This is all wrong. She still isn't certain what the Frenchwoman is playing at, but it's all just – wrong.

Adrienne is nothing if not accommodating, but any modesty she offers is falser than even Emily's usual, and smiles when she gives them are – disturbing. That's the best Emily can come up with to describe them. Not forced, but cold and unnerving. Emily follows her around, watching her close for some days, trying to figure the Frenchwoman out, but this only serves to leave Emily feeling worse. Adrienne really knows what she's doing. And it doesn't help that for the first time since she'd made friends with the older woman, Jo doesn't have Emily's back. In fact, she's turned a cold shoulder to Emily in a way that isn't like Jo at all. And what's even worse, the rest of the crew is hovering on the border of outright hostile.

But Adrienne never once gives any hint of being threatening. Though, really, she doesn't need to. The rest of the ship does that for her, all too well.

Emily worries, at intervals, that even her brother is in on – whatever is going on, but then he comes one night and asks her to sing to him. The way he curls into her and looks worried and asks to sleep in her cabin with her suggests he knows something's not right, which means any odd behavior on his end could just equate to worry. She doesn't know this for certain, but the thought eases her worries at least a little.

"Riley." She murmurs one evening, curled up in the window seat with him. "Riley, tell me…"

He waits a moment, then runs a hand through her brunette waves. "What is it?"

She thinks about turning to face him proper for this, but doesn't have the guts. "You told me, some nights ago… you said you hate me."

He tenses. She's startled him a little. A brief moment and he relaxes again, continues playing with her hair. "Sometimes…I think I do." He replies, and she's not sure whether to be thankful for his usual honesty. "In a way, at least, but that's not what you're worried about, so I'll tell you what you want to hear. You are my captain. Long as I'm on this ship, I'll be loyal to you."

"You loved me, once." She counters, airy. "Suppose… I ruined it. I'm good at that. Ruining things. Maybe…"

"I'm not sure what this is we have now, and I'm not going to talk about that." He doesn't sound angry. Just a little wary, maybe. "But I'm yours. I promise, I'm yours in whatever way you need me to be."

"Need you." She wants to be indignant, because needing sounds – she doesn't like needing. "I didn't say I needed anything." But there's no venom behind the words.

He sighs, presses a kiss into her hair. "Alright. I'm here, anyway." A bit of anger does seep into his voice now. "Have I given you reason to doubt me?"

She pauses, turns to him, the panic that wells up irrational but she can't help it. She can't. She can't have him angry at her. Not when she doesn't even have Jo. "No – Riley – I didn't – it's just, she's got everyone… I'm getting paranoid." She runs a shaky hand through her hair. "Please. It's not - not you."

He softens again in an instant, pulling her close and shushing her. "Gods above." He breathes, and it amuses her, usually, the things he's picked up from her. Looks. Tones of voice. Phrases. "I've… I've seen you hurt and drunk and outraged and I've even seen you go so cold I wasn't sure it was the same woman I was standing beside, but never in the year I've known you have I seen you…"

"What?" She asks, half burying her face into his shirt.

"Frightened. I've never seen you look so afraid." He pushes her away gently to look at her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I've been wondering why you haven't done or said anything, tried to fight back. I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

She clutches at his shirt, and shakes her head slow. "Afraid." Her brows furrow. Afraid. Peg Leg Turner doesn't do afraid. She shoots to her feet and begins pacing. "You're right. I should've done something by now, I should've… but I just don't understand. Why did they all suddenly decide… It's her." She stops abruptly, comes to a halt standing just before Riley. "It's her. I don't know how, but it's all her doing and it's got something to do with that necklace, I know it does."

"The bit of gold around her neck?" Riley looks confused. "I know it must've had something to do with you losing that silly fight, but beyond that…"

"No. I may not know what it does, but it's done something to them all, even Jo. I mean, what did I do? Tell me, Riley, what could I possibly have done to have her being so cold to me?"

"I don't know. I don't know any more than you. But if you're right, how come Joshy and I haven't been effected?"

