Jemsin leaned forward with both hands on the arms of his chair, about to push himself out of it. To Eris, he said, “Bring her back to the brig.”
“I don’t want her in the brig,” Eris said.
The captain paused.
“I want her in my quarters.”
Safire nearly choked. She turned, horrified and fists clenching. “I think I’d prefer the brig.”
A slow smile curled the captain’s lips. But Eris’s expression remained neutral.
The captain looked back and forth between them. “Are you sure about this?”
“Trust me,” said Eris, her voice quiet. “I can handle her.”
Nine
Strong hands plunged Safire’s head beneath the icy water of the barrel and held it there. Her fingers gripped the rim, struggling against the strength of those hands. Fighting to lift her head above the surface.
Her lungs were on fire. She was drowning. She needed air.
And then, just like all the times before, her torturers let her up.
Safire gasped, gulping in air, her chest heaving as she clung to the side of the barrel, her wet hair plastered to her face.
Eris paced back and forth in front of her, footsteps agitated.
One of the two men who held Safire in place asked, “Again?”
Eris stopped, staring down at Safire. “I don’t know. Are you ready to tell us where your cousin is?”
Looking out of the porthole, Safire could see the sky growing red.
Sunset.
Safire would never tell them where Asha was. But thethought of going underwater again filled her with dread. And if she didn’t give Eris the information she wanted, Eris would hand her over to Jemsin, who would simply kill her.
She needed to buy herself enough time to escape and warn Asha.
“Send them out,” said Safire, her breathing ragged as she looked to the two brutes on either side of her. “And I’ll discuss terms.”
Eris arched a brow. “Terms? You think this is a negotiation?”
Remembering the conversation she’d overheard in the Thirsty Craw, Safire didn’t back down. “I think you’re more desperate than you let on.”
Eris’s eyes flashed. She stared down Safire for a long moment, as if deciding her next move, then looked to the pirates holding her captive. “Lock her up. Then leave us.”
The brutes secured Safire’s wrists in cold shackles attached to an iron ring in the ceiling. When the lock clicked, Safire found the chains weren’t long enough to drop her arms. She tugged, but her wrists could only come down as far as her temples.
Eris waved the men off, sending them out of the room. When the door shut and they were alone, Safire said, “You’re despicable.”
Eris walked over to a large table where a map lay unrolled. Reaching for the pack of matches resting next to an unlit lamp, she said, “The feeling’s mutual, princess.”
Safire gritted her teeth. “Stop calling me that.”
Eris removed the glass chimney of the oil lamp, then turned the thumb wheel to raise the wick. “You’d prefer I call youcommandant?” She struck the match, lit the wick, then adjusted the flame. After blowing out the match, Eris replaced the glass chimney and turned to Safire. The golden glow illuminated her face as she spoke. “Tell me, then,commandant: Do you enjoy making people do what you want? Does it please you when they unthinkingly follow your orders?”
Giving orders was not Safire’s job. Her job was keeping the king and queen safe. Keeping Firgaard—her home—safe. And looking out for every single soldat under her care.
