The first thing her eyes were drawn to was an orange glow in the dark night sea.
The ocean was burning.
No… Not the ocean. The remnants of another vessel smoldered as it was slowly being consumed by the churning waves.
Opposite the entrance to Adela’s cabin was a circle of pirates. Eira couldn’t see what was at their center. But if Adela was among them then the situation was in hand.
Eira scanned the deck for her friends. She knew Cullen had said everyone was all right. She doubted he would’ve spent time kissing her if they hadn’t been…but she was still relieved the moment her eyes landed on the small group that had become her entire world. She didn’t have to go far to reach them; they were perched on one of the two staircases on either side of the entrance to Adela’s cabin that led up to the quarterdeck.
They were bruised and scuffed. A thin trail of blood ran from Olivin’s temple down to the tip of his chin. But he seemed more focused on Yonlin
—who was pushing his elder brother’s fretting away firmly enough that Eira wasn’t concerned for his well-being. The one who seemed in the worst shape among them was Noelle.
She gripped her bicep at its top, almost by her shoulder, no doubt restricting the blood flow to a deep gash that ran from her forearm almost up to her fingers. She grinned through the pain, but Eira could see from the bulging muscles in her jaw just how tightly her teeth were clenched. Alyss
was already working on mending the wound. Judging from the thin scars and deep pockmarks, she had been for some time.
“…be a hero,” Ducot was saying as they approached.
“What can I say? Being the center of attention just comes naturally to me.” Noelle leaned back into him as Alyss continued her work. She rested against one of Ducot’s thighs. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders as if he could protect her from the pain.
“Well, make it stop coming naturally.”
Noelle reached up and took his hand, guiding it to the forearm that Alyss had already healed. She ran his fingers over the flesh that was now raised and gnarled. The faintly glowing dots on Ducot’s brow tipped upward in the center.
“My love…” he whispered. It almost stopped Eira in her tracks. She knew the two of them were close…but the way he spoke was with a whole different level of intimacy and understanding. It made her chest squeeze and her hand tighten slightly around Cullen’s waist.
Noelle reached up and cupped Ducot’s cheek. “Now you’re not the only one with battle scars. We can both be ‘monsters.’” The way she said the word betrayed that it was an echo of something he probably had uttered in quiet confidence more than once.
Eira had never seen Noelle look at anyone the way she looked at Ducot in that moment. They loved each other. Unlike Eira, Noelle had moved slowly, and with purpose. Ducot had remained steadfast at her side. They had worked through issues as they had arisen. Eira hoped that they were the ones Alyss was using as the muses for her story. They were the ones getting it right.
Maybe Eira could look to them as well. She was clearly more ready to start crossing lines again and exploring feelings than she’d previously thought.
“You will never be a monster,” Ducot murmured, and kissed Noelle’s temple.
“I’m quite all right with my enemies thinking I am.” He chuckled.
“Eira.” Olivin was the first to notice her approach. He stopped pestering his younger brother and stood. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I’m fine, just tired.” Perhaps it was due to the thoughts of relationships being fresh in her mind, or the tingling of her lips, but Eira
had never been more aware of how close Cullen was to her. Of how tightly he was holding her. Part of her wanted to push him away…and the other part wanted to hold him tighter.
It was a reminder that, despite their patience and understanding, she needed to dedicate as much time to sorting out her heart as she was to her magic.
“What happened to you? To the whole ship?” Eira asked. “I was in Adela’s cabin the entire time.”
“Was she keeping you safe?” Lavette asked. No matter how much chaos unfolded around her, she was ever astute. Always looking for new information and important details. There was a time Eira might’ve found it annoying, but she’d begun to admire the other woman for it. Never missing a beat and always keeping her footing was a goal of Eira’s.
Eira didn’t see the point of lying. “I was helping her keep the ship together.”
“Adela let you helm the Stormfrost?” Ducot’s words were still soft, but no longer with tenderness. He was clearly struggling to sort out meaning that Eira had hardly had time to parse herself. Wonder and awe mixed with horror.
“It was just helping her thicken the ice on the hull,” Eira backtracked slightly. But Adela had said… Until I return, she’s in your hands.
“I see.” Ducot seemed unconvinced as well, but a commotion from the circle of pirates behind them interrupted the conversation.
There was a burst of cheers and then a frenzy of movement. The pirates descended on whatever was in their center. The mass of people shifted—a tangle of limbs, grabbing and pulling—and when they retreated, a man was revealed.
He had been stripped naked and bound with a thick line of rope. Raised markings—as much scars as tattoos—covered his shoulders, intricate line work that reminded Eira almost of Lightspinning, but the shapes were different. These weren’t layered circles and delicate lines, but harder shapes. They looked like the runes from the coliseum and the gate had been imprinted directly onto his body.
He glared up toward Adela. And the pirate queen, in turn, looked back to Eira with a slight smile dancing across her lips.
“I think we shall leave it up to her,” Adela announced. Everyone fell silent.
“Her?” one of the pirates asked, flabbergasted.
“Yes, she was the one who was the steward of Stormfrost during the attack.” This announcement caused murmuring between the pirates. They shared uncertain glances that were turned back in Eira’s direction.
She stood a little taller.
“This is a lutenz of Carsovia.”
Varren sucked in air behind her as Adela spoke.
“Captain of the ship that attacked our vessel.” Adela motioned to the bound and gagged man. “What would you have us do with him?”
