Page 31 of Black Sea

And I blacked out.

17

I gradually regained consciousness. I had fainted for the second time in just a few days. A human’s banal punch shouldn’t have knocked me out.

Still, it had happened, and I didn’t like it at all.

When I opened my eyes, it felt like a monumental effort. I took several seconds to focus on the environment.

I was sitting on the floor with my legs bent to the side and my arms handcuffed behind my back around a wooden pole in the middle of a narrow cell.

Two dim lanterns hung from the sides of a small door, barely illuminating three cramped cells. In two of them, prisoners were crouched in a fetal position on the floor, which was so cold under my feet. In the third cell, a man and a woman were leaned against the iron bars, cradling three children of varying ages in their arms, desperately trying to keep them warm.

None of these people had a blanket to shield themselves from the humidity coming from the bulkheads.

The foul stench of dirty bodies and excrement from the buckets in their cells tightened around my throat like a noose. I tried not to gag and focused on smelling other odors that didn’t make my stomach churn.

Only I couldn’t. My sense of smell was . . . limited.

I closed my eyes in frustration, my breathing becoming rapid. I focused on listening to the pirates’ voices aboard the galleon, hoping to locate the captain’s, but all I could hear were the prisoners’ ragged breaths, moans, and coughs.

“Next time, let me do the talking.”

I suddenly turned to my left. Amlach was sitting against the bulkhead, one knee pulled up to his chest, while the other leg was stretched out. He was playing with a large splinter of wood that he must have taken from a beam. Shadows cloaked him, making it hard for me to see his face, but his irises appeared to glow like burning coals.

“If you had not been so haughty,” he accused me, “we could have negotiated our release so much better.”

I gave him a smiting gaze. “You’re so certain you could have done better?”

A corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “You elves tend to feel superior to us humans.”

“We are,” I replied right away, slightly offended.

Amlach let out a throaty chuckle and dragged his eyes over my body, stopping at my restrained wrists. “Not in all things, apparently.”

I jerked my gaze away from him, annoyed by the warmth on my cheeks and the tightness in my lower belly muscles. I decided to change the topic. “Why are you not chained?”

He grinned. “I suppose they don’t see me as a threat compared to you.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but the rage building inside me in ever-intensifying waves refused to be contained. “How long have we been sailing?”

“A while,” he answered cryptically.

“ How long, Amlach?” I snapped.

I felt his probing gaze over me. “What is it?” he asked, sensing something was wrong.

I glanced at him sideways. After all the time we had spent together—working, sharing meals, bickering, studying each other, and occasionally chatting—and all the nights we had slept just a few steps apart, could I truly trust him?

What if the person he had shown me was just a mask? What if, while I was unconscious, he had plotted with the captain to condemn me to a terrible fate?

After all, Amlach was a human, like those pirates. And despite my efforts to save him, it was clear that he continued to despise my kind.

“Nauriel.” Noticing the look of insecurity and growing anxiety etched into my features, Amlach came closer and placed one hand on my knee. His gaze was so intense that I felt it creeping into my mind. “Tell me.”

I stared at him, torn by a brutal inner conflict. Part of me wanted to trust him. Still, in the depths of my being, something warned me not to let my guard down.

“You must help me,” I said, getting up so quickly that a terrible dizziness almost made me fall back to the floor.