"Well, I don't know about Joshy. I don't even know for certain he isn't affected, but you – I put you under that spell. Maybe you've got a tolerance for magic now. Maybe my goddess gave you a resistance to it, I don't know." A pause as she comes to sit on the window seat again, thinking. "You came to get me. I sent that letter out and you came straight away, to Port Royal of all places, so there wasn't anything wrong before then."

Riley shakes his head, confirming. "No, not that I knew of. In fact, we were all more than a little relieved to know you were alright."

"So it's got to be Adrienne, that slimy, two-faced…" Emily shoots to her feet again, this time stalking straight across her cabin and out the door.

"Wait – Peg!" Riley jogs after her. "Where are you going?"

"She promised me answers. That was the deal. I let her have my ship without a fuss and in return she gives me answers and I don't know what possessed me to actually do it, not that it would've mattered I suspect, but I haven't even got my answers and I'm done." She storms out above decks, stalks past with such an air about her that the few left to man the ship stay out of her way. She's headed down to the galley. That's where Adrienne will be, along with most of the men as its supper time, but Emily's had it already. Whatever else she may be, she is not a coward.

Riley stops her just before she slips back below decks, pulling her aside with force. "Going down there to confront her like this would be like – like poking a bee's nest. Do you want to be thrown in the brig? Or worse, what if she finds an island and maroons you?"

Emily shakes her head, frustrated. "Do you have a better idea? Because I don't. Not this time."

"I don't… I don't know. Look. I've – I've talked to Miss LaBelle." He doesn't call her captain. Emily is disproportionately relieved. "She doesn't seem totally unreasonable. The men are the ones who seem to have a real problem here, if you find a time to confront her privately, it's almost certain to end better for you."

Emily stares up at him. There's an idea. It's just – just hovering at the edges of her mind, trying to form. "Hold on." She holds up a hand, rakes the other through her hair. "Just – you've talked to her. I've seen you two, that's why I asked about you earlier, I was worried…" Oh. She brings a hand up and literally hits her own forehead. Stupid, stupid Peg. Stop worrying and start doing what you do best.

Riley backs up a bit, giving her space, looking at her like she's perfectly daft, but she gets that often enough of late that she's not much bothered by it. Daft like her Uncle Jack. Thinking like him comes so natural to her now it's…worrying, actually, because when did that happen? But oh, there's no time for that.

Adrienne likes Riley. Adrienne takes an interest in whatever Emily has, it's starting to seem like, so Riley would seem quite the prize if the whole crew really does know all about him and Emily. "Oh, that's brilliant." Riley snorts, looking skeptical. "No." She swaggers forward, pulls him down for a saucy kiss. "Really. I am brilliant."

"You're mad."

"One is easily mistaken for the other, just ask my Uncle." She waves him off. "Now listen. Remember in the beginning, when you were still busy being Andrews' little dog."

"Oi!"

She ignores him. "And he wanted you to get to me. He wanted you to pretend to be my friend thinking then I'd let you go, and I was working the same angle from the other side."

"Yes, I should think I remember all too well." He's miffed now. "What's that got to do with – anything?"

"Oh, just think Riley." She clutches his shoulders. "Adrienne likes you. I need to know what's going on here, she's the only one with answers to that. The rest of the crew has decided I'm no good as a captain, why shouldn't you be right there with them?"

Realization dawns on his face, though slowly. "Oh." He says after a moment. "You want me to… to try and get close to her?"

"I want you to…" Emily glances around, getting nervous that someone may be around to hear. She lowers her voice. "I want you to play her like a fiddle. You did it with Andrews and me for a while there, I know you could."

"I'm not you." He hisses back, shaking his head.

"But you know how I think."

"Well, maybe a little better than anyone else by now, sure, but…"

"I'm sorry." She cups his cheek. "I am. But I need you, Riley. I need you to try."

He takes a breath, in, and then back out. "Alright. Alright, fine. How do you propose I get started?"

