“We dropped her off at Torheim, days ago.”
The cocoon of air tightened until he was unable to draw in another breath. He moved a single finger and cried out when agonizing pain sprung forth. Blood slowly dripped down his hand from the fresh cut.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Forcina purred. “Not unless you want to lose a finger. Now….” She floated so close to him that he could feel her hot, sticky breath caress his face as she said, “Where is the girl?”
He had never seen her this close before. At this distance, he could see every line carved into her skin, every hair, every pore, and with a newfound clarity that she was not what she seemed.
“What are you?” he breathed.
Forcina froze, those silver eyes growing dark, their shimmer lost to the blackness as she narrowed them. “Whatam I?” Her head fell back and she cackled hoarsely.
The sound grated in his ears and he angled his head away from it.
“It’s funny how after all these years you have finally thought to ask me that question.”
Sweat beaded on his brow, his heart pounding in his ears at the look of pure malice that spread across her face.
“I am something that you cannot even comprehend. Something that you will never be able to defeat.”
And then he was falling, arms and legs flailing, desperate to find purchase to at least slow the fall, but there was nothing. Doraan had barely a split second to look down before he felt the biting smack of breaking through the cold surface as he plunged into the icy waters. By the time he had pushed through the murky depths of the sea, propelling his way back to the surface, Forcina was gone.
Doraan cried out in anger, slashing his hand across the ocean’s wavy surface, and this time welcoming the sting against his skin as it slammed against the water, spraying salt into the air.
22
Kamira
“Hoythere,lad!”Kamiracaught a glance of an elderly woman waving beside her, skin withered and wrinkled from countless years spent in the sun, hair stark white against the dark wooden door behind her. Kamira ignored her and continued down the cobbled street, eyes set on the sparkling cerulean hue of the ocean in front of her. Ships ebbed and bobbed at the docks, waves splashing against them in a spray of foamy white. She smiled at the sight. Weeks aboard theCursed Soulhad caused her to fall in love with the ocean. The more she thought about it, the more she found herself not wanting to find a life anywhere else but upon the sea with the crew she had formed a kindred bond with so quickly. They had become like family to her, and she knew that she would do anything—even risking her life as she was now—to help them.
Suddenly, a looming figure stepped in front of her and blocked her view. Kamira squinted up at them, using her arm as a shield for her eyes against the sun’s glare.
“You look hungry, lad. How ‘bout a stop in for a bit o’ fish pie?” the old woman said in a thick low-born accent.
“No, thank you.” she said, peering around the woman to the ocean just a few paces away. She stepped to the side to go around her but the woman followed, smirking down at her.
“Ain’t from ‘round here are ye’? Best be fixin’ for a warm bed to sleep in. Don’t want to be ‘round these parts when the sun goes down.” She motioned to the street they were on and down to the docks where several large stern looking men were prowling.
The sea breeze swept toward them, bringing the delightful scent of freshly baked pastry and smoked meat. She leaned into the smell, following it through the air like a dog. It had been a long time since she had a delicious home cooked meal. Her stomach gave a hearty rumble, and the woman smiled down at her. “Come take a load off, lad.”
She really was famished, and night would fall soon. She didn’t want to be on the streets when it did, and maybe she could test out this place, ask a few questions surrounding the Brothers while she was there.
Kamira looked up to the wooden sign swinging in the breeze on rusty hinges. It readThe Ale and the Wench Inn & Tavernin faded white letters. If worse came to worst, she could at least stay here for the night, gain any information she could and continue her search in the morning.
She glanced behind her, eyes darting across the city square. Her gaze caught on a glimpse of gleaming red hair and she spun back around.Was that Forcina? No, it couldn’t be.
Red hair was rare in Torheim and Aksahri, but she had never been to Neilmaar, so maybe it was more common here. It was probably best to get out of sight, just in case.
She smiled at the woman and said, “Might you have a room available for the evening? And anything other than fish pie?” Kamira had eaten her fill of fish during her time on board theCursed Souland she wasn’t sure she could stomach more. The thought alone made her belly queasy, unwelcoming bile rising in her throat.
The woman only laughed, putting a hand to Kamira’s back, leading her into the worn wooden door. “We have plenty, lad.”
As soon as Kamira stepped inside the small tavern, she was smacked in the face with the pungent scent of sweat, grease, and rum. She almost winced at the putrid smell, putting a hand up to discreetly cover her nose. It smelled like the musty, cloying scent of a wet dog—if said dog had rolled in a vat of animal grease and then jumped into a bucket of spiced rum.
A number of heads turned at her entrance, most with careless expressions, turning back to their tankards, but a few looked as if they wanted to peel the flesh from her bones. She quickly looked away from them, shivering with unease.Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
The woman pointed to an empty table in the corner. “Take a seat and I’ll bring ye a plate ‘er food.”
Kamira nodded and took a seat to observe the cozy seaside tavern.
