“No!” Tristan yelled.
The nail went through his hand, shattering bone, and the daylight turned solid white. The scream scraping past his throat came after, underpinned by the approaching curses and shouts.
Creed put his mouth to Tristan’s ear. “Stay, maggot. I’ll deal with you after.”
He stood, smirking, then jerked?—
Creed froze as if stunned. Blood sprayed across Tristan. Only when Creed’s body twisted, falling in slow motion, did Tristan notice the large feather-tipped bolt through his eye.
The body fell atop Tristan, a death rattle escaping his lungs. Creed hadn’t looked heavy, but now that his dead weight lay across Tristan’s broken, pained chest, he struggled to get a full breath. His righthand was still cuffed near his left—not that he had any energy left to move the body off. He could barely stay conscious with the amount of pain coursing through him.
But he did stay conscious. In the distance, the fleet of pirates struck his village with a clash of steel, a sound as powerful as thunder.
To one side, the ocean lapped as it always did. To the other, grit and chaos. A battle to the death.
Nearby, Jasmien’s head bobbed, and her moans turned desperate.
“We’re saved,” he said through his tears. “Hold on, love.”
He didn’t know if she could hear him. He could barely hear himself.
Still, he persisted. “There’s so much left for us. Places I promised to take you and seas I swore we’d sail. Remember that island I told you about? The water’s so clear you can see the colors of every fish swimming at the bottom. We’ll sail there as soon as you’re strong enough. We’ll make it our home, and we’ll raise all our children to be as strong as you are. Because you’re strong, Jas. You’ve made it this far. Just a little while longer, and then I’ll make all your dreams come true.”
Jasmien’s mouth shaped words that never came, and her lidless, blind eyes stared without seeing.
“You’re stronger than any storm,” he said, throat tight. “Fiercer than any wave.”
Tristan’s eyelids drooped, heavy. So heavy.
Stay with me, Jas, please.
In the darkness behind his lids, he vaguely registered he’d never said the words aloud, and wherever he was going, that was all right because the pain was distant.
He roused to murmurs and the crunch of boots on sand. The wind smelled like smoke, and when he opened his eyes, it was to black clouds coming from the village.
A dark-skinned man bent over Tristan, large in the middle, broad in the shoulders. “Thought you were dead, mate.”
Tristan opened his parched mouth, but he could only think the words:My wife.
“Let’s get this—” The man yanked the nail out of Tristan’s hand, and a scream shot from him. “—out of you,” the man finished with a grunt. He then tossed the dead pirate off Tristan and spat on the body. “Don’t worry. They’re all dead now. Nothing to worry about.”
“Loto!” another man called from nearby. Tall, bearded, bald.
“Coming, Captain.” He scanned Tristan and shook his head. “You’re just a boy, aren’t you? Shame. You’ve got years ahead to live with this.”
A feeling that had nothing to do with pain stirred in his chest. He was a man of seven and ten, and he wished he had the strength to follow after the man who was already leaving him behind. Tell him?—
Nothing. It didn’t matter. Jasmien mattered. And somewhere on this beach, maybe his parents and siblings were still alive, too. They survived, all of them. Despite the horrors of these recent weeks, they surv?—
“Kill them.”
Tristan turned toward the woman’s voice, heart in his throat. She was young and striking with long black hair and cold black eyes.
The witch stood in front of Jasmien, staring, a knife clutched in her hand.
Jasmien’s jaw bobbed, and air wheezed from her chest.
Everywhere on the beach, men and women began slicing necks open. The man from before—the bald, bearded one—took the life of Tristan’s father and then moved on to his mother.
