Chapter 18

  Jonathon stood in front of the largest doors he had ever seen in his entire life. They were made of solid wood, each carved from a single piece of what must have been a giant of a tree. The carvings that made up the majority of the bottom portions of the doors were simple, yet elegant squares; however, the top of the doors were adorned with an intricate carving of a large star shining brightly over a mass of people.

  “The Brightons,” Cassandra interjected, noting Jonathon’s gaze, “leading the city’s people into the future.”

  “The craftsmanship is incredible,” he replied, attempting to hide his discomfort. “I can only imagine the glory of Mother’s Myth if I’d had this craftsman around when she was built.”

  She smiled weakly, and they fell into silence. As they waited, Jonathon’s mind wandered back to the events that led him to this point.

  ~~

  “You want me to what now? I’m sorry, you want me to go with you to dinner? Why?” Jonathon responded, his mouth losing its increasingly difficult battle with gravity.

  Cassandra averted her eyes and began studying the floor of Jonathon’s cabin intently. “I need someone I can trust by my side. I can’t avoid this dinner, and I know that they’re going to try and push me to return and marry.” She paused again. Her face was soft, almost vulnerable, as her eyes continued to trace the patterns on the floor. There was a quiet resolve in the way her lips were slightly parted, as if preparing to say something difficult. “But they won’t…if they meet my fiancé…”

  Her hesitation and aversion suddenly made sense as realization dawned on Jonathon. Jonathon felt the involuntary increase in his heart rate as he said, “Your fiancé?! What? Me? Cass, are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “No,” she admitted, “but it’s the only thing I can think of to possibly make it out of this dinner and maintain my freedom.”

  “What do you mean ‘maintain your freedom?’” he asked. “You think they would forcibly hold you at home?”

  “Maybe not,” she replied, her eyes finally finding his, “but I don’t know the state of mind they’re in anymore. If they’re desperate enough to continue the bloodline, then they may. But if I’m already set to marry and they feel as though the bloodline is secured, maybe they would ease off of this idea of an arranged marriage.”

  He knew quite literally nothing about her family aside from what she had just revealed, but Jonathon could see how such a plan could work, given what she had said about them. He considered her request. It was an unusual one to be sure, one that would put him in a world he was totally unfamiliar with…but Cassie had stood by him through countless storms and battles; the least he could do was stand by her now.

  “Alright, Cass,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand to shake. “I’ll go with you. Whatever they throw your way, we’ll deal with it. Though I doubt they’ll be happy with their daughter marrying a pirate from Gravenfair…”

  Cassie’s relief was palpable as she stood and shook his hand, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Captain. And you’re right, they wouldn’t accept a pirate…but mayhaps a trader from Silvercove?”

  Jonathon couldn’t help but smile at this. He always enjoyed the idea of fooling people with his powers of deception, and he knew Cassie was using her knowledge of this to try and convince him. “A trader from Silvercove, huh? And how exactly did we meet?”

  “You reluctantly gave me safe passage to Silvercove when I ran away. You showed me kindness without knowing who I was. Once we reached Silvercove, I decided to stay on with you. Over the past few years, we’ve grown closer as I’ve become more and more invaluable to your trading operation. While I ran the trips to Brightstone with you, I never disembarked while we were ported here. Around three months ago, you finally worked up the nerve to propose, and we’ve been engaged ever since. Upon our arrival to port this time, I surprised you by saying I wished to come ashore. I had planned to bring you by to introduce you to my family, but we received the letter before that could happen.”

  Jonathon couldn’t suppress his smile as he noted the hints of truth weaved into her lie. He had warily taken her aboard in Gravenfair without knowing her true identity years ago. And she had indeed made herself invaluable to him and his crew between then and now. “I think I understand. That’s a well-crafted backstory you’ve created.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well then, love, what else should I know for this dinner tomorrow?”

  Jonathon thought he saw the blood rush to her face as they continued their conversation.

  ~~

  The large doors at the front of the mansion opened, drawing Jonathon from his memory.

