The last few months of Reyna's life had been the worst.

She had woken up in un calabozo; or, simply, a tiny room, one wall of which was wooden, the other three walls of which were iron bars. It must have been in the hull of a ship because there was a steady, pedantic rocking. There was no privacy for anything, except the what was offered by the dark; there were no lightbulbs, flashlights or even torches.

She was not alone in her cell, however. She shared it with three other former spa attendants, one of whom was Miss Becca. Miss Becca had spoken to her when she had first woken up, her tone sounding like, I-knew-you-were-going-to-wake-up-eventually-because-that's-what-people-do-but-shame-on-you-anyway. Reyna wondered if she could hit her now that Circe wasn't there. Or was she? The brig had been full of the wailing and crying of other captives. Reyna assumed that they were the spa attendants. There was no way to tell who was there and who wasn't, since she couldn't see them, and two people she couldn't locate were Circe and Hylla.

She couldn't help but imagine where they had ended up, and hope that Hylla wasn't dead. The sentiment didn't extend to Circe.

Hours passed without much variation. There was nothing to indicate whether it was day or night, and none of the piratas came down. It had been unbearable— all of the screaming and crying the attendants put out. Reyna didn't relate. She felt like rolling into a ball and maybe shedding a few silent tears, trying to melt the throb of fear in her chest, but screaming seemed futile. The piratas didn't care. They were probably enjoying it, laughing over a bottle of rum about the distress of their captives.

Then three piratas had strode down the stairs, bringing with them two flickering torches. The attendants had flocked to the bars; Reyna had slipped back. She did not want the piratas to notice her. Nothing good could possibly come from it.

With a screech of metal on metal a cage door was opened; one of the pirates pulled out an attendant; and door was closed again. Reyna didn't know the woman, but she pleaded with the piratas. They ignored her. One of the others seized a woman from another cell, closed his hand around her upper arm in a grip like a vise, and the piratas marched their captives above decks.

They had not come back down until what felt like a few days later. The women were not with them. Again they removed two of the attendants from the cells, and again they marched them above decks. Again they didn't come back down. This cycle had repeated for what felt like months.

Now Reyna was used to the general atmosphere of being en un navío de piratas; she had gotten used to one meal a day, the smell, the rocking of the boat, and having nothing to do for hours on end. No, for days on end. She would have killed to have something to pass the time; a board game, a ball, even a half-used pencil would suffice. But she didn't dare ask. As far as she had seen, none of the spa attendants had tried to debate with the piratas. Now they all followed Reyna's lead and shrunk back as far as they could, hoping not to be picked.

Reyna feared for her life. The number of spa attendants had dwindled to seven. She was alone in her cell except for Miss Becca, who stayed so quiet that she might as well not have been there. Their few exchanges always went something like this:

"Miss Becca?"

"What?"

"Who are the piratas?"

"Don't worry yourself."

"What do you think they're doing to the people they take with them?"

"I don't want to know. Stop asking questions, this is bad enough as it is."

Reyna stopped at that point, because Miss Becca never corrected her using Spanish and never gave her an answer with any substance.

The door clunked open once again, and Reyna saw the light of the torches through the metal bars draw closer and closer. There was a screech of a door opening and someone gave a short wail of fear. The door banged shut, but the pirata didn't bother to lock it. It was empty, then, Reyna decided. She had seen the cells empty gradually as the piratas selected from their inhabitants.

The other pirate stopped in front of her cell and looked at her and Miss Becca, leering. Please don't pick me, Reyna pleaded mentally. Please, please, please not me.

The pirata yanked the door open and lunged for Miss Becca, who went visibly pale, even in torch light. Reyna scooted back to the wooden wall as Miss Becca was hauled out of the cell. There was fear in her eyes and Reyna could see it without looking too deep. Miss Becca was very, very afraid, and she was struggling not to show it.

"Reyna! They're not piratas."

Reyna's head jerked upright at being addressed.

"They're pirates."

Reyna thought it was Miss Becca who spoke. It sounded like her voice, or at least a tight, terrified variation of it, but the woman the piratas—pirates— dragged from the room didn't look capable of speech.

