“A pirate?” Koen ventured.
The woman grinned with the sharpness of a dagger. “Call it what you will.”
“One who speaks Icrurian?” Reid asked.
“Apparently.”
Behind him, his mother shuffled. Out of options, Reid felt himself being backed into a corner. He turned, gripping the merchant on his shoulder and spinning so he was behind him. He placed his dagger at the hollow of the merchant’s throat.
The remaining men around them began to react, but before they could counter Reid, something hummed. Rattled, Reid realized. The vessel vibrated beneath his feet. A dozen or so rusted nails pulled from the wood making up the hull of the ship, lifted by some invisible force. The boards to his left shifted. Panic seared through Reid as the nails turned all at once, sharp edges pointed at them, and his eyes widened when he realized what had moved them.
Or who.
The pirate stood with her hands raised, the iron nails at her command. She said something in Asteryan, and the merchant shook uncontrollably in Reid’s arms, seemingly more afraid of her than he was of the knife at his throat. He began to blubber in Asteryan, and Reid pressed his knife harder into skin.
“You’re a witch,” Reid said in Icrurian. “An Imros witch.”
Hailing from Sigguth, Imros was the goddess of ore. Reid had met a few of the Imros coven in his life, but none as powerful as this woman seemed. To manipulate metal with such precision was more than magic—it was a gift.
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “And you are?”
Reid’s mind ticked like a clock. He had two options: Stay and die or find a way off the ship. Without another word, Reid sliced his knife across the merchant’s throat. The man sank to the ground with a wretched gurgling sound. Blood oozed along the rickety wood at Reid’s feet. The three men around them began to react, but before their screams could fill the air, black mist covered their noses and throats, plunging down their airways until the remaining crew fell wordlessly—lifelessly—to the deck.
The only person Melisina spared was the Imros witch. The confidence in the pirate’s green eyes stuttered for only a moment, but the flash of fear had been there. She did not release the rusted nails, her fingers growing wider in what Reid thought was an attempt to contain the magic. He realized she shook with the effort. Untrained, then.
“Who. Are. You?” she demanded. This time, there was an edge to her voice.
“Icrurians,” Melisina said, stepping out from behind Reid and raising her chin with pride. Mist still danced along her wrists and arms, spreading to the floor below and coating it like fog.
The two women filled every crevice in the space, their magic pulsing around the vessel like music whorling through the air. It was a sight to behold; Reid had scarcely seen Veragi magicintertwine with that of another coven. Only the witches of Una, and even that was a rarity.
“Drop the nails or we all drown,” Melisina said.
The witch paused, but within two breaths, the nails clanged onto the floor.
“You paid him salt. She wields Veragi magic. Mirehans?”
Reid nodded, but didn’t expand any further. Piracy was a wicked game, and he knew better than to reveal himself to someone who only honored a code among their crew.
“Well, best of luck,” the pirate said casually, then she swung with one arm back onto the ladder and climbed.
Reid’s jaw dropped, and Koen burst forward, hollering for her to wait. Reid followed him up onto the main deck, eyes widening as multiple people pilfered through anything available. Reid scanned his surroundings until he finally found the red-haired pirate. She swung from rope to rope like the ship was nothing but a playground, preparing to leap to her boat. Behind Reid, his mother emerged, hands grasping the bags of salt that Reid had given the merchant for his discretion. Blood was smeared on the outside of the canvas, but Melisina didn’t seem to mind.
“Hey, you want these?” she called to the pirate.
The woman turned over her shoulder, dangling from one of the ropes, her braids flying in the wind. She swung loosely for a moment, as if unsure, but then turned her body and swung her weight back, the rope propelling her toward them. She landed and uncurled to her full height. “What exactly is your proposal?”
“Take us into the Iron Bay,” Koen said, “and this salt is yours.”
The pirate lifted her brow. “I’m not a guide.”
The boat tipped, and Reid had to grip a stanchion in order to stay upright. Urgency stole his better senses. “What do you want?” Reid said, stepping forward. “If you get us there safely, whatever it is, it’s yours.”
Scrutiny seemed to come easy to the witch. She looked Reid up and down, the telltale signs of plotting swirling in the green of her eyes. “What sort of person makes a promise like that to the likes of me?”
“Someone who can make good on it.”
A slow smile spread across her face. Deliberation didn’t stain it, though, her eyes catching again on the bags of salt. “Why don’t you come aboard and we can discuss terms?”
