I suspected the fishmen were shady. Knowing it for certain was a different beast entirely. My fingers found my dagger hilts, and for a hot second, I seriously considered hunting down Lakhmu and Captain Oannes and splitting their throats. But there was a whole crew of these bastards, and my people were asleep below deck, defenseless behind a door wedged shut with a spear.
Think, Ziara. Think.
“Thank you for your warning… uh… I’m sorry, I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
“Anunit,” she said with a slight bow.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ziara. Your English is very good.”
“Fire recognizes no boundaries. It respects no laws and belongs to no tongue.”
The smartass that lived inside me wanted to ask how she’d gotten herself locked up if she was so boundaryless, but the ship lurched.
Not the gentle rocking I’d grown accustomed to, but a violent pitch that slammed my shoulder into the wall. I caught myself before sustaining more damage than a bruise or two, but Anunit wasn’t so lucky. Her tiny frame flew through the air and slammed into the bars.
A wet, crackling sizzle reminded me of meat hitting a hot skillet.Then acrid, thick smoke curled off her skin where it pressed against the iron. The stench of burning flesh hit the back of my throat and nearly brought up my dinner.
A high, keening wail split the air before she clamped her jaw shut, strangling it into silence. The fiery muscles in her tiny neck corded. She wrenched herself free and crumpled to the floor of the cage, curling around the fresh burns. Wings that I hadn’t noticed before folded around her trembling form as she gripped copper handles bolted to the floor, bracing. Her flames guttered low, barely flickering, as if even her fire was trying to retreat from the pain.
Smoke hung in the cramped space, stinging my eyes.
With her light dimmed, I could clearly see her for the first time, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the marks on her body. Not just the fresh ones. All of them. Scars were layered across her arms, shoulders, and the ragged edges of her wings. Burns healed over burns healed over burns. Some had silvered with time, while others were still raw and weeping embers. Every single one was the exact width of the bars.
This wasn’t incidental. The cage had been built too small on purpose. Every swell, every wave, every gust of wind that rocked this ship drove her onto the bars. Over and over. For years.
The rage that flooded my veins was hot enough to rival her fire.
“They did this to you.”
Anunit’s blazing eyes lifted to mine, glassy with pain. She opened her mouth, but when nothing came out except a thin wisp of smoke, she simply nodded.
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. “You said there’s a curse keeping you from attacking them?”
One trembling hand rose, a finger pointing at the glowing runes etched into the iron bars. Her voice came out scorched and raw when she said, “The witch cast a spell on my cage, binding my fire to the ship. I cannot turn it against the crewor passengers, and I cannot break free.” She drew a shaking breath. “Believe me, I have tried.”
I studied the runes. They meant nothing to me, but I had yet to come across a lock I couldn’t pick.
“Why did they do this?” As soon as the words came out, I regretted them. What was I doing? Victim shaming? “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I meant that this is a lot of trouble to go through unless they were really pissed at you. Is there a reason for their torture? Or are these assholes just evil?”
“A bit of both.” She grimaced. “Oannes is my friend. I tried to warn him of their plotting.”
“Ah. You tried to prevent the coup.” I nodded. “Your loyalty to your friend is commendable.”
“He would have done the same for me.”
I studied the runes trapping her magic. When she’d said witch, I had instantly thought of Sereana. We were a long way from home, but Dad had gotten that conch shell somehow. Besides, now that I knew about the teleporting station, her involvement wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Still, the magic powering the runes didn’t feel like hers. It was just as dark and menacing, but… different.
“Did the witch who trapped Oannes power these runes?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. That was the mage with her.”
Did my aunt have friends? Accomplices? Fellow psychopaths? She seemed like a loner who was more likely to have minions whom she blackmailed or bullied into doing her bidding. Still, I wouldn’t put anything past her if it meant getting what she wanted. I probed the magic, curious. Thanks to her ministrations, I’d developed quite a tolerance to the press of magic over the years, and this spell felt weak.
“If I break this spell,” I said, “will you help my people escape the sons of Oannes?”
Her guttering flames flared. Not by much. Sheseemed too drained for much of a display, but that spark of hope was encouraging.
“Free me,” she said, “and I will burn a path through anyone who stands between your people and their safety.”