Voices sound from below decks, a few men coming up from the galley. Emily sends Riley an apologetic look before bringing up a hand, hauling back, and slapping him as hard as she can just as the men come around the corner. They all stop short. She keeps her focus on Riley, pointing at him as he rubs at his cheek and stares at her with genuine shock. "How dare you!" She says, too loud, words slurred as she sways in place. "After I've taken such good care of you!"

Impressively, Riley doesn't miss a beat. "Of late? All you do is complain and drink." He pauses, glances over at the men, who are watching carefully now, seeing what he'll do. He clears his throat. "Best head on back to your cabin now, love. You've embarrassed yourself enough for one night, don't you think?"

She whirls around and glowers at the men gathered. They watch her, somewhat wary, mostly amused. How easily they forget who she is and what she can do. "What?" She snaps and stalks past them, unsteady.

'Pathetic, eh?' She hears Riley as she goes, and pauses just out of sight of the men. 'Wonder why Captain LaBelle hasn't locked her up already.'

There's a bit of a pause, and then one of the men answers. 'We was just wonderin' the same thing, matter of fact.'

Letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, Emily keeps up her end of the façade as she stalks back to her cabin.

Riley hates her sometimes, bossy little wench that she is. He hates that she's so controlling and he hates that he's so easily controlled and he hates… he hates that the things he hates about her are also the things that he loves. By the old gods, he's making himself dizzy.

He scowls at himself. They spend too much time together. He's starting to sound like her.

But then, maybe this is a good thing. He needs to think like her if he's going to pull this off. He doesn't see what Emily does, looking at Captain LaBelle. The Frenchwoman is indeed pretty, and has been sweet and almost flirtatious with him since the moment they'd first talked. Then again, maybe that just proves Emily's point. What would Captain LaBelle want with him otherwise?

"Riley?"

He pauses just as he's about to slip below decks. "Miss Gibbs?" Everyone else calls her Jo. Why he still can't bring himself to is anyone's guess. Thankfully, she's never bothered to question it.

She appears to have just come down from being up at the helm. She hesitates as she approaches him, hands coming up to plant themselves on her hips. "Are you going down to see…?" She trails off with a bit of a sigh.

Emily's convinced the older woman is as much against her as the rest of the crew now is. Riley isn't, but has to play his cards right. "Peg?" He finishes for her. "No. Actually, it was Captain LaBelle who wanted to see me."

Miss Gibbs nods, but looks troubled. "How is…" She trails off, starts over. "It's just, I heard Peg n' you had a…" She huffs. "Oh! This is idiotic!"

Riley blinks at her, a bit bewildered. "She's – fine, more or less, if that's what you're trying to get at."

"More or less?"

"Well, at least as fine as can be expected, anyway, I'm sorry, I'm – confused. I thought you'd joined the rest of the crew in opinion on her?"

"She's threatened to keelhaul me, I suppose I ought to have, but…" Miss Gibbs scowls, frustrated. "I do agree with the crew some, but I couldn't wish her any harm if I tried. She's locked herself up tight in her cabin down there, and now I heard the two've you had a row last night, and apparently she was…"

"Drunk." That seems to be a common theme here. If Captain LaBelle really is behind all this, she's picked a most brilliant angle for it. Emily set herself up in the weeks after Sparrow left, made it all too easy for Captain LaBelle to just roll with it now. The most ironic thing about it? Emily hasn't had a drop of rum since the night she'd lost the duel to the Frenchwoman, at least not that Riley knows of. But, then, he's supposed to be playing into it all now, isn't he? "Aye, she was. Not sure what the crews so worried about with her, if I'm honest. Keep her well supplied with drink and she'll be both useless and harmless. Relatively."

Miss Gibbs' brows furrow, and she looks as though she can't decide between worry and angry annoyance. "Oh! This is idiotic! But fine. If she's just going to give up like that, let her."

