Smoke, dense and black, curled up their rigging and masts, cloaking the deck in a dense, black shroud. One second, there were men. The next…nothing.
Only sound. Coughing. Shouts. Panic.
Grappling hooks and ropes arced out of the black cloud?—
Too wide.
Gangplanks splashed into the bay. The planks thatdidland turned into exits, not entrances.
Good. These were numbers Augustus could handle.
Steel rang. Cries rose. Weapons gleamed. Omar’s family came aboard as merchants. They would leave as pirates. They charged in with wild grins and bloody fists, howls as savage as any crew Augustus had ever known.
Augustus let go of all the noise—the bell, the wind, the groan of ships—and gave over to his body’s natural instinct. He turned into every shift of air with arcing steel. Blood sprayed. Bodies became stepping stones.
He savored the burn in his shoulders and the wetness on his face. He inhaled the acrid blend of sulfur and smoke like a drug.
Augustus unleashed every ounce of pent-up rage. For Cassia. For the warning she’d died to give him. For the silence her death carved into him like rot.
The distant boom of cannon fire interrupted Augustus’s murderous haze. His rampage. The sky filled with blue-and-silver sails.
The Perean Navy.
The enemy ship, currently pinned by theEntia’s bowsprit, rocked underhit after hit. Splinters sprayed. Wood cracked and groaned. The injured ship fell toward theEntia. It struck the railing near the bow, splitting the wood.
Augustus swore.
A second burst of cannon fire sounded—close this time.
Augustus ducked as the smoked-out deck of their enemy’s shipexploded.
Splinters shot skyward. Smoke dispersed.
The world held its breath.
Omar’s gleeful shout pierced the quiet. “Yeah!”
This started a chain reaction of cheers throughout the men.
Another explosion shot through the enemy ship’s deck—frominsidethe ship. Purple-sashed bodies soared into the air, hitting masts, tangling in ropes, somersaulting overboard.
Augustus belted out a laugh. “Make trouble, indeed.”
A large bird flapped past his head, and he ducked.
No, not a bird?—
Selene’s dragon. He landed hard on the rail, wings flaring. No trace of his dumb smile or flopping tongue. No bounce. He squawked in rapid bursts.
Augustus had no idea what to make of it. “What’s the matter with you?”
The dragon bit his shirt and tugged.
Irritation swept through him. “Stop that, you?—”
The dragon wailed. His head and neck swiveled toward the docks and back. Then he took to the air, tugging on Augustus’s shirt again.
The truth hit him like a plankboard to the chest. “Selene.”
