Odelia ate it. Like it was a crunchy, butter and honey-soaked piece of toast.
Both of them continue to be amazed that there’s a treasure map on my desk. I fish into my pocket again, chucking Odelia’s hairpin on top of the map. “And she had this.”
Tavi’s eyes grow wide again. “How did she find a place to keep that?”
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter now. At least she’s weapon free—I hope. The pacing begins again. The room suddenly feels smaller. Perhaps I should shift, take some time in the ocean to clear my thoughts.
Tavi gasps, drawing my attention. She’s pointing to the symbol on the map. “That’s—”
Elio’s head swivels to me. He’s seen the symbol too.
I stop pacing, resting both hands on top of my head. “She wants to make a deal. She wants to find the treasure. Half each.”
Elio lets out a crazed laugh. “You said no, right?”
Is there any point responding? Surely the look on my face says it all. How could I not say yes? If there’s the slightest chance of finding answers about my mother. Ineedto know.
Tavi takes a step towards me, her voice softer. “Rune—you can’t trust her.”
My hands slip from my head, and my shoulders lift and fall in surrender. “I can’t not try.”
RUN
5
ODELIA
He never came back.
It’s been two days, if the meals I’m brought are any indication. The pain in my shoulder has faded, though it's blue with bruising. I haven’t seen the cook again, only the man with the close-cropped hair who called Rune away that first night. He doesn’t sit to watch me eat—doesn’t even make eye contact.
The ship moves, then seems to fly and slowly, so slowly, I grow more haunted by the fear. Alone with my thoughts, like Rune intends, no doubt, I can’t help but feel the idea of freedom creep away. If the ocean can smother me so easily, imagine stone. Everyone knows of Stonegallows—the inland mining prison—and its endless hunger for wrongdoers and the wrung out corpses it spits when it’s done. Escape is unheard of. Being trapped there, underground, would be the same death, only slower. I can’t let that happen.
Desperation has me stealing a duragan bone from dinner. The man with the hazel eyes and hair cropped short doesn’t notice. By the time the ship is still again—shouts welcoming itin, commotion above as the ropes are tied—I’ve splintered it in half. They’ll either serve as daggers or lockpicks, depending on what comes first: the navy, or the silence of night.
When the door opens again, I feign sleep, hoping to seem pliant. I don’t expect to fool Rune a second time, but it’s only Bear. He doesn’t try to wake me, instead quietly setting the bowl through the bars. He tugs up his shirt collar as he goes, his steps hardly making a sound.
Traitorous hope flutters in my chest as the evening wears on. If they haven’t called anyone to retrieve me, maybe Rune is considering the deal after all. I don't eat, but at some point, I doze, the constant vigilance requiring it’s due. When I jerk awake, the ship is still. The bowl is gone, but there’s no breakfast in its place. It may be my last chance to escape.
My stomach twists at the thought of leaving the map behind. But even if he’d have agreed to work with me, Rune has made his stance clear: He’d just as soon see me at the bottom of the ocean than trust me—a feeling that goes both ways—and working with him might end up being a race to see who goes back on their word first. Between being free and risking getting locked underground, there’s no contest.
I shift quickly, not allowing my animal form to stay long enough for the cage to overwhelm it. When I’m back in my skin, the manacles are off, and I hold a breath as I step to the lock.
This time, I’m gentle. The bone isn’t quite brittle, but if I snap it inside, I may as well lay down and let them ship me off. Once I’ve angled everything right, a bit of tension leaves my shoulders. With two picks the lock is a breeze, and a thrillraces down my spine as the softclunkof it releasing echoes through my fingers.
This is it. I’ve memorized the map. And since Rune doesn’t know the riddles, there’s no way he can solve them without me even if I have to leave it behind. All that’s left is to get off the ship and away, into whatever wilderness surrounds this town. Once I touch land, I’ll be in the wind. They could search for days—but they won’t be looking for a wood nymph deer shifter.
The gate creaks, so I only push it wide enough that I can slip through and then past the neat rows of barrels and crates. When I move up the stairs, I skip the second step, familiar now with the way it protests under weight. The next floor is empty, lined with polished cannons. Muffled voices above tell me the next floor is occupied, but I square my shoulders and stride up, holding one sharpened bone close to my leg. My heart beats hard in my chest as I rise into a room stuffed with mostly empty hammocks. The crew must be out on the town, enjoying it while they can. There’s movement, but I don’t give the rustling on one side time to register before I’ve flipped around to go up again and through the already opened door in the floor of the deck.
I keep moving. Trying not to draw the attention of the body in the crow’s nest. It’s dark, almost pitch black in the shadows of the torches. Only a sliver of moon lights the sky, but the sea reflects the night’s stars across from a quiet dock. The warehouses are empty, locked up for the night. A lone figure walks past them, coughing into a rag,shoulders hunched.
Soft murmurs drift down from somewhere towards the front ofThe Gilded Hart.Probably whoever was tasked to stay behind to keep an eye on the ship. It doesn’t matter, because if they haven’t noticed me by now, they aren’t going to. I cross the deck on silent feet, double checking behind me as I go.
Until I crash into solid wood.
An arm snakes around my back, crushing me into an unyielding body, but my gasp is cut short as a hand clamps over my mouth.
“Going somewhere?”