But wait. Emily's memories. This is all one big puzzle they've stumbled into and he's sure not a few of the pieces lie with Emily's missing memories. If there really could be a magical remedy to this… think like Emily, think like Emily… "I will say this, though; these missing memories of hers have left her an awful mess. She's woke up not a few nights now with her head pounding something terrible, scrambling to tell me what she'd remembered in her dreams before she loses it all again." This is news to Miss Gibbs. He sees the surprise and fresh worry all over her face. It's enough even for her to gloss straight over his very open admission of sharing Emily's bed. He goes on. "If I were to take pity on her for any reason, it'd be that." He shrugs. "But that's just me."

Miss Gibbs brings a hand up to bury it in her raven curls as she mutters. "Wish she'd bothered to tell me that. I know she hates magic, but the remedies for these things aren't over complicated…" She glances up at him. "I'll have a look at my books n' come see her tonight, could you…"

"I'll tell her." He says, too quick and eager. He clears his throat. "Not sure she'll be too eager to see you," he adds, more subdued, "but I'll see if I can't get her at least halfway decent and up for it by tonight."

Miss Gibbs doesn't notice anything off. On the contrary, she's already wandering off in the direction of her own cabin, absent-minded.

And Riley now has an excuse to pay Emily a visit after talking with Captain LaBelle. Maybe he really can pull all of this off.

That necklace. It sends a chill down his spine. It's just him and Captain LaBelle in the small extra cabin Emily had made up for her, and that medallion is glowing a bright shade of red. Captain LaBelle doesn't seem to notice, which is good. Riley's seen it glow like that on and off quite often, but never so bright as it started to the moment he appeared in the doorway. It must be because of him; as if it has a mind of its own and is trying extra hard to work on Riley because it's not, in fact, working on him at all.

But he still can't be sure of what it does, so pretending he's affected by it will be hit or miss. Cue the sudden panic. Emily, Emily, think like Emily. He takes a breath.

"You…wanted to see me, Captain?" He asks, respectful, hands clasped behind his back.

Deep blue eyes settle on him as a flirtatious smile settles on her lips – though, all Riley can think is that said lips aren't as plump as Emily's. They don't look near as kissable. "Ah, oui! Come in, se il vous plait." He does, tentative. She eyes him up. "I have been told some interesting things about you."

He raises his eyebrows. "I dread to think what they might be."

She chuckles, soft and feminine, but the sound holds no warmth. "I can assure you, the only things I care about have nothing to do with your," she pauses as though trying to settle on the right wording, "affairs involving – what is it she insists on being called now?"

"Peg."

"Peg. I am more interested in… well, pardonnez-moi." She waves herself off. "It is easier to be plain. I am told you should have more reason than most to be displeased with her. Something about a friend of yours, hanging from the mast of this very ship? And a very interesting tale that involved you being put under some sort of spell, but of this one I choose to be a little more skeptical."

He hardens himself. "And why would you be interested in any of that?"

She studies him. He doesn't like it. "Because if what I have been told is true, then you may wish to hear what it is I am planning." A pause, and she looks curious now. "Is it true, then? Did she cast some sort of spell over you?"

He thinks a moment. How to play this? "At the risk of being bold, Captain, I'd like to hear what is you are planning first. If I'm to be forced to choose sides so firmly, I'd like for it to be an informed decision."

She looks amused now. Or, at least as genuinely amused as he's ever seen her. "Very well. Tell me, then. How much do you know of how things work for our kind?"

His brows furrow in minute confusion. "I'm not sure… I have heard Peg talk of the Pirate's Code before, if that's what you mean, but she hasn't seen fit to explain much."

"Mmm, well, I would be happy to remedy this, but for the moment that is not what I am referring to. My plan involves the Brethren Court."

"Now I'm afraid you've lost me." Really, she has.

