“I do apologize,” Uirbrig continued, his voice rising over the siblings’ protests. “This is all going to be rather uncivilized. But as I said to your father, Iama man of action. Of the here and now. This is, regrettably, necessary.”
Emment was trying to shake off his captors. Llir’s mouth opened; Vercha went even paler.“Scum,”Catua bit out savagely, her voice shaking, but Uirbrig ignored her, turning to watch Rexim’s progress.
Iovawn Crake was lurking nearby, shrug shouldered like a vulture, overseeing the proceedings. At his father’s order, at the words that followed, I thought I saw surprise flicker faintly on his face…but a second later, all trace of it was gone.
“Take me instead,” Emment choked, stepping forward. The woman in plate yanked him back with a grunt. “Take me, and let my father live. Hells know I deserve it.” His voice cracked miserably. “More than any of the rest of them.”
My fingers pressed the ledge until they hurt. My chest burned horribly. He thought he was a killer.
“If you spare him, and the others”—Emment glanced at his siblings—“my father will agree to step aside as a candidate. No one has to know about any of this.” He looked to his father, face drawn in desperation, but Rexim, implacable, merely shook his head narrowly. Emment seemed to crumple, swaying where he stood.
Uirbrig chuckled. “Noble sentiments. I’m impressed. But you see, your father’s a sensible man. This is simply the way it has to be.”
I sensed Zennia shift beside me as Rexim was forced to kneel before the block. “Corith,” she murmured, a barely there warning. “Don’t look.” But I couldn’t drag my eyes from the ward.
“Stop!” came a high, brittle voice. It was Vercha. She was stiff-backed, staring at Iovawn Crake.
He met her gaze. Something passed between them. The others didn’t see it; they were distracted, devastated.
Iovawn said something inaudible to his father, but Uirbrig ignored him, a smile on his face. Uirbrig raised a hand, gestured to his soldiers, and one of them hefted a greatsword above his head.
As the siblings’ cries pierced the air below me, I felt a hot, sick lurch and turned away, squeezing my eyes shut. But I’d forgotten to stop up my ears with my fingers, so that when the noises came—a horrible slicing, a meaty thud mingled with Vercha’s raw screams—they cut right through me, making me dizzy.
I knew I would never forget those sounds.
Then I felt Zennia’s warm hands on me, heard her voice in my ear: “We have to go. Now.”
I shrugged her away. Uirbrig was speaking again, his throaty voice raised over the siblings’ sobs.
I dragged myself up just enough to see them but angled my face to block out the platform. Black spots swam in my vision like flies.
“Now,” said Crake, pacing into my eyeline, “here’s what’s going to happen next. I need to get off this godsforsaken island, share the unfortunate news of your father’s run-in with the Cage. I’m told your Morning Tide—is that what you call it?—will be heading for the mainland before too long. I want us to be just ahead of it. We’ll turn south, move over Cormorant land.”
I couldn’t see the fog-cloaked bay from here but knew the Waking Tide would be receding by now.
“But before that, you, my noble friend”—Crake was pointing a finger at Emment—“are going to tell me, right now, where your family keeps your hoard. I know it’s hidden somewhere on this island, and I know your father hasn’t sold it off. You know as well as I do that’s a last resort. The greatest of shames among the Hundred.” He grinned, showing small yellow teeth. “It’s not in your cellars—your coffers are too bare. Many families stash it away somewhere secret. I’m on a deadline here, so I’m going to need your help.”
I looked at Emment, who was hollow eyed, haunted. His expression flickered with uncertainty for a moment, then his shoulders stiffened, his features closed tight.
“If you’re so foolish as to decide not to cooperate, I’m afraid we shall have to take measures to persuade you. And your dear siblings, if required.”
A weighty silence. Uirbrig sighed. He crooked a finger, and Emment was dragged forward. The Shearwater heir offered little resistance.
I barely caught Uirbrig’s next signal: a twitch of his chin, directed at his soldiers. As one of them hauled Emment’s tall frame straight, another delivered a roundhouse crack to his jaw.
Catua cried out. Llir’s eyes closed briefly.
Emment grunted, spat on the ground, but this time it was blood that stained the cobblestones.
“Feeling any more amenable?” Uirbrig’s tone was feather-light.
“Rot in hells,” came Emment’s drawl, his words slurring, his body listing.
All Crake did this time was glance at his soldiers. Another plated fist smashed into Emment’s face. I sagged again and turned, staring at the opposite wall.
“Corith.” Zennia’s voice was distant, buzzy. “Surely you don’t want to stay to see this? We have to get back. In case they decide to search the towers.”
A roaring sound was filling my head, Uirbrig’s words bubbling up beneath it:“I need to get off this gods-forsaken island…Your Morning Tide…I want to be just ahead of it.”
