“You’ve been well cared for,” says Oren. His eyebrows go up and it pulls at the scar. “You claim you’re not having fun?”
I look straight at him. That first night, I was half drowned, but I got him off his feet and put a knife against his chest. I remember the flare of surprise in his eyes, the quick burst of panic. He’s not used to people taking him by surprise, and it was obvious. The other pirates dragged me off him, but for a bare second, I had the upper hand, and we both know it.
It makes me want to grab a knife or seize a crossbow orsomethingthat would demonstrate the weaknesses in the people he has working for him. To poke holes in his confidence. Intheirs. It makes me want to show him I can take the upper hand if I want it.
But I wouldn’t be able to keep it. Not against this many people.
And as much as I hate it, we’re going to need Oren Crane.
“We’ve been locked in a cage for more than a week,” I say. “I’m sorry to report it wasn’t entertaining.”
“I know you have,” he says. “I can smell you from here. But you’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been busy. That prick still has my daughter.”
For a second, I have no idea what he’s talking about.
Then my thoughts catch up, and I’m glad I have years of experience at court politics, because I’m able to keep any hint of surprise off my face.
Oren Crane still believes that Bella, his daughter, is alive.
Instead of at the bottom of the ocean, or in the belly of some whale, or wherever bodies go when they fall off a ship—or when they’reblownoff a ship, as the case may be. She disappeared when two brigantines from Kandala attacked theDawn Chaserwith cannons.
Rian—“that prick”—was keeping Bella prisoner as leverage against this man.
And now he thinks Rian isstillkeeping her prisoner. My thoughts race as I consider how to play this. Lochlan and I hadn’t considered Bella being alive in our strategizing.
But if we’re going to be disparaging against Rian, I’m all in.
“Thatprickkilled my prince,” I say. “If you were busy going afterhim, you shouldn’t have locked us in a cage. We would’ve helped you.”
He bursts out laughing. “I should have brought the prince’s young servant along? Would you have served tea? Buttoned jackets?” He rubs at his throat. “Now that you mention it, I could use a shave.”
I smile. “By all means, bring me a blade.”
“Careful,” Lochlan says under his breath.
But I don’t need to be careful now. This isn’t like the moment when I refused to eat, where Lochlan’s lessons in the Wilds probably did save my life. Now it’s time formylessons. I’ve been dealing with men like Oren Crane my entire life: older and powerful and full of disdain, because they always think they know best. It makes them careless and sloppy, because they’re unwilling to look beyond what they want—but they have too much power to realize just how much of a mess they’re making of everything.
It’s probably the very reason Rian took the throne, while this man is hiding here on this ship, thinking he has a chance at getting it back.
And now I’m going to have to deal with him.
“I wasn’t that kind of servant,” I say.
“Lochlan mentioned that Weston here has otherskills,” Lina says. She presses close to me again, but her voice has turned mocking. “What did you do for your prince, servant boy?” Some of the sailors whistle, so she smiles, encouraged. Her voice drops to a whisper as she traces a finger over my lips suggestively, then moves to stroke a hand down my chest. “What did he like you to do for him?”
I grab hold of her wrist, spinning her around so quickly that I hear muscles tear—or bones crack. She cries out, but I jerk her back against my chest, gripping her throat with enough force that I could break her neck.
But I don’t.
Half a dozen crossbows are pointed at me, but none have fired yet. Most of the men on the deck are staring at me in shock.
I look at Oren Crane. “I killed people.”
Lina is trying to struggle against me, and little whimperedgasps are coming out of her throat. I definitely hurtsomething. I have years of experience with prisoners in the Hold who actually tried to kill me, so I don’t yield an inch. Her pulse pounds fast and hard against my hand, and she’s fighting to inhale.
Beside me, Lochlan is having no trouble. His breaths are coming quickly, like he’s unsure of the path we’ve decided to follow.
I want to kick him.This was your idea!I want to shout.
