Breathe.
Breathe.
It’s an effort to tuck my muzzle down, to focus on my breath and the distant irritation of my human mind.
When the scent of the straw fades to normal, I open my eyes. It’s a bittersweet relief to see my fingers splayed on the ground. My head still feels heavy, weighted wrong, and when I reach up, a thrill sparks through me. My antlers stayed, a hand’s width tall, coated in crushed velvet.
It never happened in the times before, but it’s not something I can dwell on for now. Shifting doesn’t affect my human form, thankfully, so I keep my clothes, and the bladed pin is still in my hair.
Free of the chains, I snatch it from my hair, then weave my arm through the tight grid around the handle. The pin’s narrow end finds the lock. My dry lips threaten to split, but I can’t help but grin, imagining the look on Rune’s face when he finds the brig empty. Maybe we’ll meet on the deck, and he’ll finally be forced to realise it wasn’t just any Viper he caught. He’ll come to see that his arrogance was his downfall. By then, it’ll be too late, and that annoying smirk won’t be enough to save him.
Time seems to slow, elongate. My wrist aches at the awkward angle, and it only takes me a few minutes to realise this cell is more secure than the one on theSea Bane. A few minutes more, and a lightsnicksends a wave of boiling rage through me before I even look to confirm that the tip of the pin has snapped.
I spin and hurl it with a muffled curse, watching as it bouncesonto the straw.
I stare at it for a moment, trying to drudge up some satisfaction that its end is still wicked sharp, even if it’ll be no use as a pick now.
Instead, exhaustion settles over me, heavy and insistent. I’m going to need a different plan, but first, I need to sleep. I’ll be useless without it—might already be useless, with how I sink down, scooping the small blade and tucking it into my hair. A realization whispers, so soft I barely catch it. I pause, gingerly patting the top of my head.Hmm. The antlers are gone.
BUTTER AND HONEY TOAST
4
RUNE
Morning sunlight is my favourite. I’ve always enjoyed the early tangerine, and salmon-pink rays that appear above the horizon just as the dawn breaks, sending a kaleidoscope of golden tones across the sea. Especially when the tips of the rippling waves catch the sun, turning the ocean into a glittering playground where light dances with the water.
This morning is particularly beautiful. I watch the ocean begin to wake through the round glass window in my quarters. I barely slept all night. Hard to do when your enemy is chained below you in the hold of the ship.
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair, trying to decide what I'm going to do with Odelia. My crew will be expecting me to take her to Goldmere. We’re a week away at least, so I have time, but I still don’t have answers. Before I discard her into the grasp of the law, I need more information, and she is the only one who can give it to me.
But—like most who are brought aboardThe GildedHart—she’s being difficult.
A steaming cup of hot coffee rests on my nightstand. Otto brought it to me earlier. That kid always seems to know what folk need at just the right time. I sip the bitter liquid, savouring the taste as it coats the back of my throat, grateful how it warms my insides just right. Mornings are still cold here in the early spring.
After I finish, I grab my jacket, threading my arms through the dark linen. I don’t bother fastening the gold buttons down the front. Too many layers make me feel constricted. The worn, brass doorknob is cold under my hand as I tug the door to my quarters. I stoop under the wooden frame, closing it behind me with a solid click.
My boots thud against the main deck. The crew is already going about their duties. We have a system, and so far I’ve had no problems with it. Some swab, cleaning the wooden planks to prevent rot and slipping, while others climb to adjust sails and tighten ropes.
We’re stalled in open water, but that doesn’t mean the routine changes.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” Tavi falls into step beside me, her long strides equalling mine. She’s dressed for battle—she always is—in her tight black leathers, matching twin blades carved from steel strapped one on each thigh.
Her long, white hair is pulled back into twists and braids, hanging down the centre of her spine. Ears, pointier than mine, are adorned with a collection of silver hoops, and small bone shards. She likes to wear tiny trophies of her kills on her body, in some form or another.
I twist my head, catching the real question in her emerald eyes. What am I going to do withher. . . the pirate scum.
Odelia’s fiery eyes flash in my mind. Should I admit I have no idea? That for once in my twenty-eight years, I don’t know what path to take? There’s no part of me that should hesitate to take her to the nearest port, but I need answers. Something about the fear in her eyes when I mentioned Stonegallows bothers me, but I can’t put my finger on it. I hate plotting a course when I feel off centre. Would Tavi think I was unfit to be captain because I was stalling? Was that what I was doing?
Seagulls screech above us, while gentle sea breezes tumble over the ship's railing. I stop at the top of the stairs leading down into the hold. Tavi is still expecting an answer.
“I’m going to do what I do with all the pirates we catch.” I grin “I’m going to get information, and then I’ll dump her ass in prison.”
Tavi’s lips form a thin line, like she doesn’t believe me. I know what she prefers I do, but she doesn’t get the final say. I do. With a small nod, she spins on her heel and heads for the ratlines on the mast. It’s her turn to take up residence in the crow’s nest.
I mentally prepare myself for the prisoner below. Hopefully a night’s sleep, and the food Bear took her last night has changed her attitude. Though I could be wishing on those broken stars again.
There’s no point in masking my arrival. I need Odelia awake to answer questions, so I make no effort to soften my steps on the wooden stairs, the sound carrying into the dark hold. My eyes adjust as I near the brig, expecting to see thebrown-eyed woman scowling at me from the corner. Instead, she’s still asleep.