She nods, her amusement becoming plainer, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Pardonnez-moi à nouveau. I do not intend to make fun. It is just that I was in your place not so long ago and it amazes me some, how times have already changed for me." She sits herself on the small bunk in the corner, draping one leg over the other in a manner that somehow manages to be at once over-feminine and very unladylike. "There are nine pirate lords, each with their own corner of the map to – well, perhaps 'rule over' is not the right phrasing, but there is power involved. Each is supposed to get a turn of the profits made from ships taken down in their territory, for instance. Now, some many years ago, there was something of a real war between the British Navy, a man named Cutler Beckett, and – well, at the time it was our parents. Cutler Beckett was in charge of the East India Company, and the threat he posed was not just to men sailing under a pirate flag here in the Caribbean, but all over the map. The court – the pirate lords – were called then, and decided to make a stand. Beckett's ship was obliterated, or so my father tells me, and the man himself along with it."

Riley takes a moment to process this. "Peg's mother had something to do with it all, right? Something about her being…"

"King." Captain LaBelle gives him. "And one of the nine lords to go with it, of course."

"King. The Pirate King." He's been bedding the Pirate King's daughter. Gods above, and that's added on to the terrifying things he already knew about the Dutchman's captain. He takes a breath. "And what does all this have to do with you? With any of us, now?"

"Much, I believe, starting with the fact my father too is a pirate lord." There's a different glint in Captain LaBelle's eyes. "But I think I should know better than to go further without first being assured that I have your attention. If it is true what I was told, the way Turner has played with you, the fact she killed your friend…"

"That was months ago now."

"But wounds inflicted by betrayal are not so easily healed."

"You talk like one who knows."

A pause, and her eyes soften, just the tiniest fraction. "Trust when I say that I do."

Riley brings up a hand to run it through his ginger curls – a habit he'd picked up from Emily, probably. "You mean to ruin her, then, truly. You're offering me revenge." It's not a question. He's pieced this much together.

Captain LaBelle smiles now, dark and cold. "Smart men are hard to come by, to spite what those of them in charge would have you think. A pity she doesn't see you for the treasure you are. So. Do I have your attention, or not?"

His stomach lurches. Think like Emily. He forces himself to nod, slow, his eyes hard. "Yes, Captain. You have my attention. Indeed, you have my curiosity. None of what you've just explained seems to have any bearing on why you'd want control over this ship when Peg had already agreed to help you. Which isn't to say, mind you, that I'm not aware she had an ulterior motive for doing so."

"Well, if I am honest, my reasoning is as flighty as I'm sure hers tends to be. You see, as I understand it, the way a pirate is made one of the nine lords is by the title being passed down from whoever had it to begin with."

That's not too hard to piece together either. "And you're hoping your father will choose you."

"I plan to ensure he has reason to. If I can take this ship and reclaim my own along with the treasure this island is rumored to house…"

"Two ships, both with crews firmly under your command, and pails full of priceless gems. Would make you look very good by anyone's standards." He concedes, and then has to suppress a laugh as he realizes… "So, then, am I to understand you're taking over the Queen is – is just a whim? Done simply to see if you could?"

Captain LaBelle chuckles, her blue eyes warming a fraction with amusement again. "Oui." She brings a hand up to play with her necklace. "I suppose that is just what it is."

Riley watches her slender fingers run circles over the medallion, and debates with himself. Can he get away with asking about it? Perhaps if he angles it just right… "That necklace, it's familiar. I think I've seen the symbol, in one of Peg's books."

Her brows raise in minute surprise as she lifts the medallion as though to inspect it a bit herself. "It would not surprise me. It is Greek, the symbol of a war goddess." A pause, and those sharp, cold blue eyes dart back up to meet his. "And, as I know you have noticed, blessed by her as well." He opens his mouth, thinking to backpedal a little, but she holds up a hand to stop him short. "Calmez-vous, ma chérie. That is why I asked about this friend of yours she killed. My necklace has no effect on you, I can see, but when I heard of what she had done I had thought you and I could come to an understanding none the less."

Riley forces himself to relax, nodding. He wants to know more about the necklace now, even more than he did before, but decides not to push it. "I'm glad. It seems we understand each other just fine, Captain."

She smiles and stands. "Good! Now, come. I believe it is time for lunch, why don't you bring something down to Turner in her cabin? Seeing as everyone knows she is now all but refusing to leave it."

"You want me to spend time with her? We aren't on the best of terms any longer, as I'm sure you know by now."