  He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his clothing. They had stopped by a local store and picked up some clothes “more befitting a trader from Silvercove.”

  Since their conversation, Jonathon had had trouble suppressing the thoughts about Cass that lingered from their time in the jungle, so he certainly didn’t mind doing this for her–especially in light of his current expedition–but he had to admit, the price tag for their outfits had been far higher than he had expected them to be. In fact, he was honestly afraid to even be wearing the clothes for fear of ruining them in some way. He couldn’t imagine finding another reason to ever wear something this nice again after tonight.

  They had also stopped by a barber and each had their hair washed and trimmed to match their outfits. Again, Jonathon had been staggered by how much they charged to do what he could do for free in a matter of minutes. Admittedly though, he thought to himself, their job looked much better than anything he had ever done before. Perhaps Scarlett had been on to something with her teasing of his haircuts.

  “Good evening, Miss,” the man who answered the door said. He was an older gentleman dressed in a butler suit. His tailcoat, bow tie, and gloves seemed almost textbook for what one would expect to find a butler wearing at this time of the day.

  “Good evening, Reggie,” Cassandra replied to the old man, her voice cordial and proper. Clearly, the years at sea had not erased her high society training.

  He smiled warmly at her and said, “Please, come in. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the honor of holding this door for you.” His eyes trailed over to Jonathon’s form. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was sizing Jonathon up, and yet somehow, he managed to perform such a blatant act while maintaining an air of elegance and class. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, the man smiled politely and said, “And who is your guest tonight, Ms. Brighton?”

  “Come now, Reggie, you know you don’t have to be so formal with me,” Cassandra smiled a deeper smile than Jonathon had ever seen. She grabbed his arm and tightly hugged it against her body. “This is my dear betrothed, Captain Harding.”

  Jonathon felt as though his heart was going to tear through his neck, stomach, and loins simultaneously. She had warned him about the fact that she would be acting differently than he was used to, but this was a little too overwhelming. The shift in how expressive she was alone was enough to cause an adjustment period, but the sudden physical contact of his arm with her form was more than he had prepared for. Jonathon had been doing his best to avoid even looking in Cassandra’s direction ever since they had changed into their outfits. It was bad enough that she was no longer wearing her breastbands, but her dress pushed this test of willpower into the extreme. Her dress was an overall dark, deep blue that would make the ocean envious. The top had intricately hand-crafted, cream-colored lace that outlined her exposed shoulders and collarbones before dipping into a cut that Jonathon felt toed the line between classy and intentionally provocative. The top hugged her form snugly, as was the fashion, but unlike other dresses that he had seen women wear that poofed out to exaggerate the their hips, the dress Cassandra chose continued to hug her form all the way down to her mid-thigh before lightly loosening down to the floor. The lace that adorned the top also decorated her sleeves and the design of the lower portion of her dress, creating peaks and dips.

  Even though he had spied on her in the jungle, or perhaps it was because he had spied on her, Jonathon found it nearly impossible to look at her for too long lest he say or do something improper. The sudden contact of his arm with the entirety of her body from breast to stomach made that fear creep ever closer to reality. Despite having worked with her for three years, he had actually had very little physical contact with her aside from the occasional graze of the hand when passing papers, or bump of the shoulder when fighting another crew or a particularly nasty storm. Even the reassuring hand on her knee the other night had been an oddity. Of course, the same could be said for the rest of his crew. It’s not as if he had been avoiding contact with her intentionally, it was just part of him keeping a professional distance on their relationship. He felt the same could be said for any member aboard his crew. While the crew themselves likely had more occurrences of physical contact with each other given the more cramped nature of their living arrangements, it’s not as though they went around gripping each other’s arms or deeply embracing each other. So this level of physical contact was more than Jonathon was mentally prepared for. It didn’t help that it had been a little over a month since he last saw Scarlett, and he hadn’t utilized any of the facilities in Brightstone since they had been docked.

  Whatever, he thought to himself, you’re thinking too hard about this. Just focus up on your job. How do you hope to pass off being betrothed if you tense up at her grabbing your arm?

