Page 113 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

Or else I roll the dice. Save everyone, or die trying.

Rot.

I don’t care about everyone. Maybe that makes me a monster, but I’ve always known that. To save Tori, to save Meroe, to save my own skin, I’d kill every crew on the ship if I had to. But—

There’s more to saving Meroe than just keeping her alive. If I take her with me, and we live when everyone else dies, then she’d never forgive herself. The goodness in her, the part that makes her care, might be snuffed out forever.

Then she’d be a monster, too. And I can’t accept that.

“I can beat her. I beat the hammerhead and the blueshell, and they were both bigger than she is.”

“Right,” Meroe says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. It’s just if you went in there, because I asked you to, and … got hurt, or anything—”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. And I will be. For her sake, if not for mine.

“I’ll start laying the groundwork,” she says. “There’s a few people I know who can probably help.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Have you been starting a revolution without me?”

“Not … exactly,” she says. “But you kept talking about getting close to the Captain. I thought we might need some support eventually.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

She looks up at me, hesitates, then leans forward impulsively. Her lips brush mine, as light a touch as a butterfly’s wing, less a kiss than a promise of things to come. She backs away, eyes wide as though amazed at her own daring, grinning like a fool. I think there’s a matching smile on my own face.

Without taking her eyes off me, she gets up and bangs on the door to the cell. I stand up as the guards pull the bar and let her out, drinking in the sight of her as long as I can.

“Wait,” I say, once she’s gone but before they can shut the door again. Both guards tense, as though they expect me to try something.

“I need you to find Zarun,” I say.

“Zarun doesn’t have time for you anymore,” he says.

“He will. Tell him…” I pause, then shrug. “Tell him I’m ready to kill the Butcher for him.”

“Not bad, for a cell,” Zarun says, looking around. “I didn’t realize we kept prisoners in such luxury.”

“It’s feeling less like a cell and more like an audience chamber,” I say. “I’ve had half the Council in here so far.”

“I’d expect nothing less of the mighty Deepwalker.” He looks down at his nails, flicks away a bit of grit. Today he’s dressed soberly, in shimmering black velvet and crimson ribbons. “I ought to be very angry with you.”

“For stealing the dredwurm’s eye, or for seducing you first?”

“My memory of that night is a little fuzzy, but I don’t believe I took much seducing.” He grins, then lets it fade. “I’m sorry about your man. You shouldn’t have gone after it with a pack of four.”

“They were the only four I could trust.”

“Jack would be hurt, if she heard that.”

“We both know Jack and Thora work for you first and me second.”

“True.” Zarun sighs. “Ah, well. I can’t find it in me to hold it against you. The hunt for the eye was always a distraction, and truthfully I’m glad to have it over with. Things are difficult enough as it is.”

“Do you believe the Scholar?”

“Soliton’s never gone close to the Rot before. I still have a hard time believing it would do something so dangerous. Why collect us all, only to kill us?”