Pirate Princess

The last day Ching lived on land, she sat waiting in the palace. Her father, the commander of the Imperial Navy, was meeting with the new emperor.

The guards were still and stern. They used to be friendly to her. But lately, they had only ignored her. The new emperor did not like Ching’s father.

Ching’s father flung open the chamber doors. He was heavy, but he moved fast. He nearly made it to the palace door before Ching got up.

“Come,” he said to his daughter. The light from the open entrance shined on him, brightening the dark palace. “We are free. It’s time we sailed.”

From then on, Ching lived on her father’s ship. They weren’t in the navy anymore—they were pirates.

Everyone on the ship had to work, even young Ching. She swept the decks, coiled thick, wet ropes, and during raids, she sharpened swords while hiding in the hold.

The other sailors weren’t normal pirates. They had been her father’s elite officers. Instead of going wild or rejecting orders, they stayed disciplined and fought hard.

The men were skeptical about having a teenage girl on board. They thought she was a burden. They called her “pirate princess” as a joke.