“What would he do if I bit off your hand?” she said, her voice going from harsh rage to innocent calm in a blink like there were two women inside her taking turns speaking.
“He would cut off yours,” I snarled.
“He would have to come in here first,” she said, stroking my knuckles with her bloody fingertips. “And I am not as weak as I look.”
“I would kill you,” Vidar growled. “Dahlia’s hand is worth far more than your life, I assure you.”
She smiled up at him, sharp teeth gleaming in the lantern light. Then, like she was mocking him, she stared into his eyes and slowly lowered her mouth to my fingers, prolonging the kiss she planted on the top of them as if she was reveling in the way it made his pulse frantic.
As soon as I felt her grip loosen even a fraction, I yanked my hand out of the cell and stood away from the bars, angered by the lack of progress I had made with her. I heard Vidar sheath his weapon with a low curse.
“Why?” Lyla muttered.
“Why what?” I asked,
“Why is your hand worth more than me?”
“You know why. We care about each other. We protect each other. From everything.”
When she did not respond to that, I tossed a glance at Vidar, who seemed beyond fed up with the visit. He turned and headed for the steps to leave and I followed, turning to face Lyla one last time.
“If you want to end it,” I said. “Do it yourself. We both know you’re more than capable. But I don’t think you will.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because you haven’t yet. You have a chance to live for yourself now, you know.”
“From inside a cell?” she chuckled, staring once more into nothingness.
I did not have an answer to that comment. It was true that she could not live in a cell and be free at the same time, but I could not let her out, either. She was a menace and nothing she did was predictable.
“None of it will matter anyways,” she said. “Not where you’re going. We’ll all meet each other in the afterlife soon enough, if there is one.”
I shook my head, dismissing her words. I didn’t want them to be true, but I knew the odds were not in our favor.
I turned and started to climb the steps when I heard Lyla choking and gagging behind me. Once more, I turned and found her hand halfway buried in her mouth, her jaw unhinged to accommodate it. With a single tug, her mouth began to flood with blood. She coughed it all over the floor before tossing a mass of flesh toward me with a hateful growl.
At the bottom of the steps was a bloodied tongue, ripped right from the root. I stepped down to retrieve it with an exasperated sigh while Lyla retreated to her corner again and laid down, rolling onto her side with her back to us like a pouting child.
Just then, the sound of a bell chiming rang from the deck.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Vidar swore, rushing upwards.
I followed, emerging to see Aleksi ringing the bell from the crow’s nest. Vidar and I both pivoted to see what it was that had caused him alarm and noticed a thick wall of dark clouds rolling toward us like a hungry, lumbering beast.
“We are getting closer, I think,” I said, breathing in the humid air as it rushed across my face.
“We’re clear of ports, love,” he said. “From this point on, we survive or we don’t.” He spun, heading for the helm. “Batten down the hatches and reef the sails!”
Men began shouting at each other, scattering to their stations as the wind picked up. I was no sailor, but I knew that when a storm was coming, it meant the wind should have been blowing the same direction. Instead, it seemed to be pushing us toward the storm while the clouds simultaneously trudged toward us. I took a deep breath, launching Lyla’s tongue overboard.
“Is that it?” Meridan said from my left. “The Myre?”
“I would assume so. It looks uninviting enough.”
“Can the ship make it?”
I glanced up to see Vidar at the wheel, barking orders at his men. The Storm Weaver was strong and her captain was even stronger.
