In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (best business books of all time txt) 📗

her ankles. Her boots were old and worn, faded from the salt water and the sun. “Did my men hurt you?”

“I gave as good as I received,” Tal said. That was far from true. A few stitches and sand in the eyes didn’t compare with a head wound, a black eye, and a swollen knee, but he wouldn’t acknowledge that to this pirate.

“My sailors said you were soft, but there is steel in your spine. I admire that.”

“Release me and I’ll ensure your death is quick.”

“Well,” she said with a smile, “I don’t appreciate that. Threats won’t work on me. I know what my potential fate is if your family realizes where you are. I took this deal with my eyes open. I also know that your safety will be powerful in a bargain.”

“And where am I?”

“You’re in deep water, boy. Beyond the bay and your kingdom’s domain. Far away from the continent and the one ally your family has.”

Tal stiffened. Had they really traveled that far? How long had he been unconscious? He licked his dry lips. “Why are you holding me?”

She smiled, hard and cruel. “Why else would I hold a prince?” She spread her palms. “Ransom. Assassination. War.” Her gray eyes glinted. “Magic.”

Tal didn’t rise to the bait. He remained impassive. “Well,” he said after a moment of silence, “which one is it?”

She chuckled. “It’s not assassination for now, but test me, and it can be.”

“Whatever you’re being paid, my family will match it and then some.”

She huffed. “Little princeling, if the rumors are true, I would not release you back to your family for all the gold on the continent and the islands. And if they aren’t, well, the person who hired me will determine what to do next.”

“And who hired you?”

She clucked her tongue. “It’s bad business to give away secrets.”

The harsh light pouring in the windows made Tal’s head throb. His knee was hot and swollen, and the bite on his arm bled sluggishly. He commanded every ounce of restraint not to lunge for the bottle of wine teetering on the edge of the desk.

“It’s also bad for business to treat your political prisoners poorly.”

She tapped her finger against her mouth. “And what does the prince demand?”

“Water,” he said, the word scraping out of his throat. “Food. A bath. Clothes. Bandages for the wounds.”

She laughed, hands on her hips, head thrown back. She strode forward, the sword at her side swaying with each step. She clasped Tal’s chin in her hand, nails like talons digging into his skin. She moved his head from side to side, studying him.

“Why not use your magic and summon fresh water? Or heal your wounds? Legend says King Lon survived a spear to his throat from the power of his magic.” She pressed a finger against Tal’s head wound. “This should be easy.”

Flames burned Tal from the inside, fierce and wild, crumbling his resolve into ash. He tamped it down, his palms sweating with the effort.

“I don’t have magic,” he gritted out. He flinched away from her, and this time he did fall to the deck, knee collapsing beneath him. He bit down on a cry and squeezed his eyes shut as they watered. The plush rug in the cabin muffled the thump, and he scrambled away until his back hit the wooden wall. He snapped his eyes open to find the captain staring at him with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.

She squatted in front of him, elbows propped on her bent knees, forehead creased in concern. Her fingertips skimmed his temple as she pushed his dark, matted hair out of his eyes. “You need to make a choice, little prince. Either you prove the rumors true or you don’t. But don’t be mistaken; both choices have consequences.”

Tal steadied himself, then jutted out his chin. Spoiled and arrogant, that’s what he needed to project, not the soft heart that Garrett teased him about. “How long do I have until that consequence?”

“Until your sister’s wedding.”

“It’s about the alliance, then. Ensuring it fails or that it happens. Which one?”

She pursed her lips. “Ah, you are intelligent. That proves one rumor false.”

Tal frowned. Isa’s wedding was in less than a month. He needed to contact his family or escape as soon as possible.

“Are your orders to kill me?”

“Not today,” she said. She stood and offered her hand. “You may call me Zeph. I’m the captain of this vessel, and until my employer tells me what to do, you’ll be safe. But you’re not a prince here. You’re a prisoner and an extra mouth to feed. You’ll work like everyone else.”

Tal took her hand and she hauled him to his feet, but she didn’t let go.

“And if I don’t?”

She considered him. “Men who don’t pull their weight don’t foster camaraderie. You’re a stranger here. You’ll want all the kindness you can find.”

Releasing him, she crossed back to her desk and grabbed the bottle of wine and a goblet. She poured a generous helping and handed it to him. Tal’s hands trembled as he grasped the sun-warmed gold and brought it to his lips, gulping down the sweet wine.

“You’ll be under guard, of course. Sailors can become restless when anchored too long. They like to start trouble, and you’ll be an easy mark. And though you don’t appear foolish, even smart men have been driven to attempt escape. There’s nothing out there but fish and myths. I expect you don’t want to become food for either.” She grabbed the ornate handle of her sword, the delicate metalwork of the cross guard out of place against her simple attire—stolen, most likely. The action was intended as a threat or a show of force, but Tal was unfazed, having grown up with Shay as his shadow.

He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, panting from drinking quickly and forgoing breath. “I promise nothing.”

“No. I didn’t think you would.” She sighed. “We have a healer who will look to your wounds. I’ll ensure you have water