From These Raging Seas

From These Raging Seas BOOK 1 OF THE KEELHAUL JACK SERIES BRITTANY CZARNECKI Also by Brittany Czarnecki The Girl Forged by Fate The Girl Destined to Rise The Girl with the Iron Heart Copyright © 2023 Brittany Czarnecki EBook ISBN: 979-8-9875188-1-6 Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9875188-0-9 Hardcover ISBN: 979-8-9875188-2-3 Cover art and design: Franziska Stern www.coverdungeon.com www.instagram.com/coverdungeonrabbit Editor: Crystal Pikko Watanabe www.pikkoshouse.com www.instagram.com/pikkotheeditor Cartographer: Dewi Hargreaves www.dewihargreaves.com www.instagram.com/dewiwrites Formatter: Liz Steinworth www.theartofliz.com www.instagram.com/theartofliz All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to people, places, events, or things are entirely coincidental. For the first reader and fan of this book, April. Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 About the Author Acknowledgments Prologue JACK The sound of my footsteps scuffing on the cobblestones seems too loud in the darkness of the alley. I glance over my shoulder, but there’s no one following me. I’m either too stubborn or too stupid to turn back now. Knowing that it isn’t safe for me to be here does little to stop my feet from taking me to the bar. The splintered wooden doors to the Blue Crab Tavern creak open, spilling laughter into the dark streets of the city. A man with a mug of ale bumps my shoulder as he stumbles past and slurs what I assume is an apology, but he stops when he sees my face. Lowering my hat over my eyes, I enter the tavern, heading straight to the counter at the back. The laughter and chatter of the patrons slowly dies as I weave my way through the crowd. I know it’s risky to stay in the Sunken City, and that my crew will be waiting for me, wondering where I am if I don’t get back soon. I’d ordered them all to stay aboard the Chained Maiden until my return. I just hope they listen. The governess of this city doesn’t exactly like me, and I’ve been banned from returning ever since I roughed up a few of her guards last year, but here I am anyway. I got what I came for, but now all I want is a moment to think about my next move—and a damn drink. At the bar, a young woman with blond hair has a look of worry as I approach. I pull out two gold coins from my jacket and slide them over to her. “Ale,” I say with a smile. Glancing over my shoulder as she pours my drink, I spot many pairs of eyes watching me, but there’s one set that I recognize. A kid sitting in the back of the bar watches me closely. He has dark skin and curly brown hair that tapers down the sides of his head. But those eyes… amber, just like his father’s. A moment after I take a sip of ale, the tavern doors burst open. A sigh deflates my chest as boots stomp over the sticky wooden floor. “You!” a voice yells at me from behind. “You’re under arrest by order of the governess—” “Do you like your hand?” I interrupt, not bothering to turn around and look at the guards. “What?” the guard asks. Now I do turn. The governess’ guards are dressed in deep-purple uniforms, with long jackets that end at their ankles. There are three of them, all blocking the door. Many of the patrons have pushed themselves back against the walls, and some slip out of the tavern for fear of what’s about to happen. “Your hand,” I repeat calmly, lifting my right hand for the guard to examine. It’s carved from oak, and my fingers are permanently extended as if waiting for a hand to shake. The guards exchange nervous glances. “You’re to come with us,” the first one says, but his voice holds all the authority of a pouting child. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” “It’s funny,” I say, smiling, but it isn’t genuine. “How you take something so simple for granted. You never know what you’ll miss until it’s gone.” “Enough!” the second guard yells, drawing his sword. “This is your last chance.” Around the room, a flurry of hushed voices drifts about, falling to the stained floor like dead flies. The unease is thick enough that I’m really starting to regret stopping for a drink. Reaching behind me, I grab my ale and down the whole thing before hurling the mug across the tavern. It makes contact with the guard standing closest to the door. The crunch of bone and cartilage is oddly satisfying, and he cries out as blood explodes from his mangled nose. More people shove back their chairs, hugging the wall as if it might conceal them. The other two guards charge forward, swords drawn. I duck under the first one’s blade and grab him by the throat with my good hand, slamming him face down onto the bar as the other stabs his sword toward my gut. Blocking with my wooden hand, I kick the first guard’s knee out and square up on the other. “St-stand down!” he orders in a shaky voice. A grin splits my face as I reach back in my belt and feel the cold grip of my whalebone dagger. The guard is visibly shaking, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he raises his sword and swings. I throw myself back, losing my hat on the bar behind me. Moving just in