DREAMS of a CLOUD
Peruse the many random ramblings of a writer-in-training as I build stories and develop my craft.
19 April 2024
For a long time, Moira didn’t answer. Then she asked, “How many people do you think are willing to challenge the Pirate King face to face? To all but demand something from him when they do?”
Elliott blinked. “That sounds like suicide.”
“I don’t understand,” Elliott pouted. “You’re a pirate, aren't you? Why are you risking so much to help me set up this resistance?”
For a long time, Moira didn’t answer. Then she asked, “How many people do you think are willing to challenge the Pirate King face to face? To all but demand something from him when they do?”
Elliott blinked. “That sounds like suicide.”
“Right?” Moira turned to watch Charles, who was struggling to climb up the rigging after Arylwen. “And yet that boy did just that. In the King’s own throne room, even.” She chuckled. “Oh, he was polite about it. Said ‘please’ and everything. But even then, and even trembling with fear, he showed more spine than men three times his size.”
“That’s it?”
“What other reason would I need? It’s why I joined up with Jasper in the first place, after all.” She dipped her head in Charles’ direction. “Mark my words; that boy will be a king someday.”
Elliott’s stomach twisted, and it took effort to keep his face passive. “And me?”
Moira raised an eyebrow, then smirked at him. “We’ll make something of you yet, little princeling.”