“Some might say you have poor judgment,” I whispered.
She shrugged, taking the spyglass from my hands and raising it to her eye.
“Some can go straight to hell for all I care,” she said. “Did you happen to order a rather large ship with a British flag?”
And just like that, my heart fell straight into my stomach as Val grinned and handed me the spyglass.
The Bane.
Chapter eight
Oblivion
Bash
Oblivion is not granted here. It is earned, one blow of the hammer at a time.
— Prisoner’s Proverb
Sweat dripped down my face, but I loved every fucking second of it. The sound of my hammer against the sword was music to my ears. It meant that Billy was quieter, and I could stop worrying for ten minutes at a time. I’d get about as long as it took for the steel to cool. If my hammer was lifting and falling, my mind was quiet.
Which is why the sword lost its fire. Billy was loud.
Aye, you worry worse than a jellyfish at low tide. The Hellcat can take care of herself.
“I know that!” I slammed my hammer down.
Frustration blew through me hotter than the steam of the forge. Just a few weeks ago, I could barely lift this hammer, but now I was fighting back the restraint not to throw it through the fucking door. The guards wouldn’t thank me for it, and Edmonds would throw me back in my cell night and day. That was a fate worse than any I could immediately conceive.
It still stung to go back at the end of the day, but at least sleep found me quickly until it was time to go back to the forge. Sometimes I would torture myself by wondering what the weapons I created would be used for, but morals like that were a luxury. I knew Edmonds gave me this position because it amused him to give me a weapon and watch me fail to use it. It meant he didn’t understand me yet.
If he did, he would have known I never intended to escape this prison. The moment Oscar was gone, I could accept my fate. He would take Rose and carve the mark I knew she took from her chest. They would have to claim burns, and it would be a shame to mar her perfect skin, but it was better than Edmonds sniffing at her feet and threatening the gallows.
You’re being paranoid, ain’t no one sniffing anybody.
I lowered the anvil with as much force as I could muster, hoping it would erase Billy’s voice from my mind and living in terror that I wouldn’t hear it again. The conundrum of a madman.
“I’ll add more coal!” the boy said.
I’d forgotten he was there. When there was already company inside your mind, the outside was all a bit quieter. I watched as the boy with sandy brown hair and sad eyes shoveled more coal into the furnace of the small forge. Only ten feet across, it was small, but effective. It only meant that with every added coal, more sweat dripped down my neck.
Just last night, three souls had perished in the cold in the large, round room where they tossed prisoners. Sweating in Newgate was a privilege.
“That should do it,” he hummed.
He held out the bellow, pointed it at the fire, and blew steady air, encouraging the coal to light. It was a wonder he had any upper-arm strength since he was built like a twig. Sure enough, after a few pumps of his arm, his chest rose and fell quicker, and he began panting.
“I got it,” I said, taking it from him.
“But, sir, that’s my job,” he said. “Plus, your–”
He was covered head to toe in soot, his green eyes pale, and his face thin. He looked like he needed a good meal, not manual labor. I didn’t need him to finish his sentence to know he was concerned about my lack of arms.
“It’s fine,” I said.
His thin lips turned down, and he watched me like he might argue more, but exhaustion pulled at his eyes. I was learning well enough to cope with one arm. The stone anvil was designed to hold the sword in place while I hammered it, and as for the bellow–well, I could figure it out.
“Go sit down. You should sleep,” I said.
