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" And they tell you that you're lucky,
But you're so confused,
'Cause you don't feel pretty,
You just feel used "
―THE ENTIRE TIME Sturmhond ties me against the chair in the captain's quarters, I writhe around, kicking and trying to get my arms free like a fish flopping on land. I consistently try to reach for my ability, and to my dismay, the Grisha steel is stubborn as ever. Even if I did manage to control something into knocking everyone one deck unconscious, an already near impossible feat, I could never steer this ship anywhere with my wrists bound together like two magnets. Finally, Sturmhond finishes up and takes a step back, making sure his work is fully finished before taking a seat at his desk.
I take in his cabin. Everything is in gleaming, sleek wood, polished to pure perfection. His desk is littered with charts, maps, pieces of a sextant, and rough sketches of what appears to be the mechanical wing of a bird. On the far table where I assume he eats, there's wine laid out with labels revealing just how expensive and rich they are. Vaguely, I notice that there are more beautiful paintings lined up on the wall, each one more extravagant and unique than the last, but I force my gaze to stay on the privateer. He raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his seat while he pours himself some kvas.
"I guess this isn't what you meant by secluded," I say lamely, tugging at my bonds one more time before realizing it's futile.
I'm about to die at the hand of a privateer in a teal frock and golden buttons.
There's no worse way to go.
"Let's not waltz around the subject any more than we need to," Sturmhond states decisively, getting to his feet and rising to his full height. He walks around his desk to stand in front of me, studying my face.
"Why am I here, Sturmhond?" He doesn't reply, so I push on. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to keep around someone like me just for the fun of it."
The privateer shrugs and gives me a sly smile. "It's an idea." I shoot him a glare and his smile only widens. "I mean, you seem like an interesting lady."
I stay silent.
Sturmhond circles me with a pensive look on his face, as if scrutinizing the words on a book page, searching for hidden meanings that aren't there. I turn my head to watch him, squinting at him as I try to figure out his angle. I was afraid he was going to throw me overboard and let me drown in the heavy seas, but I have a hard time imagining him doing such a terrible thing. Maybe it's the teal frock that ruins the image of a stone-faced, heartless privateer.
"I think I'm a fairly reasonable privateer, Yi," Sturmhond muses, placing down his cup of kvas and leaning against his desk leisurely. The ship sways. "And I think that you are a fairly reasonable girl. So I had to ask myself why someone like you would be working for someone like the Darkling."
