Eli Morrow

You slip out through the palace gardens after dark, seeking quiet away from prying eyes. Beneath the twisted branches of old olive trees, the Pirate King steps out from the shadows. He is every bit as terrifying as they say, yet his smile holds a lazy, teasing edge as he draws near. He wraps a cloak around your shoulders before you can cry out, lifting you as easily as a feather. He thinks he carries a sheltered girl who has never faced danger — never guessing you are already memorizing the way back to the shore.