James was as good at violence as any of us when the situation demanded it, but torture wasn’t his area of expertise, I realized.
I cursed aloud, marching through camp as the men slowly began to wake to the sounds of the commotion.
“Who here is willing to cut pieces off a siren if the need should arise?” I announced.
Cathal rose from a barrel, unsheathing a heavy hunting knife from his belt.
“Quite good at carving, I am,” he said.
“No, you ain’t,” someone said, drawing his pointed gaze.
“I need you to watch our prisoner,” I ordered. “Make sure she stays awake. She stops blinking or moving, you cut off a digit, yeah?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and headed for Lyla while I walked back to the cabin, but I did not find an awakened Dahlia. Instead, her wilted figure lay draped in Meridan’s arms on the bed. I returned to her side, sliding her body into my lap.
“Dahlia, open your eyes,” I said, gently patting her cheek. “Lyla’s awake. Come back to me.”
Still, she lay limp, barely breathing. No… I raised my hand to her mouth, waiting for the slight tickle of her breath against my knuckles and was horrified when I felt nothing. I shook her, my heart seizing up in my chest at the dead weight I felt in my hands.
“Dahlia. Open your eyes, love.”
“Vidar…”
“Open your fucking eyes!”
I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t. The mere thought ripped me open. I’d only just buried Gus and I was not yet whole enough to lose another piece of myself. Panic overwhelmed me until I felt Meridan’s cool hand against my forearm.
“Vidar!” she said. “She’s not dead.” I looked up at her, my head bursting with terrifying possibilities. “I can still hear her heart.”
“How? She is not breathing.”
“She is. I promise you.” Her voice cracked, the only indication that she was as worried as I was for a siren who could not shed tears.
“Lyla is awake. Why is she not?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But she’s alive.”
“What do we do?”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t even know that Lyla has anything to do with this.”
Gently, I set Dahlia down, pulling a blanket over her. “Nobody touches her. Meridan, you stay with her.”
“Of course,” she nodded.
Leaving Dahlia for a second time was like pulling against a taut rope. There was effort in every step as I marched back outside to a fully awake camp full of men wondering what was going on and made my way back toward Lyla. She’d stopped struggling and just hung there against the bars with my belt still around her neck, her gaze fixed on me. I watched her for a moment, searching for the smallest spark of emotion in her dark eyes, but I found nothing. She was going to let Dahlia die and not bat an eye.
Slowly, I crouched down in front of her, leaning on my knees to study that hollow, black stare.
“Did you do this?” I said.
She just gaped, the rise and fall of her chest the only hint that she was alive. I quickly reached into a pouch on my baldric and pulled out a ring of keys, jamming one in the lock.
“Cap’n,” someone said, but I ignored the wary warning and ripped the padlock away, yanking the gate ajar.
Cathal and Mullins moved in as if to herd a wild animal as I reached around and loosened the belt on Lyla’s neck. She didn’t fight me. Once she was free, I dragged her out of the cage by her bound arms and threw her to the ground. She rolled onto her back and I wasted no time ripping the harness off her mouth.
“How do I fix this?” I demanded again. “I know it’s your doing.”
