The officer frowned. The captain yawned, waving his hand. “Let it go, Kilith.”
But this seemed to spur Kilith even more. He turned to the boy and, without warning, slapped him with his open hand.
The boy fell to his knees, gasping. The others froze. Kilith snarled and kicked the boy down. He was too slow to protect himself as the officer stomped on his hand. A wet, sickening crunch resounded through the deck. Without thinking, Elena threw herself onto the boy. Kilith’s boot rammed into her side, white spots bursting before her eyes as she gasped, short of breath.
“Fucking Sesharian scum,” Kilith spat.
“Enough, Kilith,” the captain said, sounding bored.
But Kilith raised his foot again, and Elena whipped around, half snarling, to catch his boot with her hand. It glanced off her fingers, knocking her chin.
Pain blazed down her jaw. She coughed, hacking out blood, as the officer sniffed. He kicked over her rag.
“Clean it up,” he said.
Elena did not know what possessed her then. Only that, as pain thundered through her skull, as the boy lay quivering on his side and Mayalooked down, her shoulders stiff with rage, some bitter fury snapped her up and she flung the rag at the officer.
It hit him on the side, smearing blood on his white uniform.
Everyone went still.
And then the captain began to laugh.
CHAPTER 46
JAYA
A short-lived game is the fault of only, and solely, the gamemaster. It is a reflection of poor planning, poor execution, and—most importantly—a weaker mind.
—fromThe Gamemaster Manual
Jaya slowly slackened her grip as the ship stilled. She glanced at the sensor boards. Their radars were still off, but their comms flared back. One by one, the alarms cut.
“Phoenix Above,” she whispered. “It’s gone.”
She rushed to the window. The storm had finally cleared, and the sea stretched around them, dark and opaque. She did not know how long they had been caught in it. Only that the waves had risen impossibly high to reveal a beast—an incongruous amalgamation of unnatural angles and sharp teeth. It had struck. And then she remembered a cold, strange feeling, like a wet blanket wrapped around her bare skin, pulling tight.
“What happened?” Rhumia croaked.
Her hair released from the floor, softened into locks. Jaya eyed theindentions she had made but decided against complaining.
“I’m not sure,” she said instead.
Daz rubbed his head, blinking blearily, but then he started. “Elena. Samson!”
He bolted outside. Jaya ran after him, Rhumia bringing up the rear. They found Samson standing at the bow. He did not turn at their approach.
He simply stood there, rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the sea as if it held all his secrets, all his guilt.
“She’s gone,” he said in a voice so bare, so empty, Jaya wondered how the wind had not taken him.
“Elena?” Daz prodded. He turned to the other Yumi. “Were any of you able to bring her inside?”
As Daz spoke to the Yumi, Jaya crept toward Samson. There was a dark bruise creeping underneath his hairline. His shoulders hunched forward as if he were tensing for an attack.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly to not spook him.
His eyes were vacant, forlorn. When he finally turned to her, Jaya saw that they were also wet, his cheeks already streaked with the passage of tears. How long had he been standing here, weeping?
