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I swallowed, gathering my courage. He grabbed my elbow and yanked me to my feet. As he did so, I struck. I grasped his wrist above the blade and bit down as hard as I could, making him yowl with pain and release his hold.

The weapon clattered against the wooden boards at our feet. I was thrown through the air again, landing hard on my stomach beside the open lifeless eyes of the corpse at the bottom of the steps. Before I could rise, Fiorge grabbed hold of my ankles, sliding me back toward him across the floor. I clawed at the wood, desperate to find purchase.

He wrestled me far too easily onto my back, then pinned me with his knees on either side of my hips. Slamming my wrists down on either side of my head, he leaned over me. I froze, chest heaving with the force of my breath as he stared at me, fury written all over his ruddy face. The thin white scar that started above his eye patch and trailed out beneath it again almost glowed in relief against the scarlet of his skin.

As he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth, forcing me to turn my head away. “You fucking cunt, you think I’m not going to make you regret that? You’ll beg me for death before I’m done with ya. And I’ll give you no such mercy.”

His threats were little more than buzzing in my ears as my gaze focused on the dark blade, almost invisible against the filthy wood of the floor only inches from where he had me pinned. So close I could practically feel the hilt in my fist as I imagined sinking it into his flesh.

I struggled against his hold, which seemed to please him again. But I didn’t care. I just needed a free hand…

He transferred my wrists to one of his hands and reached down to pinch me hard in the side with the other. I answered with a scream born more of frustration than pain as he reached down to loosen his trousers.

“Afraid I’ll scratch you?” I asked as he adjusted himself.

“If you do, I’ll cut yer hand off,” he promised, finally letting go of my wrists in favor of reaching for my pants.

It was all I needed. I snatched the dagger and sat up, thrusting it straight into his eyepatch. Hot blood flowed over my arm as we stared at each other for one horrible moment when I thought all I’d managed was to piss him off.

Then his one bloodshot eye rolled up, revealing milky white, and he fell back to the floor with a thud, the handle still protruding from his face. I continued to stare, frozen, as the blood flowed around the blade and out of his mouth, surrounding him in sickening halo of sticky, dark liquid.

My stomach heaved, and I leaned over to wretch, vomit covering the wood and his pant leg before I was done. Then I scrambled to my feet, quaking so hard it was a wonder I was able to stand.

I turned toward the stairs, determined to climb my way out and help the others. I used hands and feet to get to the top of the steps only to find the exit barred by a glowing blue portal. And on the other side stood the person I least expected in the world.

My vision swam, Serano’s face the last thing I saw as everything faded to black.

Thirty-Eight

Rivven

Iwould not abide another failure. I refused to sit back and wallow while this filth tortured my sister and the others. And Nyah…why had she retreated? There was something about the way Rune had looked at me that sent my gut into a spiral of worry that overtook everything else.

Something was very wrong.

As if any of what was happening was right.

Wait, I instructed myself. It went against every fiber of my being, but I knew I had to let them think I’d given up. It would make this so much simpler. I stumbled purposely as they dragged us toward the wooden crates they’d lowered, using air wielding, to the deck from the other ship. Each one was barely big enough for one person bent and tucked.

Shoving the old captain in first, they closed the lid over him. A couple meager holes allowed air flow enough so as not to suffocate him.

I’d seen crates like these before, and it made my blood boil so hot the collar around my neck stung me. These were the containers the worst of the pirates kept their human cargo in when they intended to transport them for the slave trade. We’d freed many from such situations, no doubt a small percentage of the number of people who’d been subjected to them.

Next went the boy, Bonch, pale and frightened. He didn’t deserve this. No one here did. Then a few more of the crew we’d hired. Where was Torvo? Kendara? I’d held out hope when we’d been below that they’d somehow escaped and stayed out of the way, waiting for the right moment to strike. But the longer this went on, the less likely that became, and I couldn’t count on it. I had to act as though they hadn’t made it.

That thought alone made my stomach dip again.

“Get the big one locked away,” the one who’d spoken downstairs—Kane I believe he’d been called—ordered, gesturing toward me.

I met his eyes with promises I intended to keep. Ones where I vowed to burn him to ash with the music of his screams playing in the background. He averted his gaze, a visible shiver running through him. I grinned.

“Let’s make him watch,” one of the others said. He was either stupid or hadn’t had the pleasure of my direct stare yet.

“Captain said to crate all but these three,” Kane answered, grabbing Devira’s arm and tugging her toward him with all the gentleness of a Cravenbeast. At least those were animals and acted purely on instinct. These men had no such excuse.

My muscles clenched as three men hauled me to the next open crate. I had to wait, despite the urge to kill another one with my elbow. It would have been ridiculously easy as he leaned over, trying to figure out how to haul my considerable weight up and over the side of the wooden box. But that would have alerted the others too soon.

I caught a glimpse of Galan as one of the pirates from the other ship loomed over him. I’d never seen him so spent. He’d used too much magic—sailing the ship, wielding against the storm, and then fighting in the attack mere days afterward. I’d seen him save Jym, sending a would-be assailant into the rail hard enough to knock him unconscious. But it had cost him dearly, as he’d sunk to his knees then been tackled from behind. And I couldn’t help, not when I had Sharlyne to protect.