“He thinks the prisoner could prove useful,” Harfor says. She reaches into her beltbag and pulls out a key on a thin necklace. “For his chains. Guard him well. We don’t have time to linger here.”
“You’releaving? Already? You just got here.” I wrap my hand tight around the key.
“Dame,” the Governor says to Harfor, stepping forwards and wringing his hands. “We’ve prepared a meal for you and your officers. Humble fare, as we eat on these shores, but I—”
“No,” Harfor says, casually, without letting the man finish. The Governor looks like he just got slapped across the face.
I grab Harfor’s armored wrist right as she turns away. My sister-in-arms looks back at me, one eyebrow arched.
“When will the test be over? How much longer?” My throat feels tight, like I'm choking on my last hope.
“Cai.” She says my name in a heavy sigh.
“I need to know,” I beg. “Don't leave me here forever. And not withhim.”
She looks away, then back with an almost imperceptible shrug.
The wind blusters through the harbor, bringing the promised rain at long last. Droplets slash against my cheeks as the smaller ships rear up on dark swells. I can’t tell if there’s a tear falling from one of Harfor’s eyes or if it’s just a raindrop.
“I promise I won’t forget about you,” she tells me quietly. Harfor breaks her arm free and walks up the gangplank. Her sailors follow her, and a hollow opens in my chest, ripping through all the scar tissue of my exile.
I thought this was over, that I was finally going home. And instead, I’m still stuck here—only, my worst enemy is stuck here too. The hollow in my chest widens, and widens, until I’m surprised I don’t fall to pieces on the docks, a hand here, a leg there, my head rolling to the edge of the planks and splashing into the sea.
I want to wring the Witch King's neck. I want to claw him open with nothing but my hands and prove to everyone where my loyalties lie. This is his fault.Allof it. Every single terrible thing.
Rancor wakes up from her slumber as Harfor’s feet touch the deck. In the dark of the storm that’s arrived, the entire harbor glows blue with the crystal’s light. The Hellion turns, sails still bound tight. Then she surges forward toward the open sea, until the blue light glows in the distance but doesn’t bathe our shore, and we’re left in the dark and the rain.
The Governor shifts, then turns to look at me. His gaze needles my skin. The rain slicks down my hair and wind howls in my ear.
I’ve failed to escape this miserable shithole, and all the Governor’s false kindness has shattered back away.
“What was that?” The Governor snaps. “Is Caiteven, failed knight, mistress of this place? I think not.”
The King of Witches was watching the Hellion go. Now hiseyes snap to the Governor, his lips curled unpleasantly down like he’s just smelled something foul.
The Governor pulls his hand back to slap me, as if it’s my fault Harfor left so fast, before the Governor could gain whatever favor he needed to be given a better isle to run. My instincts roar awake inside me, but I stand firm, hands at my side. Harfor was clear that I’m still being tested, and the War-Father told me to obey.
The Governor’s hand swings toward me. Malkin yelps, a hand clapped to her mouth.
The witch lunges forward and lifts his bound hands to block the blow. He moves like he's part of the wind, so fast my eyes barely track him.
The Governor’s hand connects with the witch’s chained wrists in a loud crack. The Governor gasps and scrambles back.
The witch takes a slow step towards him. Even covered in enchantment marks and his wrists bound in chains, he’s an imposing figure. And all the precautions binding him are a constant reminder of what I already know: he’s powerful beyond reckoning. The strongest of our enemies.
“Get back,” the Governor snaps.
The witch takes another slow step forward, tilting his head to one side.
“I said….!”
“You’re a small little man, aren’t you?” The king’s voice rasps from disuse. It's as low as the thunder rolling across the sky.
“The witch defends you,” the Governor snaps at me. “Proof, proof that you—”
“He’s Enchanted to,” I point out flatly. But my heart is racing. How am I supposed to guard someone like him? We shouldn’t let him live. Every breath this man draws is a threat to life itself.
The Governor's chest swells and falls as he pants, eyes sparking with fury.