It was two days later when they came for the last of them. Reyna was one of four girls left, and they dragged them all together from the cells. She caught quick glimpses of other decks as they marched her up a set of stairs, all dark, before they emerged above deck.

Reyna was blinded by the sudden light and screwed her eyes shut. Even through the lids it was too bright. Months spent in near total darkness had unnaturally dilated her irises. Now, exposed to light again with the sun at nearly high noon, they were being forced down to pinpricks. She could hear the laughter of pirates around her, jeering and unfriendly, the kind that came from an unruly crowd or band of drunks. She could almost taste the smell of salt, no longer mingled with more pungent odors. The sound of waves slapping against the hull was more pronounced.

When Reyna could bear it, she squinted at her feet, worried about what she'd see if she looked up. They were still barefoot and pale, paler than she'd ever been. She didn't like it; her skin was normally a warmer color. The boards of the deck were weather worn and salt washed. Raising her head just a little, she could see that she was standing at one end of the deck. The mainmast rose a dozen feet in front of her, boasting an unfurled white sail. A dozen pirates leered at her from beyond the mast, lounging around the deck but clearly interested in their prisoners. Several held dirty bottles. Most had knives, although only two had proper swords.

On the quarter deck, looking down on it all, stood the man who was clearly el capitán. It wasn't just that his beard was the longest, or that the most rings glinted off his fingers in the bright sun, or that he was dressed the best; it was the size of his hat. It was a proper pirate's hat, with a wide, folded up brim forked in the front. It was trimmed with gold and somehow managed to stay on his head, despite the winds of being under full sail.

The pirate who had manhandled Reyna up to the deck kicked her in the back of the legs, effectively causing her to fall over. The pirates jeered louder. Two of the other girls were forced to sit and their hands were tied behind their backs. Reyna wiggled her shoulders. It wasn't an especially binding bond. She could, with a little time, work her way out of it.

The one woman who wasn't forced to sit looked nervous. Reyna knew her; she worked one of the larger drink bars and had a limp in her right leg. Reyna had always wondered why Circe had never cured it. Now it was pronounced as the pirate who had lugged her up the stairs handed her a large, dull sword.

Were they so stupid as to give them weapons?
But the woman looked too terrified to use the sword effectively, and only looked at the pirate in askance. The pirate shoved her forward into the no-mans-land between the prisoners and the mast. She stood there looking like a deer in headlights, her delicate arms barely able to lift the weapon she'd been given.

Fight! Reyna wanted to yell. Charge! Attack!

But the woman stood there looking pretty and dumb.

One of the pirates with a sword advanced from the other side of the deck, and the woman shied away. The pirates let out another unruly cheer. Several took leisurely swigs from their bottles.

"Here's how this is going to work itself out."

The pirates fell silent at the captain spoke, his voice ringing out from the quarter deck, more commanding but no less rough.

"I have the little matter of keeping you all. Which is to say, I can't. There simply isn't enough on this ship to feed all of you pretty ladies. And as much as myself and some of my men would like to… entertain you all, you aren't worth what we'd be sacrificing. So here's my proposal." The captain paused. "We're only to keep the best of you all. The strongest. And you are the weakest of the crop, so you've got a lot to live up to."

Reyna had heard that all her life.

"You're going to fight my number one man. You won't beat him, I assure you, but depending on how long you can stand your ground, you might earn yourself a place on this ship. Begin."

The transition was so sudden Reyna almost didn't notice it. The woman with the limp was even slower than her. The pirate was much faster. In less than a second, he had crossed the ground between them and put his sword to the woman's throat.

The pirates howled with laughter and the captain gave a self-satisfied smile.

"Into the water with her!" He yelled, and the pirate with the sword grabbed the woman around the waist, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. She shrieked and struggled, but her had her. In two long strides, he crossed to the railing and threw the woman overboard unceremoniously.

The other two attendants screamed her name, but there was no answer audible over the laughter of the pirates. Another one of the women was dragged to her feet and pushed, sobbing, into the open space.

Reyna blocked out their fight. She was a daughter of the war goddess. She was good with weapons. All she needed was a plan, and she needed it fast.