The lifeless body falls to the wooden floor. I blink. Exhale. Mind empty, I go to retrieve my blade. I wipe the blood off on the kid’s dirty tunic. Sheathe it back in its place.
I’m grateful the mask covers my face so Daegel doesn’t see the war that wages in my features as I follow him out of the galley.
“Some kills are harder than others, sweetheart.” Dad’s eyes were sad that day.
Just like my heart.
I looked at my bloody palms. I was fifteen, right after one of the exams during my Decarios training program. To pass, I had to kill another trainee. Someone I’d spent years training shoulder to shoulder. Someone who was a year younger than me.
“Those hardest kills are ones that shape you the most. You have to be extremely careful about the way you allow yourself to be shaped,” he said.
I nodded, even if I didn’t understand it well then.
But oh, now that I’m an adult, and have killed plenty, I understand.
Once everyone on this floor of the ship is dead, we make our way to the next set of stairs.
Just as I put my foot down on the second step, the shouts reach my ears. Clash of the blades follows.
It’s coming from the deck. The other team is on the ship, too.
Daegel runs up the stairs, and I follow him closely. My heart thrashes, adrenaline that courses through my veins making every sense of mine heightened.
We emerge from the stairs to be greeted by the battle in full swing. About two dozen pirates sway their firsts and swords at the greatly outnumbered Ezkai.
With their masks, I don’t know who’s who that well. But I recognize Roman from his tall and lean frame, brawling withtwo pirates, an Ezkai Xander fighting on the other side of the deck, swinging his broadsword against three pirates with curved blades.
With a roar, a stalky dwarf charges at me. I unsheathe two blades and flip them in my hands before one lands in his chest, while the other finds home between his eyes. I’m at his side, pulling my blades out before his cold body hits the damn floor.
I glance around. More pirates are pouring in from the dock and from the captain’s quarters.Ah, there he is.
The man of the hour.
It’s not V. But I knew that already. I would have recognized his ship, I have it memorized by heart.
This pirate, whose name is still a mystery, wears a very dramatic bloodred hat with a matching plume.
I fight off another attacker as I consider the best course of action. I could be much more useful if I could use my bow.
With that thought in mind, I run for the shroud in the middle and quickly climb by way up until I reach the crow’s nest.
A petite fae swings her curved blade at me the moment I step foot on it. I arch my back just in time to avoid it. It misses the tip of my nose by mere inches.
Before she can take another swing, I shove her away. She stumbles backwards, hits the edge with the back of her thighs, and with wide eyes full of fear, falls over the edge to her death.
I hear the crack of her neck as she hits the deck below us even from here.
Quickly, I draw my bow from my shoulder, and it purrs in my mind. Its reaction to the violence around us sends a shiver down my spine.
I crack my neck to shake it off and draw the first arrow.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Let go.
One by one, I take out the pirates below. They fall like flies as my arrows strike true.
