Selene turned her face toward the breeze, welcoming the sting of salt and wind. As she scanned the horizon, a question gnawed at her—she’d been wanting to ask Thorne for days.
“Where’s your pet?”
She had no idea what the bird was or why it had seemed so close to Thorne, but it had been frightening enough to star in a few of her nightmares. Every day, she expected it to land beside her and start plucking at her eyes.
Thorne lowered his pipe and scanned the sky. “Vorash don’t favor thesea,” he said. “It comes and goes as it pleases. Don’t worry…he’ll be back once we’re on dry land.”
“Can’t wait.”
Ignoring her comment, he motioned her nearest guard over—a small man named Alf with eyes too big for his face, and clothes two sizes too large.
“Remove her cuffs,” Thorne said.
Selene’s mind raced with what to do with this turn of events. Unlocking her would be a mistake; he had to know that.
The painful ache in her shoulders upon release provided a decent argument to the contrary. She could barely move.
“Can you stand?” Thorne asked.
Previous arrogance stilted, she eased to her feet and took stock, noting where she was stiff and which parts tingled with renewed blood flow. By the time she was fully upright, she decided she could run if given an opportunity. And once her shoulders worked out their stiffness, she could swim—not well or fast, however.
There was just one problem: there wasn’t a spec of land in sight. For the time being, she was stuck here.
Thorne dragged from his pipe and blew the sweet smoke in her face. “Better?”
“I could use a hot bath.”
“Couldn’t we all?” Belatedly, he released a smile that sent a chill across her skin. In a blink, he thrust her back against the mast and held her low on the throat. She could breathe, but barely. “I am a patient man, Selene, but never mistake that for mercy.”
Selene had been on the other end of madness enough times to know when to remain silent.
“I offered you the courtesy of yourlife,” he said. “A modicum of trust.”
His crew was beginning to arrive on deck, rumpled from sleep. Strangely, though, several had blood on their clothes. She spotted a black eye here and there. Smears of blood on their skin. They looked as though they’d been through a hard-fought battle. A recent one.
“I expected more…honestyfrom you.” Thorne brought his face near hers and flashed his teeth. The smoke on his breath made her dizzy. “I’d expect this sort of betrayal from Augustus. You’re supposed to be the good one.”
Her heartbeat was a drum in her ears.
“Augustus is the liar, the scoundrel,” he continued. “But you… You’re the martyr. The little flame he follows, while holding the sea back so you won’t get doused. I think he’s been doing it for so long now that you’ve forgotten… You’re not as clever and untouchable as you think.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been preparing for this war for far too long to let two little girls get in my way.”
Twogirls? Was he seeing double?
Thorne released her with a hard shove and spun around. “Bring her out.”
More men emerged from the ship’s bowels. They threw a figure onto the deck—small, bloodied, her brown hair in wet, matted ropes. A groan. A curl of a familiar voice. Then Selene knew.
Petrina.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Thorne said. “I’m going to take care of this little problem, and you’re going to watch. Then, when it’s over, you’ll understand the seriousness of your situation.”
He made a circular motion with his finger, and several crewmen descended on Petrina, lifting her to her feet. Her head bobbed up and down, and only one of her eyes stayed open. Whatever they’d done to her, she had no fight left.
“She’s barely even conscious,” Selene snapped, stepping forward into a pair of bracketing arms. “What are you doing?”