  Jonathon suddenly became very aware of how long it was taking him to respond. He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “Yes, good evening. My name is Jonathon Harding; I’m a trader between Silvercove Harbor and Brightstone.”

  The butler seemed shocked that Jonathon had offered his hand to shake, and Jonathon wondered, obviously too late, whether or not that had been the right move. Regardless, the old man respectfully shook his hand and bowed elegantly, saying, “Of course, Master Harding. An honor to meet someone special enough to capture our dear madam’s heart.”

  The man moved aside and opened the door further, allowing the two of them entry. As he led them down an obscenely long and lavishly decorated hallway, Cassandra nudged him and whispered, “I’m glad you remember that you’re a trader from Silvercove, Captain, but you don’t have to tell everyone that in your introduction.” Jonathon blushed, and she smiled teasingly at him before continuing, “Just be yourself. The only thing I’ve changed about our story is your profession.”

  “Well, and our romance,” Jonathon added.

  Cassandra looked at Jonathon, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of her lips, as if she were silently indulging his obliviousness, allowing him to miss the significance of her words without pushing him. There was no sadness in her gaze, only a tender patience, as she said, “As you say, Captain.”

  Jonathon, too enraptured in his own thoughts to notice Cassandra’s expression, tried to calm himself. She was right, he thought. She was still an invaluable member of his ship, and he was currently engaging her services as his quartermaster; so, aside from the impending marriage and his profession, their relationship was essentially the same. “Apologies, darling,” Jonathon teased back. “You’re right. I’ll get my act together.” He felt her jump at the pet name and laughed to himself at the chance to tease her.

  They followed the man into a large, ostentatiously adorned room with a winding staircase on either side of the room leading up to another floor. In the center of this staircase on the floor they were on was another set of doors. The butler stopped outside these doors and looked at the two of them. “I will introduce you two. You may then enter.” The two of them nodded, and the man looked to Cassandra and asked, “Would you like for me to introduce this man as your fiancé? Or would you like the honor?”

  “I would prefer to tell them, please,” she responded.

  The man nodded his head and entered the room beyond the doors. “Introducing Madam Cassandra Brighton and her dinner guest, Master Jonathon Harding,” came a muffled introduction from the other side of the doors.

  “That’s our cue,” Cassandra said as the doors opened and she led him into the dining hall. “Just follow my lead, Captain.”

  Though he should have expected as much given what he had already seen of the mansion, the dining hall was larger than any he had seen before. Granted, his experience was bars and brothels, so the bar was already pretty low, but this was still something altogether different. The table that occupied the majority of the room could easily seat thirty people, and the hand-carved stone fireplace in the center of the room had a roaring fire going despite the fact that the weather did not necessitate one. The walls were adorned with what Jonathon assumed were portraits of the family’s prior heads of household. They walked toward the end of the table at the opposite end of the room where a man and woman–assumedly the lord and lady of the house–stood, awaiting their arrival. They both had a genial smile, but Jonathon could see the hint of surprise in their eyes.

  While the middle-aged man wore a head of fully grayed hair and a full gray mustache, his stance and stern gaze showed that there was still a spark of youth in him, his cool, green eyes staring at the two as they approached. The woman, who appeared around the same age, still retained much of the orange that Cassie had inherited, though streaks of gray and white threatened their coming at the edges of her face. She held herself with a formal, yet graceful air that made Jonathon uncomfortably aware of his own posture and stride.

  They reached the end of the table, and Cassandra and Jonathon bowed respectfully to the two individuals, who bowed slightly in return. Then the two moved quickly to Cassandra’s side and each gave her a big hug.

  “Oh Cassandra,” the man began, “you have no idea how good it is to see you after these long years!”

  “Indeed,” the woman continued, “we were so worried that something awful had happened to you. We were so relieved when we finally received word that our letter had been delivered to you!”

  Cassandra smiled, her face a mix of genuine happiness to see her parents again and hesitance about the inevitable conversation. She hugged them each in turn before saying, “Mother. Father. I’m sorry to have worried you so. It’s good to see you both again.”

