The flame flashed, and heat seared her face. White-hot pain exploded down her neck. Jaya cried out, stumbling back, as a burn lacerated her skin in thick, heavy ropes.
“I DON’T KNOW.”
She felt her skin tightening, twisting, and she bit back a scream as her burns cooled. When it was done, she raised a trembling hand to her neck and found it smooth, unblemished.
“Well.” Samson winced as he pulled back the flame, but if he felt any remorse, she did not hear it. “I suppose your third will remain hidden forever, then.”
Jaya lowered her hand. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, and she rubbed them furiously, fighting to calm her trembling breath.
“You—you had no right to burn me,” she said.
Samson said nothing for a long moment. He stared at the red light of the comms line, and then, in a soft voice, said, “We are not friends, Jaya. You are here because I had no other option. You’d do well to remember that.”
He turned to go.
“But I am of worth to you,” she said, and he stopped.
She did not want to help him. Let Samson suffer. Let him waste. She regretted ever feeling pity for the Butcher, but Jaya thought of Div, lying in his metal coffin, breathing on borrowed breath, and she thought of the glorious, vicious justice she’d have watching the Butcher sail to his doom.
“You lost your men, but I still have my Sandsworn. You lost your queen, but I still have a battle strategy that will help us win despite that.You don’t get to walk away from me, Samson Kytuu, because we are notfriends. You stay, because you need me.” She flicked her stylus, opening the comms. “And because my operative Maya is already on theLord of Sea.”
Samson blanched, and Jaya felt a cold, petty vindication in seeing unease creep across his face.
“How—”
“We’ll be on them in half an hour. So brace yourself, Butcher. We have Jantari to hunt.”
CHAPTER 47
ELENA
Our bodies are maps of the divine that flows within us. Fear, then, the man who uses it against his friend. Pity, then, the man who uses it against himself.
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Elena tried to wrench off the ropes on her hands, but the more she resisted, the tighter they dug into her skin. They had tied her to one of the killdom’s long-range pulsers, her arms bent back and around the smooth neck of the cannon, her legs bound below. The mouth of the pulser vibrated slightly behind her back.
“Careful,” the captain called. “If you move more, you might set it off.”
Her chest tightened, panic limning her ribs. Kilith slammed his hand against the hull of the pulser, and Elena jumped. She could not see him, but she heard his laugh, somewhere below on her right.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had some fun.” Footsteps, drawing closer. A hand trailed up her leg, and Elena shuddered, whimpering as the head of the gun bit into her back. Kilith grinned from behind his visor.“Now, where to begin.”
“Kilith,” the captain called, “arm the pulser.”
Elena squirmed as his grin lengthened. “With pleasure, sir.”
His hand slipped down her calf, her ankle, sending goose bumps up her leg. Kilith spoke into his pod, ordering for the weapons to arm. The pulser turned, and Elena yelped as she swung with it. Her feet dangled over the waves. Along the horizon, she saw the black mists of the pit coiling like writhing snakes. She wondered if Samson and the others were still trapped in its depths. There was a shimmer in the air, as if the sky itself was vibrating. Or perhaps it was her. Elena did not realize she was shaking, only that she could not stop. The pulser swerved right, and she spun, back to the deck. Below, the captain chuckled. Maya stood beside him, her jaw tight, as the other Sesharians dared not look up.
“Please—”
The pulser jerked left, and she spun back out to sea. It swung again, and again, her body like a rag doll, lurching with the gun as it whipped back and forth, back and forth, the sea and the ship blurring into splotches of grey. Elena had no time to think. The wind roared in her ears, and she could hear their laughter rising. The pulser finally stopped and turned inward. Elena snapped her mouth shut, but her stomach twisted, and she vomited, dry heaves racking her body.
“Tell me. Aadya, is it? How long was your contract?”
Tears and snot ran down her cheeks. The world was still spinning, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Still, the low sun spiked off the Jantari metal, and she could feel its merciless glare sear through her eyelids.
“C-contract?” she whispered.
