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But he glared at me a moment longer, then turned away.
My stomach sank. It was never a good sign when a captor didn't care what you saw or did.
Concerned, I felt for my bindings … but my arms moved freely.
I looked down to find no ropes, no shackles, or even a collar holding me!
Someone had even placed a stuffed bag beneath my head as a makeshift pillow for me, and there was a blanket twisted around my hips.
What in the seven hells was she planning?
"How long until we arrive?" The familiar feminine voice put some instinctual part of me at ease, and I cringed, cursing myself for even momentarily being glad to hear that monster's voice.
"Just over an hour, my lady," replied a man.
I sat up and turned toward the back of the ship to see her.
Lady Frexin stood on the top deck, just a short ladder away, at the side of a collared mage who seemed to be manning the helm. She was clad in a deep red dress with her signature tiny hat and goggles perched atop her head, casually flipping through a stack of papers as though she hadn't just murdered dozens, maybe hundreds of people!
Betrayal burned like a pile of hot coals in my gut. I needed to look into her eyes and …
"She's awake, my lady," the helmsman said before returning his cold gaze to the front.
Frexin looked up from her documents, hat bobbing atop her head. "Kaiya?" her voice trembled as she took a step in my direction. "I'm so glad you're alright. For a bit there, I thought —"
She dared to pretend she cared? After everything she'd done?
My eyes burned. "I — I can't believe you lied to —"
But the smaller woman was already dashing down the ladder and running to me, ignoring my words entirely. Her stony eyes searched mine as she held out her arms, then pulled me into a tight hug.
"Thank the Gods!" she whispered. "Korym, the fool, almost killed you!"
I stood there woodenly as my mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. Did she not know what happened?! The lives lost because of her actions? Or did she just feel nothing?
Squeezing me once more, she finally stepped back, fingers gripping my arms tightly, as if she were afraid to let go.
She took in my face, grinning proudly. "And before you ask — yes, Mage Korym has been punished. I had him beaten, stabbed, and his throat slit. It doesn't make up for what he tried to do to you, of course — but it was the best I could do given the circumstances." She nodded toward the front of the ship … to where Korym sat glaring at us, his neck covered in red wet clothes.
My jaw dropped. What the hells?!
"Oh, he can't die," she continued in a stage-whisper. "I mean, that's the main reason why I keep him. And why he'll continue working for me, despite what he did to you. No use in throwing away a valuable tool, wouldn't you agree?"
My stomach lurched.
She spoke about him as if he were a hammer — not a manipulative homicidal maniac.
"There, there, dear. You look upset," she said. "Trust me, though. Over time, you'll come to appreciate what he contributes to our work."
Over time? OUR work?
Did she actually think I'd be complicit in her actions? That nothing had changed?
My brain struggled to comprehend what was happening as I stared at her, taking in the strange frenzy in her eyes and the almost giddy way she was speaking.
I'd expected her to lie or plead with me to understand, or even be cold and emotionless.
But this?
