“That was thoughtful of her.”
“It was alsolucky,considering how hard it is to find. You’ll no longer be using it as a preventative measure,” he says, flexing his control and only succeeding in stapling nails into my nerves.
My upper lip peels back. “Clearly.”
I’m sick of these games. Sick of all these doors between us. I’m tired, frustrated, brimming with information that’s chafing my insides, and I’ve had enough.
He widens his stance, arms crossing over his chest as he takes me in with overt curiosity. “Have at it, Milaje.”
Iwillthen.
“Well ... for starters, were you just going to put this in The Safe and leave without telling me?” I bark, waving the precious brain-pressure-relieving bulb at him.
“No. I was going to knock, inform you there was something in there, andthenI was going to leave.” He shrugs, eyes like silver-barred prison cells. “I know it’s not ground down, but if you can make enough Exothryl to pop an army’s worth of hearts in one sitting, then I’m certain you can manage dealing withthat.” He stabs a hand in the direction of my caspun and boils my blood.
“You need a nap.”
His left brow jacks up. “Excuse me?”
“Youheard,” I mutter, casting my gaze out the window.
Naturally, all I get is a grunted response that lands like a slap to the face. A stretch of silence ensues, lasting long enough that I consider smashing my vial of blood on the floor just to rile him. But then the quiet is broken by a sigh so deep it sounds like a mountain’s rumble. “Ask your questions, Orlaith.”
I look back to see Rhordyn massaging the bridge of his nose again, as if my very presence is making him want to prong a finger through his sockets and gouge his own brain out.
Right now, the feeling’s mutual.
“Did you get the last badge?”
“Not yet,” he states, dropping his hand.
The answer bites into my chest so hard I swear it reveals a window to my hammering heart.
Notyet.
Meaning he’s either rethinking his response to Cainon’s proposal ... or he’s considering gaining his support byforce.
Both options grate me.
I don’t want to be tossed at Cainon like a sack of misshapen vegetables nobody wants to eat, and I don’t want Rhordyn and Zali to be forced to thin their resources in order to gain the key they need to sail The Shoaling Seas into Fryst.
There needs to be another option. Therehasto be another option.
“Well ... what are you going to do about it?”
Tell me no action needs to be taken. Tell me you found a hundred ships crammed in a random, long-forgotten cove somewhere and you no longer need Cainon’s help.
Rhordyn shrugs, the motion wary. “Anybody not with us is against us. Simple as that.”
My heart slams to a stop—partially with relief, mainly dread. Because it’s not simple.
Not at all.
It’s wasted lives. Wasted resources.
Another nail in my coffin.
“And you can’t just ...wait?Dig deeper bunkers?Batten down the hatche—”