  The three smiled at each other, temporarily lost to the present as they savored their reunion. Finally, the man noticed Jonathon again and said, “And who do we have here, dear?”

  “Jonathon Harding, sir,” Jonathon said, bowing awkwardly again, wary of offering his hand for a shake in case it was another mistake.

  The man and woman both smiled, amused. The woman said, “Nice to meet you, Mister Harding. Cassandra did not inform us that she would be bringing a guest. Of course, she didn’t exactly tell us she was even coming, but you are of course welcome to join us.” She held out her hand for Jonathon to grasp. “I am Cassandra’s mother, Margaret Brighton, and this is my husband, Anthony. We are pleased to meet you.”

  Jonathon grabbed and kissed her hand gently before saying, “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am. Had you not told me you two were her mother and father, I would have sworn I was meeting her sister and brother-in-law.”

  It seemed even the wealthy were subject to fall for the same flattery as anyone else. Mrs. Brighton blushed and giggled, and her husband smiled graciously as she said, “Oh dear, Cassandra, you’ve certainly brought a charmer to grace our dinner. Please, you two, let us sit and eat. Mister Harding, I will have the servants bring another place setting, so please sit wherever you wish.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Jonathon said, taking a seat next to Cassandra, who sat next to her father at the head of the table and across from her mother. “And please, feel free to call me Jonathon.”

  Servants brought a place setting for Jonathon, and dinner was brought out. Jonathon wasn’t quite sure what he expected to be served, but in his head, he had imagined large platters loaded with a variety of food, maybe even a whole roasted pig. What was set in front of them, however, was much simpler: a simple plate of roast beef with potatoes and carrots. A large basket of bread was set in the center of the group, and the servants stepped back.

  Cassandra was right; they certainly weren’t traditional. While he was disappointed that the spread wasn’t the feast he had imagined, he had to admit, he respected the simplicity of their dinner. They had no one to impress, and they felt no need to flaunt their wealth. A trait that he felt spoke to their character.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “We made your favorite, Cassandra,” Mrs. Brighton said.

  He saw an unsure smile cross Cassandra’s face as she noted this gesture and said, “I see that, Mother. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve even had roast beef, let alone Charlie’s roast beef.”

  Mrs. Brighton’s smile faltered, and she said, “Oh dear, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Charlie passed away a little over a year ago. But he had been teaching his son to follow in his footsteps. I daresay he did a marvelous job; the boy has his father’s talent.”

  The unsure smile on Cassandra’s face disappeared altogether. Jonathon saw a familiar mixture of sorrow and remorse. “I see,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Did he fall ill?”

  Mr. Brighton nodded solemnly and said, “Pneumonia. It was dreadful. It also caused quite the stir of fear amongst the entire household, given the ages of not just ourselves, but our staff as well. Fortunately, no one else fell ill.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. No one had taken even a bite of the food yet. Jonathon was worried if this were to go on for much longer, no one ever would.

  “Well,” he began, awkwardly picking up his utensils and scooping a spoonful of the roast beef, “he sounds like he was a wonderful man and father who was loved well and remembered fondly.” He lifted the spoon and said, “To Charles,” and took a bite.

  “Here, here,” Mrs. Brighton said and also took a bite. Cassandra and her father followed suit, and dinner finally began.

  The roast beef was the most savory Jonathon had ever had in his entire life. Well, maybe not the most savory. That title was still held by the beast he had eaten in the jungle, but still, its quality far surpassed his typical meals. The texture and feel of the meat as it melted in his mouth sent a wave of salivation through him. The potatoes were slightly firm on the outside, but cooked to the perfect amount of softness on the inside. The carrots were…carrots. Jonathon had never really cared for carrots. He’d eat them in stews, but short of that or being drenched in a sugary glaze, he really just saw them as filler for whatever dish they were thrown into.

  He reached for one of the small rolls that sat in the basket at the center of the table. The crust had the perfect level of crisp and crunch to it, and the inside was fluffy and flavorful.

