Darian grabbed a fistful of Augustus’s hair and dragged him forward while the other two men held his arms splayed. Augustus had no choice but to stumble after him, bent and pulled apart. His shoulders felt like they might separate from his arms.
Near the fountain, pirates lifted a premade platform constructed of weathered plankboard, similar to those used to hold the bodies of his six dead fleetmates. A steel shackle ring with a chain and open cuffs had been affixed near that top, just beneath a second board that was horizontal to the ground.
Two words had been burned into it:The Arachne.
“I thought it fitting,” Phya said, hands clasped behind his back, “to use the remains of your parents’”—he paused to sneer—“offeras a part of your punishment.”
TheArachnehad been destroyed for this? Phya was mad—he could have sold that ship. Instead, he wasted an incredible vessel to make a point. Surely, Augustus’s public bloodletting would have been enough.
Darian’s men shackled Augustus to the board.
One of Phya’s bookkeepers appeared with his head bowed and a whip curled in his hands like an offering—a Cat-o’-Nine-Tails. There was just enough sunlight to glint off the metal pieces embedded within the knotted ends of the braided leather.
Darian accepted the weapon without a single flinch in his expression. The tails hit the ground with a sound that wasn’t quite leather and wasn’t quite chain, but promised to flay him all the same.
“How many strikes?” the Bladesworn asked.
“Until I tell you to stop.” Phya met Augustus’s eyes. “Or until he’s dead. Whichever comes first.”
Darian gave Augustus one warning nod.
Augustus urged memory to the forefront of his mind: Selene’s laugh. Her smile. He saw her face, felt her warmth as the whip rose?—
And turned her love into his shield.
The entire world went white.
Somewhere beyond the crowd, a deep clicking started—like bone tapping wood.
Selene couldn’t reconcile the sight of Petrina’s head lying inches away from her body. Petrina’s long brown braid soaked up her blood as it created a pool around her.
Tomas—the Bladesworn, the man who wassupposedto protectthem—swung his sword in a way that sent Petrina’s blood flying across the ground and the nearby wall.
Fisting the long blades at her sides, Selene swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and clenched her teeth around her furious scream.
Tomas sauntered over to Petrina’s head. “And she was supposed to be the hard one to kill,” he mused. He grabbed the end of Petrina’s braid and picked up the head.
Selene nearly heaved up everything in her stomach.
“I’m feeling generous,” he said, tucking the thick braid up through his belt. “I’ll give you to the count of thirty before I come after you.” He gave the head dangling against his hip a quick pat. “And when I’m finished, I’ll hang your head alongside your friend. Give you a chance to say goodbye.”
Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she gave over to her instincts, sprinting toward the safety of the streets. Every step away from Petrina felt like a betrayal, but she couldn’t fight this man. And thirty seconds wasn’t nearly enough time.
She needed to find Oskar. He was her only chance.
Until then, she had to rely on her training. How many times had the Blades made her run those obstacle courses? How many variations had she experienced? Enough to get her through these roads and pathways. She stopped caring about hiding her path and focused on staying ahead.
Selene hip-slid across tables to curses and shouts. She crashed crates of live chickens against walls for additional chaos, filling the air with feathers and furious squawks. On one particular sprint across the cobblestone road, an open barrel of tar sat just near enough to an open fire pit. She heaved the barrel to its side and let the contents splash toward the flames. Fire and smoke erupted, followed by extreme heat and screams.
She stepped into the thick smoke and crouched low, making her way toward a shadowed corner with a faded, scarred door depicting a curling rose and thorns. She had no idea what she’d be walking into, but decided that whatever lay on the other side was worth facing.
Selene pushed through the heavy door and leaned against the wall just inside, catching her breath. Bright, flowery wallpaper covered the walls, and silks hung from the ceiling to create partitions. Half-nude women lounged on settees and at a bar manned by another woman holding a glass of brown liquor frozen halfway to her lips.
The bartender lowered her glass and frowned. “Sorry, love, but if youwant to be serviced, you’re going to have to clean up first.” Her eyes lowered to Selene’s clothes, which had a splatter line of Petrina’s blood across them. “We have standards.”
Selene opened her mouth to apologize and make excuses, but different words slipped off her tongue instead. “Include a bath, and I’ll take two girls for the night.”
She wouldn’t be around long enough for either, but if it got her past this room, she’d say whatever she had to.
