He pushes off the bed in one smooth motion, and your bloodpusher skips a beat as he takes a step towards you. “Really.” “If, if you’re trying to imply anything lewd—” “Lewd? Seriously? You sound like Zahhak.” Another step. Your voice is too shrill when you ask, “But are you?” He braces one hand against the wall over your shoulder, tilts his head to the side, and smirks in that infuriating, awful way. “What do you think?”

"Rapunzel's artistic skills are put to good use on the canvas of her shipmates' skin."

When Kaz explained the mission to her, he'd described a deep-sea fish whose scales could reverse the harmful, out of control magic that was razing the streets of Ketterdam. No one had expected to find this, a half-dead, half-Siren Shu floating in the depths of a ship.

“Brienne of Tarth, yes. I always was better at swordfighting than at about anything else, and — we could say every time he tried to marry me to someone, it went sour.” Her eyes cloud for a second, then she shakes her head. “Then it happened that before he died, Asha Greyjoy showed up at our island for a diplomatic visit.” “I imagine my lady found her an inspiration?” Jaime says, starting to guess where this is going. “Maybe I did. And don’t call me like that. Everyone here likes to, but I’m no lady and I never was. Anyway, she… gave me a new perspective. When the King saw fit to inform me I should come to court so they could find me a marriage, I thought I’d ignore his missive.” “And become a pirate?” “Tarth is in an excellent position for raids,” she says, “and I don’t attack anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Which brought me to the conclusion that if I am to be all tied up in your quarters for the entire night at least, then you must have decided your prize would not be the loot.” Then he winks again and oh. Oh. Brienne is about to shut him up and say that she would fucking never — she knows she’s ugly and she’s known that throughout her entire life, in between Sister Roelle and every single man she’s met since the age of six. She felt sick when those assholes in Nassau bet on whoever would manage to fuck her when she was putting together a crew and only had a ship and her father’s money to her name, and she would never take for a prize like that someone who’d have no choice about it. She’s about to tell him that if he thinks she’d stoop that low to have someone warm her bed he’s wrong and she’d rather have no one at all instead, but she’s not fast enough, because he goes on, and — “To which I say, go ahead and take it.”