  Jonathon observed the rest of the table to ensure he wasn’t showing his lack of wealth. Mr. and Mrs. Brighton ate as one would expect of a Lord and Lady, knives cutting their bites before delicately placing the food into their mouths and chewing gently. Cassandra, who had reverted to her prior training, also used her knife to cut polite bites of her meal. A stark difference from the woman he had seen eating with her bare hands with the crew. Jonathon briefly wondered which was the true Cassandra. How did she eat when she took her meals in her cabin? How did she behave when she believed no one was around?

  The table sat in the mark of a good meal for a while. While no conversation was had, Jonathon noted the occasional glances of Mr. and Mrs. Brighton to their daughter. He also felt as though Mr. Brighton had been observing him and his actions. He would look up and find the man staring at him or the way he was eating. Jonathon wondered if he was emulating their behavior poorly.

  Once the initial wave of consumption had completed, Mrs. Brighton spoke, dabbing her lips lightly with her napkin. “So, Cassandra, we must ask, where have you been these past four years? We’ve been ever so worried about your health and safety, dear.”

  Mr. Brighton nodded in agreement.

  Cassandra, who had just finished a bite of her meal, set her utensils down, wiped her mouth, and said, “I’ve been in Silvercove Harbor with our guest here running trade routes between our two cities.”

  The Brightons' eyes widened in surprise at their daughter’s response and the idea of her working on a trade vessel. Jonathon held his breath as he waited for their response; this was the first real test of his and Cassie’s story. Would they accept her working on a trade vessel that brought the goods so many in Brightstone valued? Would they consider it beneath her? If they approved, the odds of them approving of the fake engagement between her and Jonathon would be higher.

  After a moment, Mrs. Brighton’s eyes softened, she smiled, and said, “Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve found success in your travels.”

  “Yes, I did always teach you the value of earning what you had with your own hands,” Mr. Brighton added. “Am I correct in assuming then that this man is the captain of your vessel?”

  Cassandra nodded. “Yes. He took me onto his crew with little concern for the fact that I was a woman. I’ve been working with him ever since.”

  At this, their attention turned to Jonathon. Mr. Brighton spoke first. “That is truly a rarity among seafarers these days, given the superstition around having a woman aboard.”

  Jonathon, mimicking Cassandra’s actions, finished his bite, placed his utensils in the same manner she did, wiped his mouth, and said, “It is, but the truth behind the superstition falls to the fact that most don’t trust the crew to behave themselves around a woman when alone at sea for long periods of time. A sad reality in this world, but not one that is of concern with your daughter. She could easily split any man who attempted to harm her. That, along with the repercussions they would face should such a mistake be attempted, have been enough to keep her safe while on board. Her being our quartermaster certainly helps too. I must admit though, I’m not sure I would accept a woman aboard as an ordinary member of the crew. The odds of such an occurrence happening increase significantly when the woman must sleep amongst the men. There’s a difference between superstition and foolishness, after all.”

  “Too true.” Mr. Brighton responded.

  “So, Cassandra,” Mrs. Brighton began, “if you’ve been running the trade routes between here and Silvercove all these years, why have we not heard from you? I know we weren’t on the best of terms when you left, but I would have hoped you would have visited before now.”

  Cass failed to suppress a scoff and said, “That’s putting it mildly,” and the uncomfortable silence crept back between the four again. Jonathon saw the apprehensive look he had recently become familiar with on Cass’s face as she searched for the strength to say what she wanted.

  Her father seemed to find it first as he cleared his throat and said, “Yes, you’re right. You must understand, though, that your mother and I simply wanted to ensure that our family was secure before we left this world.” His eyes shifted away from his daughter’s face, and discomfort crept into his expression as he slowly continued, “In fact, your mother and I have stayed in contact with the Waverlys across the sea. Their eldest son has since married, but the second son is near your age and is, as of yet, unwed. They’re still willing to take the Brighton name. We were hoping that after these years away, you might now be willing to reconsider meeting with the boy?”

