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“No!” Scot shook his head; a few other men were trying to get back to me. A loud crack of wood jutted through, water splashing over the side.
“That’s an order!” I shouted. “From your captain.”
Those words were binding, a law among pirates. One you could not question.
They hesitated but took it as law, grief flinching on their faces. Turning away, they jogged toward the back where the last rowboat was, understanding what my fate would be.
Did I want to die? No. I loved my life, but no man would be left behind.
Peering back up near the helm, I observed a body lying there, a blade sticking out of his chest.
“Rotty!” I ran to him, my knees sliding over the wet wood, kneeling beside him.
His eyes blinked up at me, his mouth opening and closing, gasping for air, the gold ornate handle sticking out between his ribs.
“It’s probably just a nick of a lung. You’ll be okay.” I told him. He was half fae; he would heal from this. “Just hold on and let me get it out. You’re going to be okay.” I grabbed the handle.
“No.” He croaked, his hand going over mine. “It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not.” I spit, wiping the stream of water splashing down on me. “Come on, I can get you to a boat.”
His hand squeezed mine tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Get your ass up. The blade didn’t hit your heart.”
“Doesn’t matter. This is the end for me.”
“This is not the time to get all dramatic.” I tried to get him to sit up, feeling his weight, the limpness in his muscles.
“I’m already dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The blade…” He coughed, his face flinching in pain. “I dipped it in goblin extract.”
I no longer felt the cold, the whipping rain, or the cuts and bruises covering my body. I went still, taking in what he had just said.
Goblin metal was painful and could kill a fae over time if exposed to it relentlessly, turning you mad first. Goblin extract was pure poison. Painful and merciless, it would make you tear at your skin with your fingernails, cut out your own heart, burn yourself alive just to relieve the pain.
We had pilfered it from a ship. I had Rotty lock it up, thinking it better in our hands than in someone else’s.
“What?” I sat back on my heels, staring at the dagger in his chest.
“The blade was meant for Lowe…” He trailed off.
He had become the victim of it instead.
“No.” I shook my head, not wanting to believe it.
“I am so sorry.” His body jerked, his breathing becoming labored, his voice strangled as the poison found its way into his bloodstream. “For everything…”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I still didn’t want to believe it. He was the closest thing to a friend I’d ever had. “Don’t give up,” I demanded.
“Promise me you will keep Katrina safe.”
“No need.” I tried to keep the panic in my voice at bay. “You can do it yourself. I will get you off this ship. Just hold on, okay? Do it for Katrina.”
“She is the reason for all of it…”