Captain LaBelle nods. "I had heard. But I want her kept happy for now and would owe you greatly if you could keep her that way. Do you think you can do this?"

Well. Funny old world, isn't it? Riley nods amiably. "Aye, Captain. Knowing what you are planning, I'll do it with pleasure."

"You mean to tell me – all of that and you didn't even find out what the necklace does?" Emily grumbles, irritable, as he finishes telling her what Captain LaBelle had said.

Riley huffs. "All of that and I found out she knows very well that whatever the necklace does, it does not work on me. I decided I was better off leaving it alone for now."

"Well that – makes the rest of it just maddeningly unhelpful. Now I know what's in her head, but I still don't have a clue how to stop this madness."

"Mmm, well, as it turns out, I had a conversation with Miss Gibbs earlier as well." He strolls across the room to make himself comfortable in the window seat. "This time I'm the brilliant one."

She eyes him from her position at her desk, where she's been picking at the food he'd brought her – and, he notes, studiously ignoring the rum he'd snuck as well. "What did she have to say, then?"

"Aside from confirming that she believes just what the rest of the crew does, and informing me that she's worried about you more than anything else?" He tosses out airily. "I may have mentioned the dreams you've had, about you're missing memories. She's coming down to help this evening."

"She is?" Emily replies, eyes lighting up in pleasant surprise for a moment, and then her brows furrow. "Help. You mean help as in the magic variety of help. I'm still not so sure I want that kind of help."

Riley rolls his eyes, annoyed now. "Well, that kind of help maybe the only kind of help that actually gets us anywhere, so I suppose you'll have to get over it."

She glares at him now, eyes narrowed in an expression he finds more adorable than threatening. "Mouthy, cheeky bilge rat." She grumbles.

He shrugs, smug. "You're not captain, I can say whatever I please now."

"Oh, but one of these days…"

He sighs, shaking his head and trying not to be as amused as he is. "Anyway. We don't know what exactly the necklace does, but I think it's safe to say it really is messing with everyone's heads. I think what's going on is that it's different with Miss Gibbs. She's close to you in a different way than the rest of the crew. Just because she believes the lies doesn't mean she's all ready to throw you to the wolves."

"Which is something, I guess, but that may just mean the two of you plus Joshy'll go down with me if…" She trails off, shaking her head as she slumps back in her chair. All is silent for a moment; neither of them wants to think of the actual worst that could happen here. She snatches a mug of rum off her desk as though contemplating… "Funny, isn't it? Adrienne's all but managed to base an entire mutiny on me being the youngest drunk you've probably ever met, and I haven't had a drop of anything but water in days."

"It's just solid proof that it's all lies, complete lies." He offers in response.

She sighs, sounding tired. "Is it? All lies? The ideas had to come from somewhere." A pause, and she stares down into the mug. "There's a reason Alex left, after all."

"Sparrow left because he didn't see you for the treasure you are." He replies, vehement enough that her eyes dart up to meet his. "Running off with another woman like he did. That's how it will always be for him. He'll never be satisfied, that's not your fault."

She shakes her head and looks away again. "You're still too good to me." She drinks from the mug.

She's probably right, if he's honest. He leaves her to her thoughts.

She really is a little drunk by the time the sun starts to setting. She'd promised herself she'd be better than that from now on, but had given up just for tonight. If she has to deal with magic, she has no interest in doing it sober. Besides, at this point, Jo's probably expecting it of her.

She's curled up in the usual way in the window seat. The small brown tabby that had made the Queen its home, some months ago now, is curled up comfortable in her lap. It's been hiding out in the captain's cabin for the past several days, leading Emily to wonder if the sweet though mangy little animal can sense something's not right too.

The cat perks up as there's a knock at the door, anxious, but Emily knows there's only three people that would come down to see her. "Jo?"

There's an odd pause, causing Emily to wonder if it really is Jo. But then the door opens, and hazel eyes land on her – guarded and subdued. "Could I come in?"