  Jonathon felt the discomfort surrounding Cass shift to anger. Her apprehensive face became resolute. “That’s what you want to discuss?! I run away because I don’t want who I marry and when I marry to be dictated. I finally come back and one of the first things you bring up is to try and convince me to continue with the arranged marriage?! What’s more, it’s not even the same man! It’s simply the man’s younger brother, ‘because the eldest has since married.’ As if the man your daughter will spend the rest of her life with is so easily interchanged! Do you even care who you’re trying to marry your daughter off to? Do you even care whether or not I want to marry this man? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t; otherwise, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!”

  The discomfort in the man’s face turned to shame as his eyes cast downward. “Cassandra, we…”

  “It’s Cassie, Dad. You only started calling me Cassandra when you decided I had to marry for ‘the sake of the family name.’”

  The father’s shoulders slumped more, and he continued almost inaudibly, “Cass, we do care about who you marry. That’s why we picked who we picked. Yes, he is the younger brother of your original suitor, but the Waverlys are a good people. And they come from a strong male line. They are well-respected and have no scandals attached to their name. We just want to ensure the future of the Brighton name and the vast wealth and history associated with it.”

  Jonathon couldn’t help but feel for the man. He doubted Cass could see it given how close to the situation she was, but Jonathon could see the conflict behind the man’s eyes. He could see the struggle between doing what he felt was best and what he felt was right: the pain of the knowledge that his actions had caused his daughter so much pain, and the belief that there was no other way.

  “Well, if all you care about is ‘a good family’ and ‘the future of the Brighton name,’ then you don’t have to worry anymore,” Cassandra said sharply. “Part of the reason I even came tonight is to tell you that our guest and I are engaged.”

  The room fell silent at the sudden revelation, and the food in Jonathon’s stomach became made of lead as the cordial, accepting aura that had been extended to him suddenly shifted to one of suspicion and inquiry as the nature of his relationship to their daughter shifted in the minds of the Brightons. Jonathon smiled weakly as he awkwardly waved his hand at the two sitting across from him.

  Mrs. Brighton spoke first. “I see. So, Jonathon, I must confess, I’ve never heard of the Hardings. Your family must be a new name to Silvercove.”

  Jonathon cleared his throat and held his finger up toward the two as he took a sip of his wine…a long one. He put the empty glass down and exhaled as a servant appeared to refill it. “Yes, ma’am. We are not as old and wealthy as most families in Silvercove. In fact, I am the first of my family to find the level of success that we have. Naturally, we come nowhere close to your level of nobility,” he thought he saw amusement flash across the two’s faces at the word, “but we work hard, and we take care of our own. And your daughter is well worth taking care of.”

  Mr. Brighton spoke next. “And do you have any siblings? Who were your parents?”

  Jonathon became uneasy. He had not expected to talk about his parents, though in hindsight, he now wondered how he had expected not to. “I am an only child. My father died at sea when I was very young. My mother practically raised me on her own. It wasn’t until very recently that I was able to work up to having my own vessel. I met your daughter shortly after that, and she’s helped me establish all that I currently have. I truly feel as though I wouldn’t be near as successful without her.”

  “Her name certainly doesn’t hurt either, does it?” Mr. Brighton asked accusingly.

  Cass finally spoke up. “He didn’t know my family name until yesterday.”

  The accusation behind the man’s eyes died down at this. He looked back to his daughter, studying her face for a moment before saying, “And you’re happy?”

  Cass nodded and said, “I am. Captain Harding took me in when no one else would. He didn’t look at me for my gender, but for what I could do and what I brought to his crew. He saw the value of me at a time that I questioned the value of myself. Over the years that we have sailed together, I grew to care for him deeply. I had never met anyone as passionate and caring as he. And not just about his own passions, but about the passions of those around him as well. He’s shrewd in his business, but he has his own set of boundaries that he won’t cross. And he inspires others to hold those same boundaries. Eventually, I found that the affection I had developed for him wasn’t just the fondness of a friend, but love. I couldn’t imagine leaving the life I have with him now. I brought him here hoping that you may remember what you taught me to follow my whole life when pursuing my happiness and fulfillment, accept this engagement, and stop trying to force one on me.”

