Free The Princess's Bride by KT Grant Page B

throats and feed them to the sharks, but we're surrounded by enough bloodshed as it is. At least my uncle never went as far as killing people, including those who tried to stab him in the back."
    Mister Martin sat back against the desk and scratched his bald head. "God rest his soul.
    And of course your mother's."
    Dread nodded and walked over to the vanity. She grabbed a bar of tea tree soap and began washing her hands. "I need a stiff drink. What do you say we give the boys the night off and let them enjoy a bit of wenching and carousing?"
    Mister Martin looked at Dread in surprise. "Didn't know you were up for a little slap and tickle, Captain."
    Dread wiped a damp towel over her chest and neck. She curled her lip at her reflection in the small oval mirror and traced the towel over her scar. "None for me. You and I will find a nice corner table at one of the Cove's pubs and talk."
    Martin's brow knitted and he scratched the top of his head. "Sure thing, Captain."
    "You look nervous," Dread said as she glanced at Martin in the mirror.
    "Me, nervous? Fiddle-faddle. I have some concerns, but that's not the same thing."
    "Good. We don’t have time for that. We have more important business to discuss."
    "And what does this business entail?"
    Dread spun around and threw the damp towel on the floor. She gave him a wide smile.
    "Revenge, my man. Sweet revenge."

    ****
     
    Pickled Pete's Pub was filled with many hearty sailors who had a deep thirst for a few pints of ale, a game of dice or cards and an hour or two with the house wenches, if they still had enough coins left in their pockets. The loud buzz of conversation and a few drunken, bawdy tunes were being sung around a piano.
    The crowd enjoyed themselves as the sun started to set. In a few short hours, many would either end up passed out in a dirty alley, or they would climb aboard their ships to sleep off their excesses.
    Captain Dread and Mister Martin sipped from the metal mugs their serving wench had just set down on the scarred table. Dread took a deep gulp as the wench whispered something into Martin's ear. She yawned as one of the girl's nipples popped out from her sagging bodice.
    Mister Martin shook his head no and gave her a coin, which she bit down on and slid into the gaping front of her tight dress. She walked away with a swing in her hips, looking for her next paying customer.
    "Sorry 'bout that, Captain. I just can't help that I'm so irresistible to the ladies." Mister Martin apologized, held up his mug and tapped it with Dread's. He laid his arm on the table and turned to the side to stare around the room. Dread copied his movements.
    "It's a shame that the 'ladies' don't have a chance with you," Dread said, giving Mister Martin a light punch on his arm.
    "Um… such a shame it is," Martin grumbled and coughed into his hand. "I take it we will set sail for Flaundia in the morning?"
    Dread nodded. "By daybreak. I want to make sure we arrive with enough time to spare so we can plan our attack." Dread reached under the table and produced a bag. She opened it and pulled out a month-old newspaper clipping, sliding it across the table to Mister Martin.
     
    He picked it up and began reading. After a minute he looked up at Dread and scratched his chin. "All it says here is that Humphrey is holding his annual charity ball for one of the Flaundian orphanages."
    "Read further down. The article goes on to say rumors keep persisting that Humphrey will announce his engagement during the ball."
    Mister Martin took another drink from his mug and covered a burp. "Who's the unfortunate lady?"
    Dread crossed her arms and shrugged. "The article never mentioned the woman by name.
    Most likely some rich society brat. Knowing Humphrey, he would only go for some loaded beauty he can line his pockets with, since he is close to going bankrupt because of us."
    "Captain, are you certain you want to go to such lengths? It is one thing to steal Humphrey's livelihood, but to kidnap an