The cat lets out a strange sort of growl, and Emily glances down at her, blank. "Erm," she strokes the cat's fur, trying to soothe her, "yes, of course, come in Jo."

The older woman casts a wary glance at the feline as well as she crosses the room slow. She's got one of her old spell tomes in her arms; she sets it down on the desk and hesitates as she eyes Emily up. "Riley – he told me about the dreams you've been having, your memories."

"I know." Emily glares at the spell book, but sighs in resignation.

"Well?" Jo asks, careful. "Would you be too terribly opposed to me at least trying something simple?"

"Wouldn't've told you to come in if I were."

The older woman's got just the hint of a scowl on her face, but at what Emily's not sure. The cat, maybe, glaring up at her? Or Emily's tone of voice, sassier even than her usual? Or maybe the slight slur to Emily's words. Whatever the case, the tension is so thick she could cut it with a knife, and it annoys her. "Goddess, Jo. What's the matter with you? You knocked, for pity's sake!"

There's another pause, hazel eyes soften just a fraction. "I wasn't sure, after what you said the other night…"

"Since when does anyone take half of what I come out with when angry that serious?"

"Since you then decided to give Riley a good bruise on his cheek and lock yourself up down here as if you've already…"

"Already lost? Not sure I haven't, s'hard to fight a battle you didn't realize was happening until there was a sword at your throat."

Jo plants her hands on her hips, expression going thunderous. "If could you be bothered to…" The older woman cuts herself off, abrupt, when the cat lets out another strange growl that trails off to a hiss.

Emily blinks down at her. "S'the matter with you?" She grumbles, rubbing the cats ears, but this does little to soothe her this time. When Jo makes a move to back away a bit, the cat just hisses again, then jumps out of Emily's lap to shoot across her cabin, hiding in a corner.

"Gah!" Jo jumps back and glares after the little ball of fur. "Temperamental little rat! Never was fond of cats."

"Oi!" Emily scolds, defensive of her little pet. "She's not so bad usually, I can't imagine what's got into her." She sits up. "Anyway, let's just get all this over with."

Jo nods and comes to sit next to her. "I'll try something simple to start. We've no idea how you lost your memory to begin with, so this may not work, but it'll be the least painful. Should be, anyway."

"Should?"

"Can I try it or not?"

Emily decides she's definitely glad of the rum, after all, though she still feels decidedly too sober for all this sort of – stuff. Especially thinking of what might be revealed should it work. "Aye, might as well."

Jo's hands charge with magic as she murmurs a soft chant, a spell of some kind. Bringing up two fingers, now glowing with a bluish light, she touches them to Emily's temple…

…pain. So intense, her vision blurs and her stomach turns violently and her mouth opens but no sound comes out. She falls off the window seat, doubled over, clutching her head and trying to breathe and goddess, she's never felt anything like this before, like someone is trying to claw out her eyes, and her brains been stuck with a thousand needles all at once and is now attempting to explode. Breathe, in, out, in, out… She literally has no room to focus on anything else.

She has no idea how long it lasts. It could be an hour she's curled up like this for all she honestly knows. When the pain finally recedes, it does so maddening slow, so coherent thought doesn't return to her for another several minutes even. When it does, her first thought is of Jo. It's been at least several minutes, so…why is the older woman not hovering over Emily, like she always does when Emily's hurt.

"Jo." She croaks out, staggering to her feet – the room spins, and she braces herself against the wall as she surveys her cabin. It's a mess. The odds and ends that were cluttering her desk are now scattered about the floor, as are the cushions from the window seat. The cat has set herself up on the desk at some point, and is staring at Emily with its head tilted in a way that could convey worry – if a cat would know enough to be worried. Emily blinks at her before glancing out across the shadowed end of the room, where the light from the lamp on the wall doesn't reach as well… "Jo!" She lurches forward. The older woman is laid out on the floor, unmoving, breathing shallow.

