“Have you anything for me to wear to bed?” I ask Bastian, who frowns from his position in the doorway. “I’m not accustomed to bringing princesses aboard Keel Haul.” He’s hardly apologetic. “Can’t you wear what you have on?” I lift a brow. “This is a ceremonial outfit I just killed a man in. So no, I won’t be wearing this to sleep, thank you. And all I have beneath this dress is skin I’d prefer to keep covered, considering I’m on a pirate’s ship.” While Ferrick’s pale skin darkens to crimson, Bastian’s expression contorts into feigned horror. “Keel Haul may be ferocious, but she is still a
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