Pirates again

By the time we reached the castle's vibrant dining hall, my shirt was stuck to my back and I could still feel Isolde's fingers against me.

I had to will my mind back into reality—the scent of hay still clung to both of us, an intimate secret woven between the pearls and silk of royalty.

The queens were already seated at the long table, soft curves and sharp eyes. Sunlight glinted off rings as they poured wine into crystal glasses, their voices a soft, merging duet of quiet authority.

But my attention snagged on the stranger beside them a new face among old marble.

She stood next to the high-backed chair as if it were hers: tall, honey-colored skin and a commanding presence that required respect.

Her hair was coiled in a crown of dark braids that had silver beads run through them, and her eyes swept the hall like a blade, measuring the people she saw.