned toward the commotion at the end of the hall.

Pirates!

I had only a moment to see it all: Rikard, fully

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dressed and blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, and the pirates with their loose silk shirts and their bright, spiked hair. They were all wearing wrap-around mirrored shades over their eyes, and I had just enough time to realize what that meant, but not enough time to do anything about it before the flashgun blinded me.

Flashguns were a favorite weapon of pirates—they

blinded the victim, but not permanently. With laser treatment, eyesight could be restored almost immediately.

Without treatment, eyesight would generally return in four to six weeks. It incapacitated without lowering the trade value of the commodity. Even knowing it was coming, the sudden loss of sight was unbelievably disorienting. I stumbled and fell into the wall. I had to use it to hold me up. I kept blinking—some part of my brain seemed to think it would help.

The blaring alarm stopped, leaving my ears ringing.

"Is he the last?" one of the pirates asked.

"According to our intel, yes. Good idea, pulling the alarm."

They'd already taken all of the men on the ship

without setting off any alarms? How was that possible?

I had my bearings back now. I pushed away from

the wall, moving to the middle of the hallway to give myself room to fight them. They'd already taken all of my

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men, but they weren't going to take me so easily. The fact that none of them were behind me would make it easier.

I could hear their footsteps as they came for me.

There were two of them.

"No point in fighting," one of them said.

Nice of him to speak up so I knew where to direct

my attack.

I hit him with a solid kick to the face. I felt his nose break under my bare heel—my hand-to-hand instructor from years ago would have been proud. Predictably, the other one grabbed me from behind. It was easy enough to flip him forward over my shoulder. I drove a punch down into him. I missed his nose. It felt like I hit closer to his temple instead, but it was enough that he cursed.

Of course, the rest of them had figured out I wasn't going as easily as they'd hoped, and they jumped me all at once. I fought them as well as I could, and I was pretty sure a few of them took elbows to the face, but I couldn't see, and they had me vastly outnumbered, so it ended the way we all knew it would: with me pinned to the ground.

"Son-of-a-bitch broke my nose!" one of them said, his voice muffled, probably by his hands.

Another laughed. A couple of the others were still

moaning and cursing. The pirates wrenched my arms

behind my back and tied my wrists before yanking me to

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my feet.

"You done fighting?" one asked, obviously amused.

Any sense of direction I'd had after being blinded

had been lost during the fight. I couldn't see. My arms were tied.

I knew when I was beat. "Yes," I told him. For now, at least.

"Good," he said. He took my arm and began leading me down the hallway. "I've never had a blind man cause so much trouble."

Still with the amusement. I wished he were angry.

"I suppose that will teach them to assume too

much," he continued.

"I wasn't trained to quit."

"None of your men fought like you."

"Fucking bastards!" I wasn't sure if I meant him or my waste of a crew.

He apparently assumed I meant his band of pirates.

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"How did you get past the lock code?" I asked.

"You'd have to ask Captain Yima."

The truth was, I didn't need to ask Captain Yima. I already knew. Somebody had given them the code. There was no other way they could have gained access to our ship so quickly and so quietly. The question was, who? Which

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one of my men had betrayed us?

Our ship was small. Even blind, I recognized our

route. He led me to the airlock, which meant he was taking me to his ship. I heard the door close behind us, then a wave of cool air washed over me as the door in front of us opened. It smelled awful, like some kind of feces, and I winced.

"Sorry about that," he said as he led me across a large, echoing chamber. "Our last job was transporting a herd of sheep. I'm not sure we'll ever get rid of the smell."

I didn't answer.

"You're Captain Kelley, are you not?" he asked. He was shorter than me by an inch or two—I could tell by the direction of his voice. "I thought so," he said when I didn't respond. "Rather young to be a captain, aren't you?"

Yes, but I wasn't about to confess anything to him.

"You can obviously fight," he said. "Is that why they promoted you so young?"

Again, I chose to remain silent.

"Leadership can be a burden. Especially at such a young age."