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“Understood,” I say, taking the sword off my belt and tossing it to them. One of the witches rushes forward to retrieve it. This just got a whole lot harder, but as long as the leaves are in my pocket, there’s a way out if I can’t get Smee free.
As I near my uncle, he holds out his arms like he’s expecting a hug. I keep walking toward the tent, sparing Smee a weak smile, but she doesn’t even register my presence. Her eyes zoned out on the sand. I’m dead to her... or maybe she feels bad for calling him.
Either way, I want to go to her, to pull her into my chest and tell her that I’m here, that I’ve got her, but I can’t... Not yet. My uncle tosses his arm around my neck like we’ve been best friends our entire lives.
“Now, let’s have a drink, shall we?”
I take a seat at the table in the tent. It’s small and foldable, but it has a whiskey bottle and two glasses on top. It’s like was expecting me...
“I knew you’d come around. My brother raised you, after all. He’s the most stubborn, pigheaded man I’ve ever met. Clearly, he’s rubbed off, but your mother was sensible. I hoped that by showing you mercy and allowing you to have one more night with your wife would get your head in the right place.”
“You make it seem like I’ve already picked who I’m sacrificing.” I cock my head to the side, accepting the glass he slides my way, but I don’t bring it to my lips. I’ll wait until his drink is gone first. I’m not dumb enough to get drugged.
“Well, considering Smee’s on board with it, and you didn’t bring your wife, I thought you had. You’re welcome, by the way. Killing the elf really changed her perspective. It was great motivation.”
“She’s your niece.” Gritting my teeth, pain shoots through my jaw.
“True, but you’re my son. Your mother never knew her, and honestly, I don’t think she’d question it if I said she lost the child in her womb when she got sucked into that vault. As far as she knows, Smee never existed.”
Zephyr was right... He doesn’t care about her in the least bit. I’ve got to get her off this shore. If I don’t, he’ll kill her out of spite if I die.
“My father died. You’ll never be half the man he was.” I watch my uncle down the last bit in his glass and I finally let myself indulge, letting the amber liquid burn down my throat.
“You better watch your mouth, boy. This can get a lot worse for you.” His eyes blaze and I can feel the static in the air. His lightning... I’m not sure why the element obeys him still, but it does.
“How exactly do you plan to explain to my mother that you tortured her son to be with her?”
“Easy. I’m not.” He leans back, fingering the rim of his glass.
“If she’s truly in there, she’ll have questions when you show up. She’ll hate you for all of this.”
“Then I’ll just have to hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me. I love her, always have. You understand that now. Tell me, Sebastian. If Scarlet were to be stripped from your life and locked in an impenetrable vault, would you kill someone to bring her back? To be with her again?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in that position.” I take another sip.
“Use your imagination.” My eyes dart away, falling on the stone sand. “That’s what I thought,” he sneers.
My uncle pushes up from the seat, gripping my shoulder as he walks by. “Stay here. Remember, Sapfrina will know if you use your gift. I have something I want you to see.”
The moment he leaves the tent, I wait three seconds, then launch from my seat. Smee’s back was to the tent wall. I can at least undo her bonds. It would make it easier to flee if she’s not bound. Lifting the canvas side from the bottom, trying to be as stealthy as possible, I reach for the ropes on Smee’s hands, but my hand sinks through her like she’s not even there. Her image flickers back into focus and I step back, letting the canvas fall shut.
What the fuck...She’s not here. It’s an illusion. That’s why she didn’t react to me being here. She didn’t see me, because someone is projecting her image with magic. Smee’s somewhere else.
I start to lift the back side of the tent, ready to bolt toward the woods, but even that will end badly. I’m not sure if the blood witches can use spells on a ship as far away as the Jolly Roger, but I’ve seen them do some unspeakable things. If I leave, they’ll kill them all. If I eat the leaves, they’ll do it anyway. I walked right into his trap.
Driving my fingers through my hair, I pace the tent. There’s got to be another way. Something.Anything.
I try to calm my racing heart, my mind reeling as it tries to come up with a way out of here that doesn’t end in the people I love dying. A tsking noise sounds behind me and my spine straightens as I gasp. Part of me doesn’t want to turn around.
Oh, how far I’ve fallen... It wasn’t that long ago that I won the king’s gauntlet—an event that’s deemed the most ruthless bloodbath our realm has ever seen. I slaughtered and drained the life from enemy after enemy. Now, I can’t kill one man. My gift is restored and I can’t even use it. If the witch senses my shadows, she’ll kill them. If I let him leave this tent, he’ll give her the order to do so. If I eat the leaves, he’ll kill them all anyway. I’m left in this box with no way out.
My hands clench at my sides, the adrenaline coursing through my veins has my body trembling, needing a release. I want to throw something. I want to break something in my bare hands. I want to watch the life drain from my uncle’s eyes and ensure his soul is shredded to bits just so he can never return. I want to hear his bones snap and watch his eyes bulge as he takes his last breath. Only I can’t... I’m helpless because any move I make will kill someone I love.
Filling my lungs to capacity, I slowly turn around to face him. My uncle takes one look at me and the air deflates from his body as he shakes his head.
“I hoped we could remain civil, but clearly, you have no intention of doing so. Which means we have to do this the hard way.” He sets his glass down on the table and I know what I have to do. I can’t let him leave this tent, but I can’t use my gift either.
In a split second, I kick my foot out, smashing it into the chair. The wood splinters and cracks beneath my weight. I slide the toe of my shoe beneath the broken chair leg, not taking my eyes away from my uncle as I thrust it up, catching it in my hand. He smiles at me as I grip the wooden stake and flex my fingers.
