She turned briefly toward shore, where theHellish Rebukeloomed in the distance. Its silhouette dark and menacing in the moonlight. Erinna waited a long moment before pivoting back toward camp. She brushed by him, so close her scent of sandalwood and sage consumed him. Lingered even after she had disappeared from view.
Of all the things to happen on this island, Kane did not expect to catch Erinna Yarrow prowling around an old graveyard in the middle of the night. It was quite interesting, indeed.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Air roared across the deck. The gust crashed into Erinna’s chest, knocking her back against the rail with a hard thud. Even Lila winced at the sound Erinna’s body made on impact.
“That was better,” Erinna said through clenched teeth, rubbing her ribs. They were already tender. She would have bright purple bruises in the morning, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to.
“Better?!” Asher cried, eyes wide and incredulous as she glanced from her own hands to Erinna in horror. “I could have killed you!”
The witchstone vibrated in the wood. Everyone took a step back, as if waiting for another strike. The arcanum from Asher’s Talent fought its way into the stone, but only half of it made it in. The rest had ricocheted back at Erinna. A hand-bent silver ring kept the witchstone in place as it strained against the hold.
“When it stops buzzing, try again.” Erinna went to probe her work until Lila’s strong hand gripped her shoulder.
“I think we’re done for the day.”
Erinna tried to shrug off her hold. Since when did she care if Erinna got hurt? “Just a few more tries.” She was so closeto success and, more importantly, closer to answers about her father.
Asher wrapped her hand around Erinna’s own, tugging her away. “You’re bleeding.”
A warm, thick liquid dripped down the side of her face. Erinna reached up to wipe it away, and her fingers came back covered in scarlet. The blast was strong enough to tear at her skin. Erinna wondered if she would need stitches.
“I’m fine…” she started, but both Asher and Lila boxed her between their bodies.
“Erinna, you have two choices,” started Asher. “You go to the infirmary with your dignity intact, or Lila carries you kicking and screaming.”
Erinna opened her mouth to protest until she heard a loud snap of metal followed by a thunk to the ground.
The silver band made from Lila’s werewolf hunting knife had cleaved in two, and the stone fell inert once more.
It failed.Shefailed.
Lila clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists by her side. The precious item she sacrificed was useless.
There was a nudge against Erinna’s back as Asher steered her away. It would be best to put distance between Erinna and the dulled stone. More importantly, it would be better to get her away from Lila.
Erinna wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to give her a shiner. Hells, she wanted to punch herself for such a mistake. She was so sure that combining silver—one of the only metals that could hold at least a fraction of arcanum—with the witchstone would allow Asher to imbue her Talent. Instead, she used up a fine silver weapon for nothing but a flashy failure.
“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Asher whispered, as if sensing Erinna’s rising cloud of disappointment.
“You don’t understand. I need to get this done.” She looked at the calluses and scrapes of her palm, remembering the night she made the deal with Kane. It was the only way she knew to get answers. For any kind of insight on the secrets her father harbored with Kane.
Damien used to say that the answer to most mysteries started with the small secrets. The ones closest to home. A pang of guilt added to her bubbling, emotional cauldron. What would he think of her now? Parading with pirates, committing sacrilege in an attempt to save her father.
“I was wondering when I would meet the famous Tarthan shipwright.”
Erinna blinked in surprise. She had been so lost in thought she barely noticed as Asher led her to the infirmary below deck.
She knew Serg by name, the ship’s doctor, but this was her first time meeting him. Gray dotted the edges of his dark hair, cut close to his head. Faint pale scars decorated dark-bronze skin. A small one on his cheek, a few on his hands and arms. It was usual for the crew members of theHellish Rebuketo carry such memories of violence. The doctor watched her with warm eyes, far too amiable for Erinna’s liking.
He patted one of the two beds, beckoning her to sit and allow him to assess his new patient. She glanced around the small room. It was clean, pristine even, but what surprised her was the lack of antiseptic smell. It was there, faint, masked beneath the scent of warm spices. He must be from one of the southern kingdoms.
“It’s just a cut. All I need is—” She started moving to wipe the blood away, but Serg’s hands pressed against her arm.
“Your hands are covered in dirt and grime. Unless you want to chance a fever.” He pointed to a cleaning kit beside the bed. “May I?”