And this is just about when Joshy peers into the room. Yep, that sounds about her luck of late. "Emmy?" He sounds sheepish. "I…I had a nightmare –"

"Joshy, wait…" She slurs, voice barely carrying across the room, and oh it's still spinning and the pain still hasn't full gone away, her voice sounds too loud to her own ears.

It's too late. Her brother's pushed the door open further, brows furrowed as he takes in the mess – and then eyes widening as they land on Jo. "What…" He takes in Emily, on her knees next to the older woman. "Emmy – you're hands."

Feeling a little dazed, she trails her eyes down to stare at her hands. They're glowing bright with magic. Her control is better than that. A visible amount of magic couldn't have built up without her thinking about it, doing it with purpose. It couldn't.

What's going on?

"Emmy." Her brother murmurs again, and he hasn't crossed the room, is keeping his distance. His green eyes are turning harder, wary. "What did you do?"

"What did I…?" Her brows furrow as she closes her eyes and tries to think. "I didn't – Jo was…"

"She's – she's so pale. Did you fight again, I don't understand." There's panic behind his eyes now. "What did you do?" Demanding now.

Emily lurches back to her feet, reaching for him. "Joshy. Please." She falls back to her knees before him. "I don't know what's – this wasn't me, I didn't do this! How could you think…"

He flinches. "Emmy – I smell – are you drunk?" He looks down, startled now. "Your hands – you're hurting me!" He pulls away. Not just pulls out of her arms, but backs up several steps until he hits the wall. Before she can say or do anything else, he spins around and darts out of the room faster than a frightened mouse.

Her hands are shaking as she looks back down at them. She has to do something with all that power. Working her way back over to Jo, she closes her eyes and sets her hands to hovering over the older woman. Heal she thinks with as much concentration as she can work up, and all the power spills out easy and into Jo. It's enough that the stream of it just keeps coming. Its use seems to help Emily too somehow, and the pain in her head finally becomes bearable and she realizes…

Jo's not waking. She hasn't moved a muscle.

Footsteps sound out, pounding across the deck, down the corridor to her cabin. Emily stops trying to heal Jo, knowing how it will look, and collapses back, feeling drained. Several men appear, all members of the Queen's crew save for Adrienne's first mate. He's pointing a pistol at her, looking wary. She's too exhausted and bewildered by now to argue it. And then the woman herself pushes past them all. Adrienne had either been in bed or readying for it, as she's wearing only her trousers, boots, and untucked shirt. She takes in the scene, eyes sweeping slowly around Emily's cabin, taking in Jo's too-still form. Finally, they land on Emily, hard and cold as ever.

Emily runs a hand through hair. "I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to let me explain?" There's supposed to be some kind of sass behind the words, but they come out flat.

Adrienne shakes her head, grave, as Joshy appears at her side looking fretful. Adrienne glances at him, eyes softening just a fraction. Riley comes up on her other side, and sharp green eyes take in the scene. He says nothing.

Emily knows what's coming next. "Please." She pleads with Adrienne anyway. "In- in front of my brother? Let me explain."

The Frenchwoman hesitates, but the men at her back bristle in response to Emily's plea. Their new Captain holds up a hand, stilling them, but it's plain what's happening – there's only one way this can go, whether it had been in Adrienne's original plan or not.

"Take the boy." She says, glancing at Riley.

He meets Emily's eyes for a brief moment, then does as he's told. Joshy doesn't do much in the way of protest.

Emily gets to her feet and reaches for her sword – to do what? She doesn't know. She's still dizzy and her hands are shaking, and there's no way she could win this besides. Still, she holds it out as Adrienne comes forward, flanked by two of the largest men who had been Emily's.

"Come, now." The Frenchwoman says, soft. Emily scowls, glances at the hulking figures ready to grab her, and drops her sword without ceremony. Adrienne looks genuinely relieved. "We will talk. Tomorrow." She glances back at the men. "For tonight, to the brig."

:)

French:
Se il vous plait. – Please.
pardonnez-moi. – Forgive me.
Pardonnez-moi à nouveau. – Forgive me again.
Calmez-vous, ma chérie. – Calm yourself, darling.