The Test of Steel

“Elias, I was simply tending to Isabella's wounds," James explained, his voice steady, controlled.
"The way I did with the rest of the crew."

Captain Blackthorn's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the bottle of rum.

"If you're finished, get out," he slurred, his words dripping with disdain.
"Yes, Captain," James replied.

James turned to leave, but Blackthorn's voice sliced through the air, sharp and venomous.

"James, you're pathetic.”
“Weak, just like Father was."

James hesitated, the insult hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. He let it pass, walking out of the cramped, dimly lit cabin without another word. The flickering lantern cast distorted shadows on the walls, amplifying the oppressive weight of the room. Blackthorn's attention shifted back to me, his gaze hard and predatory.



"Pet," he hissed, his voice low, almost a growl.
"You and my brother better have behaved."

His hand shot out, wrapping tightly around my throat, forcing me back onto the bed. The overwhelming stench of rum mixed with the salt of the sea, made my stomach churn. His grip tightened, cutting off my air, his eyes gleaming with possessiveness.

"You belong to me," he spat, his words punctuated with malice.
"Only I touch what's mine."
"Yes, master," I choked out, barely able to speak as my heart raced in my chest.

Satisfied with my submission, he released me, stumbling out of the room, his movements unsteady. The clang of the cage door shutting behind him echoed in the small space. I gasped, lungs burning as I sucked in the air. My body trembled. I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythmic sway of the ship beneath me, trying to steady the storm of fear and pain coursing through me.

I jolted awake the next morning as freezing water splashed over me. I sputtered, sitting up quickly, my wet hair plastered to my face. The thin nightgown clung to my skin, offering no protection from the cold.

"Morning, pet," Captain Blackthorn sneered, already pulling me to my feet.
"We have much to do."

He shoved me toward the small bathroom where an outfit lay waiting. My heart sank as I took in the garments rich, extravagant, and entirely foreign to me. The bodice was deep crimson velvet, embroidered with gold in a pattern that shimmered in the light. The plunging neckline was trimmed with black lace, a combination of elegance and danger. I slipped it on, the fabric clinging to my skin, making me feel powerful and exposed all at once.

The skirt was heavy black silk, adorned with intricate golden swirls that seemed to move with the light. A daring slit ran up one side, offering freedom of movement or a quick draw for a hidden blade. I fastened the leather belt around my waist, its ruby-encrusted buckle gleaming darkly. Attached to it were loops and pouches, clearly meant for weapons.

I slipped into knee-high leather boots, their heels clicking ominously against the wooden floor. The final touch was a black tricorn hat, adorned with a crimson feather and a golden skull emblem. When I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back. Fierce, determined, and ready for war.

Just as I finished adjusting the hat, the door creaked open, and Blackthorn entered, his eyes gleaming with approval.

"Perfect," he murmured, a twisted smile curling his lips.
"You're ready for your training."



Without warning, he grabbed my arm and dragged me onto the deck. The sudden burst of sunlight made me squint, but I barely had time to adjust before the captain's harsh voice cut through the air.

"Get back to work!" he barked at the crew, who immediately resumed their duties.

Blackthorn turned to me; his expression unreadable.

"You'll report to Mauve immediately.”
“She'll train you."
"Yes, Captain," I replied, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice.
"Good girl," he added, the words dripping with dark satisfaction.

I scanned the deck, spotting Mauve easily. She was tall, with piercing eyes that saw everything. She approached with measured steps, her presence commanding respect.

"Morning, Isabella," she greeted, her voice brisk but not unkind.
"Looks like you had a rough night."

Before I could respond, she led me to the center of the deck. The crew kept their distance, watching silently.


"The captain wants me to teach you how to fight," she said, handing me a sword.
"Let's see what you're made of."

The sword was heavy and unfamiliar in my hands. I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves as Mauve demonstrated a series of fluid, precise movements.

"Copy me," she instructed.

I tried, but the blade felt awkward and unwieldy. Mauve corrected my stance patiently, her sharp gaze catching every mistake. Slowly, I began to find a rhythm, the sword feeling less foreign with each swing. Mauve nodded approvingly.

"Good.”
“Keep at it.”
“You'll need to be ready for whatever comes."

The sun began to set. The crew gathered around the deck, watching me train. My arms ached, my hands raw from the grip of the sword, but I felt a growing determination. Suddenly, Captain Blackthorn emerged from his quarters, his presence stilling the crew. His eyes found me, and a smirk tugged at his lips.


"Enough," he called, drawing his own sword with a flourish.
"Let's see if Mauve has taught you anything worthwhile."

The crew muttered, intrigued by the unfolding challenge. Mauve stepped back, her eyes meeting mine.

"Show them what you're made of," she whispered.

I swallowed hard as Captain Blackthorn approached, his sword gleaming in the fading light.

"Isabella," he mocked, "Let's see if you're still as pathetic as when you started."

He lunged, and I barely managed to block his first strike. His movements were fast, and relentless, but I focused on Mauve's lessons, dodging and countering as best I could. Each clash of our swords sent sparks flying, but Blackthorn was far more experienced. He pressed me back, closer and closer to the edge of the circle. I noticed James watched nervously from the sidelines.

"Fight!" he snarled.
"Show me you're not worthless."


Desperation surged through me. I swung with all my strength, but he deflected easily, countering with a brutal strike that knocked my sword from my hands. I stood there, panting, defenseless.

"Is that all?" he sneered.

My heart raced, but I straightened, meeting his gaze.

"Again," I said, my voice trembling but steady.

Blackthorn's eyes gleamed.

"Let's see if you can survive another round."