I blinked, willing my fuzzy vision to sharpen. “You didn’tbuya new ship.”
He chuckled beside me.
Ignoring him, I focused on my surroundings. A fire warmed my feet, small by the sound of it. Water gurgled quietly in the background. Wind blew against the bare skin of my chin and throat—we were still along the canyon ridge, or near to it. Ilistened for the beating of other hearts nearby but only found the steady rhythm I recognized as Sero, his pulse slower and louder than a human heart.
Kriska adjusted his weight beside me, chewing on something. The thought of food made water gather in my mouth.
“Where’s Nikolaos?” I rasped.
“Dead.”
My stomach twisted. My lungs closed. Rage flooded my veins like a violent river, crashing through me with a force so overwhelming I was swept away before I could reach the surface for breath.
I might have clawed the ground to reach him. To rip out his throat, carve out his eyes. Hands bound, I could only thrust forward with a low snarl. He shoved me away with a boot to my ribs, leaving me to lay panting in the grass, the raw throb of pain lancing through my chest.
“If not yet, he will be soon,” Kriska said, his mouth full.
I swallowed, my tongue and throat dry and scorched. “I don’t trust a word you say.”
Kriska laughed. “Oh,malá ryba.I have missed you and your charismatic ways. No more talking.”
Cheek buried in the dry grass, I mulled over his deflection.
He hasn’t managed to capture Kye.
The thought sparked a breath of relief, even as heat threatened the corners of my eyes.
We’dalmostmade it to the mountains. To the safety of Calder. We’d come soclose.
The fire at my feet slowly died. I grew cold. Wind charged over me like a bull in a pasture, leaching into my clammy skin, stealing my heat until my body became wracked with shivers. My shoulders ached; my head pounded. The sun set. I didn’t sleep.
Morning brought chirping birds and filaments of light through the cloth wrapped around my eyes, though not enough for me to decide if my vision remained blurred. Kriska yanked me to my feet, his hand thrust around one bicep, and I cried out loud at the jarring pain in my tied wrists, still tied behind my back. My feet couldn’t seem to obey. Sluggish and numb, I stumbled into the pirate, my nose landing square into his chest. Kriska chuckled, petting my hair, his breath warm over my ear.
He mounted Sero, then dragged me up to sit in front of him. The position proved less painful than being tossed over Sero’s back, though Kriska’s arms wrapped around my stomach, my tied hands resting between his thighs, and I almost would have preferred the pain of riding face down astride his saddle again instead. I pressed my fingers hard against my back, desperate to avoid touching him.
Sero snorted at the burden of two bodies, but the pirate kicked and he responded, hooves tamping down over the soil. The wind whipped at my dress. I called and called for water.
How long had Selena said it would take for a Naiad to metabolize green shield weed? A few weeks? How long would it take to rid myself of the toxins that ash provided?
I couldn’t let myself think about it.
When Kriska came to a stop, I slid off Sero and into the dirt. My knees shook, but I caught myself before I fell. He dismounted beside me, pacing a few feet away and then back, exhaling with frustration. He guided me roughly to the ground with a palm to my shoulder—rockier than the last place he’d chosen, thick with trees and roots. Branches rustled overhead.
I listened to the sound of his lungs, steady as he stood above me, facing the direction we’d come, and wondered why he wasn’t making camp. What was he waiting for?
He smelled sour. Like fear—or some lesser version of it. Worry, perhaps.
The pirate captain was waiting for someone.
Kye?
He stood for what must have been an hour with me at his feet. Then, all of a sudden, he ripped the cloth off over my head. I glared up at him through the blinding sunlight and the riotous curtail of my own hair, static lifting the strands around my face.
The sun cast his eyes in shadow under his hat. Everything he wore was black, including the coarse fur sewn in patches over his shoulders. Clothes for climbing a mountain. Six knives tucked into the layers of his attire, though something told me there were more than that on his body. His beard hid the shape of his mouth, the lines of his face and body angular and hard, and he studied me with a look in his eyes I could only describe as calculated hatred.
No bow, no arrows. Whoever had shot at us must’ve stayed behind to fight Kye. The sound of metal clashing rang in my memory, and a familiar gnaw in my belly scraped at my insides.
“Did you know that I was promised enough gold for you,malá ryba, that I could retire?”he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he fidgeted with the handle of his rapier.