  The table sat, stunned, Cass seemingly included. Jonathon couldn’t believe she had not only been able to come up with such a story but to be able to say it with such a convincing display of emotion. He couldn’t believe she’d hidden this ability from him for so long. Over the next few minutes, recovery found each individual at the table. Jonathon, being in on the deception, recovered first. Cassandra was next to recover from her performance, and her mother after that. Mrs. Brighton initially appeared as though she was going to speak but chose to hold her thoughts and instead looked to her husband.

  Mr. Brighton’s face was an impenetrable wall of stone as he stared at his plate, contemplating this new reality. Jonathon could detect neither joy nor rage from his features or demeanor, a true testament to the man’s discipline.

  After what felt like five minutes of pure silence, Mr. Brighton seemed to find the words he had been searching for. He looked around the table at each of their faces before settling on Cass. He cleared his throat again and said, “Well, if what you say is true, then not only have you ensured the survival of our family, but you’ve also followed what I have truly wanted for you all along.” His mask fell away as an apologetic smile formed on his face. “I’m so sorry for how we got here, Cassie, but I’m glad you’ve found someone to share your life with.” He turned to Jonathon and said, “I’ve only just met you, Jonathon, but my daughter seems happy and well taken care of. And I trust her judgment. Are you willing to take our family name?”

  “I am,” Jonathon replied.

  Mr. and Mrs. Brighton smiled, and Mrs. Brighton said, “Then welcome to the family!”

  A sense of relief flooded Jonathon and Cass, and they both audibly sighed. Their ruse, it seemed, had succeeded.

  The conversation following this shifted to a much less strenuous nature–at least for three of the individuals at the table. For the next hour, Mr. and Mrs. Brighton peppered Jonathon with questions, testing his knowledge about the trade routes between Silvercove and Brightstone, the state of Silvercove, and the politics of Brightstone. Jonathon followed along, answering questions as carefully as he could, trying his best to remain aware of the invisible line he couldn’t cross. Even as he spoke, however, he could feel Mr. Brighton’s scrutiny, the subtle but relentless probing for cracks in his story. In the end, Jonathon wasn’t sure how satisfied with his answers he was, but they seemed good enough for the Brightons not to question further. There were a few times when Mr. Brighton would look at him questioningly, and Jonathon thought his cover had been blown, but then he would smile and continue the conversation. He wasn’t sure if this was a scare tactic or what, but considering nothing bad had happened, he counted it as a win.

  As their questioning died down, the servants cleared the dinner plates away and brought out dessert, a chocolate mousse with whipped cream and raspberries on top. As they exited the room through one of the doors behind Jonathon, one of the servants dropped a tray. The loud clatter caused him to turn around and look at the commotion.

  Jonathon heard a small gasp come from Mrs. Brighton, and when he turned back, found that she was looking at him. “Is everything ok, Mrs. Brighton?” he asked warily.

  “We just noticed the tattoo on your neck.” Mr. Brighton answered. “Care to explain what a trader is doing with such a thing?”

  Shit, Jonathon thought. The compass rose on the backside of his neck would have normally been hidden by his clothing, but part of it must have been exposed when he turned to look at the commotion.

  “Ah, that,” he started tentatively, unintentionally reaching towards his neck. How was he going to spin this?

  Wait a second, he thought to himself, they had likely only seen part of it. They probably didn’t even know what it was. It’s not like he had a Jolly Roger on his neck. Tattoos like a compass rose were common amongst all seafarers. He continued more confidently, tugging the collar of his shirt down for the two to see. “It’s a compass rose, Mr. Brighton. Surely you’re familiar with this tattoo. It’s very common amongst seafarers. It ensures the sailor will always find his way back to his home port.” He was relieved that his outfit covered his arms. Some of the other tattoos he had would be much harder to pass off as benign.

  Mr. Brighton smiled and said, “Of course it is. I’ve spoken with traders with such tattoos before. If I recall correctly, it also serves as a symbol of charting your own course. A life guided by your own rules as you search for freedom and fortune, correct?”

