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The first signal was placed, now it would be time for Lady Narza to prove her words and stand with the Ever King at long last. Bells of warning clanged from the isle. Ash and smoke sails broke the surface in the distance, and a storm collided with the shores.
Triumph, bright and heady, burned under my ribs.
A grunt and splatter of blood landed a dead man at my feet. Through the rain, Stieg shot me a dark smile. The warrior turned and leveled another man with his sword, and when a second attack came from the side, he managed to cover the sod’s face with his big palm and slam his face against the center mast.
I rolled my shoulders. All was going to plan.
“Bonekeeper!” My voice, like the swell of the sea, rocked along the deck with every sway in the storm.
“Erik, the helm!” Celine had a blade raised like she might throw it, but her mouth was slack with worry. “The helm!”
Tidecaller rushed on her own, frantic, dodging strikes made by rogue blades. I spun over my shoulder, and a sharp burn filled my middle. Sewell, bent over the rail, held his sword against Larsson. Blood already stained Bonekeeper’s chin. How many men had he shredded for their voice?
None of it mattered. My cook, my crewmate, the closest man I’d ever had to a father, was faltering.
Then I was running.
Fire crackled up my leg, into my spine. I hastened my pace.
An elven guard, one sleeve of his starlight tunic set aflame, stumbled into me. I hissed, braced my back on the mast, andstuffed his belly with my boot. There was no time to wait to watch him flail as he tumbled over the edge of the ship into the sea.
The pierce of a scream cut deeper than a blade. Celine shouted for her father, her brother, and she stumbled. Larsson finagled Sewell’s sword from his grip, and the moment the former bone lord opened his mouth to use his sea voice, Larsson tore his teeth into Sewell’s neck.
“No!” Gavyn noticed. He was water in the next breath.
Shit, shit, shit!
I crashed into Larsson, tearing him away from Sewell. Gavyn’s form appeared in front of his father, catching Sewell under the arms before he fell to the deck, blood a fountain from his neck.
Larsson’s head smacked onto the quarterdeck, my body over his, but his fist struck my ribs without pause. We rolled away from the helm, lashing like starved hounds. Larsson straddled me and reached for my throat. My knuckles cracked over his jaw. I bucked my hips, tossing him off balance overhead, and scrambled to my feet.
Blades out, Larsson sliced a dagger through the air. I bent back, but not swift enough. Larsson slammed his leather-wrapped hilt against the weak point of my leg. It buckled. With the back of his hand, he struck my face. I tilted onto one elbow, bracing, and shielded a downward blow with the edge of my cutlass.
Teeth bared, Larsson leaned into me over our swords and lifted his boot again, kicking and kicking at the crooked bones in my leg.
Black clouded the corners of my eyes from the pain.
“Untouchable, Bloodsinger,” Larsson spat. Blood from his attacks—from Sewell—fell onto my face. Another kick. “Poison blood can’t help you against snapping bones.”
Somewhere, my name was called. Pleaded, more like it. My leg bent under another kick. It cracked.
One more, and the whole of my limb would shatter. I groaned and embraced a hysterical instinct to survive. Larsson leaned over our blades again, and the edge trembled close to my throat. I tookhim by the neck and dug my fingernails deep into his flesh until it broke and split.
Larsson reared back, leaving bits of his skin under my nails. With the quarterdeck rail, I heaved upright, bracing on my strong leg.
Cold eyes darkened. “You never give up, do you?”
“Must be a family trait.”
Larsson used his sleeve to wipe away some of the blood. “Perhaps. You know,brother, I don’t think you’ve ever heard my voice.”
He hummed a tune, soft, almost lively.
My body stiffened, muscles locking. Pain tore into my chest. Needles of ice pierced my skin until it burned. Rain slicked my shirt to my skin, giving clear sight to charcoal black flesh peeling away from my bones.Fleshripper.Strange, how fascinated my mind became, watching my own chest shred and burn.
Blood spilled down my middle. My feet stumbled. I fell.
Slow, almost somber steps approached. Dazed, distant, I stared up at Larsson’s face. If I narrowed my gaze, I could almost seeher. Blue eyes like the Ever sea, the sweet worry line over her brow.
