Duveau lowers his voice. “You will get more as soon as I send word to the rest of the fleet. Once I’m on the ship with the girls, I’ll know you’re worth your word.”
Her eyes flash dangerously, but she makes no further argument. Finally, with a begrudging nod, she takes a step back. Mr. Duveau’s eyes immediately find mine. “Move!” he shouts, thrusting his revolver at my sister.
Amelie jumps, and I whirl around, nudging her with my elbow to follow suit. We begin to walk in the opposite direction toward the other end of the crumbling wall. Progress is slow as each step is mirrored by our circle of guards, who maintain an uncomfortable proximity at all times. The only benefit to our pace is that it gives Aspen more time to find us.
Then again, do I even want him to find us? Now that we’ve awoken the entire camp, there’s no way he could make it out of here alive.
Aspen,I send down the Bond.Don’t come here.
I hear nothing in response, filling my heart with dread.
As we reach the end of the wall, the ground shifts to a decline where old stone steps lead the way down the side of the cliff beneath the lighthouse. With the morning sun beginning to rise, I get my first glimpse of the sea. It spreads out below us, beneath the cliff. And not too far from the beach is a massive black shape. A warship. Additionally, dozens of soldiers pace the beach, some guarding a smaller sea vessel while others offload the crates it carries, crates of what I can only imagine are weapons.
I nearly trip on the next step and force my eyes to return to the crumbling stairs.
“What’s going on?” Amelie whispers.
“No talking,” comes Duveau’s voice from behind. Even though I can’t see his revolver, I can feel its presence all the same, nipping my heels, dragging invisible black claws down my sister’s spine.
Once the stairs meet sand, I catch yet another sight of the warship, a hulking mass far more terrifying than the broadsheets depicted. Its body is long and angular, smoke billowing into the air while impossibly tall, slim towers pierce the sky. The deck is lined with turrets armed with enormous guns, ones I never wish to see fired.
I shudder at the sight. War on the mainland always seemed like a faraway thing, something that could only ever involve the larger landmasses and countries, never the Fair Isle. But here it is, lurking outside my isle. My home.
We continue forward, our guards ushering us toward the smaller boat. A pair of soldiers offload the last crate, leaving the sea vessel mostly empty, aside from two men who stand at what must be the helm. The levers and mechanical panels tell me this boat is unlike anything I’ve seen before; its technology is likely closer to that of the warship. At a nod from Mr. Duveau, one of the boat’s operators turns to the controls, and the vessel roars with the deafening sound of a motor coming to life.
“Get on the boat,” Mr. Duveau orders.
My heart races as Amelie and I obey, my mind spinning to find a way out of this. But every move I can think to make only ends in Amelie’s death. And my own.
Once we reach the center of the boat, Mr. Duveau orders us to face him. I steel my nerves as we slowly turn around. Fury rushes through my veins at Duveau’s triumphant grin.
“What will you do with us now?” I ask. To my credit, my voice somehow manages not to shake.
“You’re coming with me back to the mainland,” he says. “And don’t even bother with fantasies of escape. Unlike your little friends, you’ll find your new guards far less lax.” Another reminder of the rifles still pointed at us, unwavering in the hands of the soldiers.
“What then?” I ask, if only to keep him talking. Anything to give me more time to think of something. Anything. I still have my fire. It may be weaker than I’d like, but it’s there, hovering just below the surface of my skin. I know how to shape it with air. Know how to manipulate the metals of earth. That’s got to be worth something, right?
Mr. Duveau hazards a quick glance behind him. My eyes flash over his head, where I see two sets of guards heaving our tubs down the steep steps below the cliff. He’s waiting for them before we depart.
Good. That means I still have time.
“There I will present you and your sister to King Grigory, show him I alone was able to apprehend the two girls who put the treaty in jeopardy.”
Half my mind analyzes his words, while the other half assesses our surroundings, the space between me and Amelie and our armed guards. I quirk my lips in a teasing grin. “Trying to save face for the blunders you made?”
His expression darkens. “Those weren’t my blunders. Those were yours. You nearly ruined everything.”
I bat my lashes, shaping my next words carefully. I know they’ll put me on thin ice, but I need to rattle his confidence without inviting deadly reproach. “Sounds likeyourblunders, if a single girl could upend your standing with the King of Bretton so easily.”
“Shut up,” he says through his teeth, face flushing crimson. “You know nothing. I tried to fix everything a different way, but those attempts proved fruitless.”
The memory of the thief sent to my palace comes to mind. “You mean the weapon you tried to steal? How was that going to fix anything?”
He purses his lips, studying me for a moment. “You do have it, don’t you? It’s still at Irridae just like I thought, isn’t it?”
Heat flushes the back of my neck as I consider it may not have been the wisest to bring up the Parvanovae. A quick change of subject is in order. “And now you’re making a deal with the fae in order to make up for your failures? How’s that going to work?”
He regathers some of his composure. “Your enemies are my allies because we want the same thing. Peace on the isle.”
