Charge

Chapter 1 - Imprisonment - Part 2

The next time my eyes open, I'm being dragged by two officers across their bridge and into the opened door of the hull with shooting pain in the back of my head. I can feel the grub from this morning in the back of my throat, mixing with the salty metallic taste of my blood. I try to breathe and see how many paces they've dragged me to know how long I was out. Only a brief moment. My mind urges me to kick and struggle against the grip of the two men dragging me by my arms, but my limbs feel heavy and my eyelids threaten to close if I don't focus all of my attention on keeping them open. I notice one of the men is the slim blonde-haired one from earlier - the commander. He's deceptively strong. A slew of curses falls off my tongue incoherently as the haze over my thoughts starts to clear.
"Quiet - lest I hit you again," the blonde man growls, his grip tightening. "Let's get her inside before she regains her strength,"
"Yes, Commander,"

I've never been in an Imperial ship before; I sure as hell never planned on it - and not like this. In the hull is a vast network of floors, the walls made of marble and stone like the castles I've seen down on the surface.  My feet drag along the floor as the two men haul me down winding paths, pulling my body in so many different directions that the only thing keeping me from throwing up is focusing on how cold the floor is as it scrapes against my shins. Somewhere between entering the vessel and now they bound my wrists with a rope that now digs into my raw flesh. I blink my eyes to bring back some clarity while looking around me, knowing I should be familiarising myself with my surroundings but everything begins to look the same - or maybe I'm too concussed to notice a difference. I swallow thickly to fight back the urge to gag on the blood pooling in my mouth. In the end, I give up, closing my eyes tightly and feeling the weight of my spinning head. I carry on like this for a few moments more before the hiss of a metal door drags my eyelids open. With a sudden jerk, they pull me through the doorway and into a dark, cold metal room with a cell door halfway in.
"Wait!" I squeak, the first word I've managed to push out. They don't wait, however, throwing me through the small cell door sending my body flying several paces before landing on my shoulder. Pain shoots up my arm as my head meets the cold ground, the second knock to my brain stealing my consciousness.

My eyelids twitch as I wake from a dreamless sleep, groaning softly at the various aches and pains throughout my body. I lift myself onto my elbows, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through my arms and into my ribcage, making every breath hurt. My arms feel like they've been filled with sand before I look down and realise while I was out someone came in and swapped my rope bindings for metal with a long chain going from my wrists to the back wall. They also took my belt and gear. The thought of someone reaching around my unconscious body to retrieve my belt makes me queasy, or maybe it's the throbbing head wound. There's a small window high up near the ceiling, the only source of light filling up the cell. At least I wasn't out for long if the sun is still up. I falter, realising that the rest of my crew is probably in a cell just like this one; they're probably waiting for me to come and save them. My stomach sinks and twists with guilt. My head snaps to the left as a loud creaking noise startles me out of my thoughts. The huge door that leads to the small space in front of the cell opens, a tall silhouette blocking any light from the open door. I inhale sharply as he closes the door behind him, leaving only bars to separate us. His dark hair is unruly, untied. Not what I'd expect from an Imperial captain. However, the intricate stitching on his cheek draws my stare the most. The wound I gave him will scar. That thought makes me feel a sense of pride but dissipates quickly. For a moment, he doesn't say anything, just stepping carefully up to the bars and squatting down to my level.
    "You look like sh*t," he mutters. Through exasperated breaths, I laugh weakly.
    "Not nearly as shit as you," I spit. He purses his lips, his dark brows pulling to the centre of his forehead. Fueled with spite, I pull my body into an uneasy standing position, prompting him to do the same. "Where's my crew?" My sudden demand confuses him, and he takes a moment to organise his thoughts.
    "Your crew? Why?" He asks. The corner of my eye twitches at his response, thinking it'd be common sense.
    "I am the captain of the Scarlet Dread, and my crew is of utmost importance,"
    "Were the captain,"
    "Where are they, assh*le?" I'm growing impatient, but he looks like he could play this game all day. He brings one gloved hand around the bars, bringing himself as close to me as possible, which makes me jerk backward.
    "Who do you think turned you in?"
        "Yeah sure, my crew, the crew on a pirate ship, who are all pirates, ratted me out to the Empire... for piracy - if you're going to lie to me at least make it believable," I scoff. The man narrows his eyes, his lips twitching as he hides a smirk.
        "It wasn't for piracy,"  he whispers slowly, stepping away from the bars before clearing his throat. "We get many false tips from petty people trying to cash out on bounties. They're never genuine but it's Imperial protocol that we follow up on each and every one of them, taking the accused to the capital for trial," his gaze travels from under his lashes, watching me carefully.
        "I don't understand," I snap, growing impatient.
        "Don't play dumb," He scoffs quietly. "You stand accused because of your blood, and for the first time, it's actually true," His words hang heavy in the air between us as he waits for my reaction. It's hard to think clearly over the ringing in my ears. "I know what you are, Lilith," My heart rate quickens considerably and I instinctively take a step back, clenching and releasing my fists within my cuffs to disperse the stir of magic that gathers in my fingertips.
        "I don't know what you mean," I lie, arching my brows. He shakes his head.
        "I have no patience for this game," He says with a sharp sigh. I flinch, unable to hide my surprise at his bluntness. He returns to the cell bars, removing one of his black leather gloves. Something makes him pause, showing the first sign of unease since I scratched his face earlier. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, taking a deep breath before extending his bare hand through the bars and toward me. I have to blink several times to make sure it's not the concussion or the beat down making me see things but no matter how many times I blink, it's still there every time I open my eyes. On his palm, scarred deep in his skin is the same mark I bear on mine. I reach forward and touch the mark with my finger gingerly, immediately drawing my hand back in shock as magic fills my veins, screaming with excitement as it touches his.
  "You..." I struggle to decide which words to say first. "Who are you?"
    "Cal," he draws his hand back, his black eyes looking somehow darker than before. I knew others survived the purge, but I'd given up hope on ever meeting one. Steam rises within my heart, tightening my chest.
    "You traitor!" I spit out, ignoring the growing heat in my palms. "How could you join - no - how could you thrive in the very empire that killed our people?!" I yank on the chains, trying to reach him, to hurt him.
    "It's not that simple," he growls, looking at me condescendingly.
    "It really f*cking is, you should be ashamed of yourself!"
    "Oh, so now the pirate has a strong moral code?"
    "I'd rather be a pirate than the literal sh*t under my boots," I pull again on the chains, wincing as they pull the cuffs against the raw skin of my wrists.
    "Right, because that's going so well for you," his voice has a bite to it, a sharpness. "You're living on borrowed time, pirate. The emperor will not be merciful,"
    "He lays a hand on me, and I'll tell him exactly where to find another charge," This seems to amuse the man - Cal.
    "Surely you'd know that a dead man will come up with anything to save themselves, but if you really want your last words to be of me, by all means, go ahead,"  he spits sarcastically. My mouth hangs open and through the rage, all I can do is scoff. Cal stares me down one last time before turning toward the door, pressing his palm against it before faltering. "It was Mae, by the way,"