Something splashed in the water just off the port. From beside him, Sachia laughed into the wind. “I love when they want to play!” she mused, sprinting back up the steps to where Jonáš waited by the helm. Reid wasn’t certain how Sachia moved so nimbly in the cold, but it was as if the ice in the air didn’t affect her.
Reid’s mother was below deck, and he silently hoped she’d stay there. Another boom sounded, and this time, Reid watched as a cast-iron cannonball hurled toward their ship, his adrenaline pounding—
Midair, the ball flew to the left and slammed through the surface of the sea. Somewhere near the helm, Sachia, arms raised, cackled with pride.
The boat lurched to the side, and Reid stumbled, grabbing ahold of a mast as the ship turned at what felt like an impossible angle. Within moments, their boat was sailing directly at the opposing ship.
“Sachia!” Reid yelled in warning. He took two steps at a time as he ascended to the helm.
She stood with her eyes glued to the Asteryan vessel. Wind lifted her red hair, and a vengeful grin crossed her face.
“Sachia!” he yelled again.
It was a futile endeavor. Sachia was glued to the Asteryan ship, her body taut with rage, her hands shaking as they waited for the next onslaught of cannon fire. A loud boom rang throughthe air, and another cast-iron ball flew toward them. Sweat accumulated on Sachia’s brow, but she lifted her arms and it was as if she’d caught the ball in midair. She flung her strength to the side, and the cannonball followed, drifting past their ship with a splash into the water.
Magic. Over the past few days, he’d learned that Sachia’s strength lay in maneuvering large objects. It was the smaller details she couldn’t manage with precision—locks, buttons, the clasp of a necklace.
Jonáš sprinted up the steps at the same time Reid yelled over the wind. “What am I looking for?”
“Cannons!” Jonáš confirmed.
“I don’t understand!”
“What do they need to power those cannons?” Jonáš asked, his voice booming across the deck just as Koen ran up the stairs to join them.
Reid stared at the boat for a moment, his mind turning. He looked to where the cannonballs fired from and considered the Icrurian weapons he could equate to their Asteryan cannons. They ran on… “Black powder,” he muttered. Then, “Black powder!” he yelled.
“Black. Powder.” Jonáš repeated each word like it was its own sentence, giving a thrilled, toothy grin. “There’s only one thing more valuable during wartime!”
“What’s that?” Koen asked.
Jonáš’s expression darkened. “Revenge.”
Sachia kept her eyes on the opposing vessel. “Don’t you want to know what else is on board, Wolf?”
A part of him felt deeply ashamed at the thrill that coursed in his veins. Yes, he wanted to know. Their boat grew closer, and with each inch, Reid held his breath. They barreled forward, too close now for the cannons to be of any use.The Red Corsairslowed next to the ship, sliding into a parallel position. The menon the rival ship scurried like ants, their shouts echoing in the wild air.
“Let’s go!” Jonáš yelled.
And just like that, members of Sachia’s crew swung from ropes and boarded the mercenary vessel, and the men aboard didn’t stand a chance.
Every member of the mercenary crew fell.
Sachia slaughtered the captain last. He bleated in fear, but she showed no sympathy as she lifted a knife and thrust it into his gut, twisting the blade.
Pirates carried chests of provisions and luxuries across a makeshift bridge. They were incredibly careful with the large wooden barrels that Reid knew contained the explosive material so difficult to find outside Zataar and Icruria. It was one of the advantages they had against the Asteryan forces: The main ingredient in the explosive powder could be sourced along the Sanguine, which Reid had long suspected was part of Vaasa’s father’s attempts to infiltrate eastern Icruria. This substance fueled the most terrifying weapons Reid had ever laid eyes on.
Standing near the edge of the boat, Reid pulled the top off one of the barrels and sucked in a breath, sticking his fingers into the black powdery substance. Far too much of it for the number of cannons aboard. At his side, Koen silently darted his eyes from barrel to barrel, likely doing estimates in his head.
“They were bringing it back to Mekës, weren’t they?” Reid asked.
“Likely from Zataar,” Sachia confirmed as she ambled up next to him. The boat swayed with the tumultuous sea, though the sky itself was merely overcast. Small drops of snow fell in soft movements. Vindication dripped from her easy posture as she looked upon the bodies scattered across the deck. Reidwas numb to such a thing, but he knew Koen wasn’t. When he glanced at his friend, Koen stared down at the body of the captain that Sachia had slaughtered. Reid could imagine what went through Koen’s constantly whirling mind—perhaps the nature of violence or the worth of justice. Koen had ponderings about the world that Reid couldn’t shoulder, and he wondered how his friend kept his spine straight with the weight of all those questions.
“They were one of Sutherland’s crews,” Jonáš said, bringing out papers from the captain’s quarters. Reid only got a glance, but he noticed a torn wax seal of what appeared to be an adorned key.
“Hired by Vlacik?” Sachia asked.
Jonáš gave a sharp nod. “I have no doubts.”
