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I swallow again. My throat is thick.
I glance out at the water. One brigantine is closer, but I doubt they’re close enough to see that we’re held captive on deck, even with a spyglass. If they’re here at my brother’s order, I wouldn’t mind the assistance, but it’s not like Rian can’t slit my throat if they start firing cannons. The only leverage I have is that he’ll want me alive if he intends to use me against Harristan—but that clearly doesn’t mean I’ll be kept in comfort.
But if that ship is here for nefarious purposes, I don’t want to face it with my hands lashed to a wooden beam.
Not that I have a choice. Knowing my luck, they’ll fire on theDawn Chaserand we’ll all drown.
More of the crew have come up on deck now, and it’s obvious they’ve heard what happened—but you’d think we weren’t even here. They begin going about their morning duties, barely glancing at any of us. Rian has retired to his stateroom, but he’s not far fromthe window. I can see him watching all of us. Gwyn isn’t far either. She stands at the helm. Sablo and Marchon are at the other end.
The crew might be working, but the key players are stressed. I might be able to use that to my advantage.
Maybe? Possibly?
I don’t know who I think I’m fooling.
I test my bonds. The ropes don’t give an inch. I’m on my knees, but I’m tied too tightly to sit fully. My hands are already tingling, so I shift to try to slacken the pressure. It doesn’t help.
Panic threatens to bubble up in my chest, but I force it back down. I’ve been bound before. I’ve been captured before. I survived that, I can survive this.
I don’t know what will happen if we try to talk to each other, but it’s not like things can get much worse.
“Rocco,” I say.
He blinks and looks up, and it takes a second longer than it should. “Your Highness.”
“You’re injured.”
“A blade caught me under my ribs. It’s not too deep.” His breathing seems shallow, contradicting his words.
“Do you know what happened to Silas?”
“They could have confined him to his quarters.”
I hear what he’s not saying.Or he could be dead.
Even if we somehow get free, there would be three of us against Rian’s entire crew. Unarmed and injured.
If Silas survived, that only makes four.
“Lochlan was on deck with us,” I say. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know.” He pauses. “Possibly confined to his quarters as well.”
“Your boy’s down in the galley,” calls one of the crewmen. Tor, I think. “Dabriel’s got him shelling the crabs.”
Down in the galley.Like he’s one of the crew. I scowl.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
Rocco winces, then shifts his weight. A bloom of sweat glistens on his forehead. I should ask if he’s more injured than he’s letting on—but I probably don’t want the answer. It’s no secret that he’s hurt and in pain—but Gwyn was calling for Rian to shoot him. I’m sure he worries that being seen as a liability would not improve his position.
I draw a long breath and try to think of a plan.
I have nothing.
Instead, I think of my brother.
That’s no better.