What was the game that Adela was playing? Was she trying to make a wedge between Eira and the other pirates? No…that couldn’t be it. If Adela had wanted the crew to dislike her, she would’ve never allowed Eira to hold any esteem in the first place.
“Kill him,” Varren said coldly. Eira glanced over her shoulder. The man’s eyes were haunted and as cold as his words. He stared at the man from Carsovia as though he wasn’t even human.
The lutenz—which Eira assumed to be a term for some kind of knight or leader of Carsovia, given that Adela said he was a captain—for his part seemed completely unfazed by Varren’s harsh reaction to the mere sight of him. In fact, a smile stretched over the top edges of his gag, curling around it as he bared the fabric in his teeth, spittle dripping off his chin. There was a sinister and cruel glint to his eyes.
He had to know he was going to die. How else could he be calm enough to smile, rather than beg, before Adela and all her crew? A dead man had nothing to lose—no reason to tell them any pertinent information. The look in his eyes reminded her of the Pillars. They, too, shared that same crazed and wild aura.
The likeness gave her the strength to stand a little taller. She was even more grateful that she hadn’t accepted Cullen’s offer to carry her. Men like this, even dead ones, were the last people she would show weakness to.
“Well?” Adela asked again, mildly impatient.
“We cannot use him in any way?” Eira doubted they could, but had to ask anyway.
“Wishful thinking, girl.” Adela tapped her cane. “He is about as useful to us as a torn sail.”
“The Empress of Carsovia doesn’t make deals,” Varren added. Eira glanced back at him. Lavette was holding his hand now. His face was still
twisted with hatred. The closest she’d ever seen to it was when he had first told them about the mines.
She returned her attention to the bound man. If her assessment was right, and he was as loyal to his empire as the Pillars were to Ulvarth, the man would no doubt do everything in his power to kill himself before he could be used against his nation in any way. What made someone view their life worth so little and another’s worth so much? And what type of place was Carsovia that it demanded this loyalty?
There would be no way he would join the crew, which meant he couldn’t earn his place. All the resources on the Stormfrost were carefully allotted, and had to be dwindling given how long they’d been at sea. He wouldn’t give them information…
“He dies.” Two words summed up her conclusion.
“Yes, yes.” Adela hummed, ever impatient. “We knew this. How does he die?”
Eira’s curiosity toward Adela’s motivations piqued further. What did the pirate queen presume to gain by deferring to her in this manner? Surely not the love of her crew, judging by their agitated and confused faces.
It dawned on her. This must be a test.
Adela was nothing if not overcautious. She calculated everything and it was clear she was at odds with Carsovia, given her demand for Eira to kill the man in charge of their flash bead mines. Adela must be wanting to ensure Eira didn’t have any love for the other empire. It didn’t matter to Adela that Eira claimed she’d never heard of Carsovia until arriving on Meru, when she had also proven herself during their many discussions to be well-read on matters of the world. Perhaps she’d been so successful that Adela wasn’t truly certain if Eira knew nothing.
“If you wanted so badly to meet the Queen of the Seas, then you should die by her domain,” Eira declared. The words were void of any emotion. Any guilt or remorse Eira might have felt had vanished, smothered. Her eyes met the man’s. “Tell me, Lutenz, how good of a swimmer are you? How long can your magic hold up?”
His only response was a low chuckle, barely audible through his gag.
Eyes aflame.
“Give him to the sea!” Adela declared.
Cullen gripped her tighter. “Eira, if he is meant to die then give him a quick death.”
“A quick death is more than they deserve.” Varren’s tone grew more hateful by the second, his scowl deepening. “They do not offer clean deaths to the poor, the weak, the infirm. It is a luxury they don’t deserve.”
“I didn’t say to do it out of kindness,” he countered. Surprise brought her eyes toward him. Cullen’s tone was shifting, a distortion of what she thought she knew. It had all the cunning of his careful plotting as a lord, but an ease with doing what must be done. As if he had finally been untethered. “What if he does survive? You see the runes on his body.”
“Forbidden magic,” Varren muttered. Though the sentiment made Eira even more curious. So the strange tattoos weren’t just for show…
“The last thing we want is to risk information of us getting back.” Cullen locked eyes with her. “If it pleases you, let me do it.”
She glanced back to Varren. He continued to glare at the lutenz, but he didn’t make any movement or raise an objection to the notion of the lutenz being somehow able to survive. If Cullen truly wanted to… A dark and wicked streak in her wanted to see if he would—if he could.
“Do it,” she said, mildly curious what he had in mind. “If I may?” Cullen said to Adela.
“I left the choice to her.”
Cullen reached out a hand and his magic swelled. His grip tightened around her protectively as the man began to sputter. The muscles in his throat bulged along with his eyes as his face turned purple. Eira could almost see a bubble forming around his face in the hazy currents of frost radiating from the deck.
She wasn’t the only one who’d been practicing…Cullen was stealing the man’s air.
The nameless lutenz kept his eyes locked with her, smiling his cruel grin the entire time. It grew more and more wild as his final seconds ticked on. As if he could somehow transfer death’s gaze from himself, to her. Eira clutched Cullen a bit tighter.
The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he slouched.
“Get this garbage off my ship.” Adela turned and slowly began walking back to her cabin.
It was Adela’s words that spurred the crew to movement, carrying the man to the edge. They tossed him over the railing with the grace of a sack of refuse, casting him into the dark sea, never to be seen again.
