“The man you just saw traveled aboard one of the other ships.” I spin, flayed by Cainon’s cutthroat perusal. “He came down with the Blight two days ago. I couldn’t risk the spread.”
Another explosion erupts from the south, rippling across the waves, and I gape in wide-eyed horror as a second ship flares like a torch. Screams erupt, men caught in the clutches of billowing flames as they dive off the side—a charred feast for the waiting predators.
Couldn’t risk the spread ...
A dense, gray cloud muddies the sky and blots out the sun, and I blink, feeling Cainon’s perusal track the tear that darts down my cheek.
One by one, men fall to the flames or the sharks, their screams snipping out like blown candles. It’s only once I’ve watched the bubbling water swallow the vessel that I look to my promised.
Stab, pull.
Stab, pull.
His eyes are vacant as he drops a word on my chest that somehow weighs more than my heavy, aching soul …
“Sacrifices.”
Fuck.
Pulling the door shut, I glance at Iven approaching down the hallway, hand dragging along the gold-brushed handrail to steady him against the swell, the other balancing a gilded tray topped with a large cloche.
He tips his head when he draws close. “The meal you requested, High Master.”
I lift the lid, revealing a bowl of steamed trout in a milky broth, crusty bread, and a stumpy chalice of sea-greens. I break off a fleshy piece of citrus-and-salt-spiced fish that melts in my mouth, but it does nothing to make me feel even the least bit satisfied.
“Toss it to the gulls,” I mutter, stamping the cloche on the immaculate feast.
“All of it?”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
Iven’s round, ruddy cheeks lose their pallor, eyes darting to the door behind me and back again. “She’s ... not hungry, sire?”
“Apparently not. She also said she’d rather eat with the rats than share a meal with me right now,” I say through a stencil smile.
I stalk past, shoving through the door that leads to the upper deck.
The breeze attempts to corral me the moment I step outside—a sharp chill pushing from the North. It whines and whips at the loose sail as a heavy, gray cloud shoves in front of the sun, casting the scene in a solemn shroud to fit my fucking mood.
The air is charged, the swarming crew securing anything loose to the deck and preparing the ship for the worst. Something bumps against the side, and I scan the deluge of Bahari scraps littering the ocean.
I spot my quartermaster holding a spyglass to his eye as he inspects the roiling horizon.
“We need to leave,” I yell, charging forward. “Now. I don’t want to lose another ship to this shit show.”
“Agreed.” He slams the spyglass into its holster. “I’ll signal the others to raise sail.” Brow arched, he digs through his leather satchel and hands me a rusty key. “She settled in?”
Pocketing the key, I make for the bow, muttering a curt, “No.”
I retrieve the splinter from my pocket—the remaining sliver of wood from Captain Gunthar’s sunken ship—and pinch the sharp tip between my teeth. I blaze down three flights of stairs, then a glum, poky hallway that leads to the stowage. A kid no older than ten is crouched by the door at the end of the hall, peering through the keyhole.
“I’msurethis area’s out of bounds …”
He spins, cheeks reddening. “High Master. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Zane, is it?”
His eyes widen. “You know my name?”