  Jonathon felt a surge of surprise at the man’s knowledge behind the tattoo’s meaning. He also began to feel a bit of kinship with the man as he pinpointed the truth behind Jonathon’s tattoo. He smiled genuinely and said, “That’s correct. That is another aspect of the tattoo, and one I feel I resonate with more. You’re well-informed.”

  Mr. Brighton politely returned the smile and continued, “Jonathon, I couldn’t help but notice your hands are fairly scarred. I feel as though I don’t commonly see other traders with hands as scarred as yours. Do you see a lot of combat on your trade routes?”

  Jonathon suddenly felt self-conscious about himself. “Sadly, I do,” he started, unintentionally moving his hands out of sight. “Pirates are an ever-present danger to our livelihood.” Mr. Brighton stared shrewdly at Jonathon. Shit, he just said he doesn’t commonly see traders with hands like his, and his knowledge would certainly be of traders between Silvercove and Brightstone. “But I do admittedly feel as though I am attacked more frequently than others in my profession,” he added hastily. “Likely because my ship appears to be an easy target compared to some of the larger trading vessels on the sea.” He smiled as he thought of the deceptive lethality of Mother’s Myth. “That is, of course, until we broadside ‘em and send the bilge rats to the depths.”

  He felt Cassandra’s hand grab his leg and tighten its grip under the table. He jumped at the sudden contact. Had he said something wrong? Maybe she wanted him to steer the conversation away from sailing in general? It’s not his fault though, they asked him. He looked to Mr. and Mrs. Brighton to gauge their response to his answer. It wasn’t encouraging.

  Mr. Brighton’s masked expression had returned. Mrs. Brighton, however, was a far easier read than her husband. Her face gave Jonathon all the information he needed: they were concerned. Jonathon’s heart began to race as Mr. Brighton’s brow furrowed, and he said, “Cassandra, who have you brought into our house?”

  Cassandra, her voice betraying her expression, said, “What do you mean, Father? I’ve brought my fiancé.”

  “Let me rephrase then,” he responded, his voice as cold as his stare. “What have you brought into our home?” He turned his steely gaze onto Jonathon. “You claim to be a trader, yet you bear a tattoo with a symbolism that is more common to pirates. You bear the hands of a man that has seen much combat, and your casual talk of naval tactics and combat are more than I’d expect of a trader. Not to mention I don’t think I’ve ever heard a trader use the term ‘broadsiding’ or ‘bilge rat’ before. So I ask you again,” his gaze unwavering as they bored deep holes into Jonathon’s soul, “what have you brought into our home?”

  Jonathon felt he may choke if the tension in the room got any thicker. Despite the man’s older age and likely lack of real-world combat, Jonathon couldn’t help but feel a genuine sense of danger emanating from the man in front of him. He was scrambling to think of how to recover. He may have been able to play off the meaning behind his tattoo, or maybe his hands, but with all three working against him, Jonathon felt convinced the jig was up. He looked to Cass; her face was one of fear as she stared at her father’s expression.

  “What have you done to my daughter, you fiend?” Mr. Brighton spat at Jonathon, rising from his seat at the table. “Did you come across her during one of your raids and decide she’d make you more money in ransom than selling her as a slave?!”

  Jonathon’s anger surged and his fear was lost at the man’s accusation. As if he would ever trade in human lives! He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Cass spoke first, “Never! He would never do something so terrible as trade in human lives! Yes, you’ve caught us, he is not a trader, he’s a pirate…but so am I! But this changes nothing Father. I will marry this man, and you can either learn to accept this and who we are, or you can find a new way to continue your precious bloodline!”

  At this, her hand moved from Jonathon’s leg to his hand. She stood and stormed out of the room, dragging Jonathon behind her. As Jonathon looked back at the two, he couldn’t help but lament the result of the evening. Mrs. Brighton had a look of pure terror and sorrow on her face for her daughter. Mr. Brighton was a mixture of fury, fear, and regret as he watched his daughter storm out of the room, all three of them too stunned to stop her.