Vengeance of the Pirate Queen (Daughter of the Pirate King #3)

Chapter 17

AS SOON AS THE crew is safe and long behind us, I say, “I’m not running, but I am taking my hand back.” And I pull my fingers from his.

Threydan lets me go, but he follows my retreating hand with his eyes.

“It will take time for you to get used to me,” he says. “I understand that. But I am a patient man, Sorinda. I have forever.”

I rest my hand on my sword hilt, drawing comfort from the hard steel, yet also disgust from the fact that I can’t feel the cold of it. It should be painful to the touch until the heat of my hand transfers to the metal.

“You could draw your weapon if it would make you feel better,” he suggests.

“What would make me feel better is you putting me back to normal and then releasing me.”

“I already told you I can’t do that.”

“What can you do?” I snap. Exhaustion all but pulls me toward the fluffy snow at my feet. It takes far too much energy just to put one foot in front of the other.

“A great many things,” he says conversationally, ignoring my tone. “I can cook, assuming such things haven’t changed in a thousand years. I am rather good at playing the harp. I can win most drinking games. And …” He pauses to think a moment. “I also have a knack for fishing.”

He turns to me and grins, his blue eyes more intense than ever.

And I can’t say a single thing.

Because those words are so normal . It’s as if he thinks he can convince me he didn’t just threaten my entire crew with an army of undead. An army that appears to be strangely absent for the moment.

I stumble in my next step, and my vision goes dark for a moment.

“You’re wearied,” Threydan realizes. “Here.” He sweeps me off my feet and holds me in his arms as though I weigh nothing. As far as I can tell, he has no supernatural strength, only the ability to not die. He’s simply a rather strong man.

“Put. Me. Down.”

“If you have the strength to make me, I will heed your request.”

I try to push off his chest, but the action has hardly any force behind it. I’m simply too spent, and that terrifies me more than anything else that has happened so far. Threydan could do anything he wanted right now. Including finishing whatever horrible ritual he started.

“Just sleep, dear Sorinda. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“All right, then. Don’t sleep. I order you to stay alert.”

He thinks he’s being funny, but I find no humor in the situation. I try to hold myself away from the bare skin of his chest. To not notice the way it is still as stone, rather than moving with even breaths.

He is just as dead as those corpses he commanded earlier.

My eyes start to drift, but I slam them open. I think of Roslyn and how I have to be strong for her.

Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision, weirdly soothed by the repetitive movement of Threydan’s steps.

Stay awake.

Stay awake.

Stay …

A DREAMLESS SLEEP IS something I haven’t experienced in a long time, and when I rouse myself, I realize that I feel more rested than I have in a while.

Because you’ve never been so exhausted before .

The events of the last few days flood back to me, and my eyes fly wide.

I’m in a dark cavern of sorts, torchlight illuminating the space around me. A downy mattress supports my weight, a soft blanket wraps around my limbs—not that I need the warmth.

As I sit up, my eyes meet the bright, undead gaze of a Drifta man. My heart thuds painfully in my chest as I realize he’s probably been waiting there the entire time I was sleeping. Watching. He stands stock-still until he sees me sit up. He points to a wooden chest on the stone floor before leaving. I look around to ensure no one else is present before opening it.

I’m not sure what I expected inside. A body part? Something taken from my crew to make me behave? Or something equally disturbing that my sleep-addled brain cannot conjure up?

Instead I find clothes. A few simple dresses in designs I’ve never seen before. Pants and shirts that have ties in the front. Sandals with light soles. And … are those bonnets?

I slam the lid closed and stand before marching from the room, stretching the sore muscles in my arms as I do so. More torches line the dark hallways, illuminating my path. I follow the lights through chambers of stone, through empty rooms without so much as a speck of dust to grace them, and then a smell hits me.

Something is cooking.

I finally step into a small kitchen. Some sort of vent in the ceiling allows smoke to be carried out of the room. An open fire sits in the middle, and Threydan is crouched in front of it, turning a few fish skewers. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, and he’s cleaned himself of any blood from the slaughter he wrought among the Drifta.

He looks over his shoulder as I approach. “You didn’t want to change?”

“I want nothing from you.”

He turns back to the fish. “So it’s going to be like that, then? It makes no difference to me what you wear, but I thought you might like to cease smelling of wet campfire.”

I’m sure I reek, but I’ve long since grown used to the smell. And I’m not about to do anything to make me seem more enticing to this man.

He pulls one of the fish from the flames and cuts into it with a knife to examine the meat. “And are you also too proud to accept my food?”

He holds the skewer out to me after deeming it fully cooked.

Saliva floods my mouth. I’m famished again, and now that my body has finally been allowed the sleep it needed, food is all I can think about. I snatch the skewer from him and tear into the fish, not needing to wait for it to cool.

I cannot be burned.

I barely taste it as I eagerly chew and swallow, needing to stop the pain that has returned to my belly.

When I’m done with the first skewer, Threydan hands me another.

And then the final one.

That’s when I remember he doesn’t need to eat. He is truly immortal. Meanwhile, I can still die by hunger.

And thirst.

As soon as I think it, Threydan hands me a cup filled to the brim with water.

I can’t even care if he’s poisoning me right now. I’m too desperate to be full.

“Easy, now,” he says as I chug the water. “You don’t want it to come up again.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, surveying the kitchen around me. “What is this place?”

“When we found this island, we knew it would take a while before we discovered the sirens and the panaceum. This was the shelter we made.”

“You mean you and your crew? The ancestors of the Drifta?”

“Yes.”

“How long did it take you to find it?”

“Over six months.”

“That’s a long time to survive in the bitter cold.”

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t always like this. It was cold, yes, but it wasn’t so frozen. The sirens cursed the land just as they did me before they left. I suspect they thought it would deter future travelers from finding me and waking me. But nothing so silly as snow would ever deter you.”

The food in my stomach starts to turn. “You keep speaking as though you know me. You don’t. You don’t have a claim to me. You must stop this fanciful notion of us .”

He eyes me from head to toe in a way I do not like one bit. “But I do know you, Sora. You are Sorinda Veshtas, the pirate queen’s assassin. You were born the daughter of a rich nobleman, until you lost everything when you were five. But you had your vengeance. You know much in the way of vengeance, as you’ve been dealing it your whole life. I need you to help me with mine next.”

I choke on the next sip of water. I suspected that he was receiving my memories just as I’ve been getting his, but I can’t believe he knows so much so soon.

“It’s your doing, you know,” he says. “When you stabbed my heart, you connected us. I was so entranced by what I saw, that moment when you made your first kill, that I knew we were meant to be. And while we’re on the subject of your memories, we will need to talk about this Kearan lad. He can’t have you, because you’re mine.”

I don’t know which memory of mine made him delusional enough to think that anything is happening between Kearan and me, but he’s as misguided as I once was.

“Those memories were not for you to take.”

“I didn’t take them. I shared them with you.”

“You cannot share them! They’re mine. You shouldn’t have—”

“It’s all right, love. I’ve seen your darkest secrets, and you have noth ing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. You are extraordinary. If anything, I’ve only seen how short I fall compared to you.”

“Stop talking to me like that.”

“Intimacy scares you. I understand, but—”

I leap away from him as he tries to step closer.

“No, no,” I repeat. “You don’t understand. If you did, you would know how wrong all this is. You cannot keep me here. You cannot force me to be with you or to help you with whatever your ridiculous plan is. You cannot take so much from me and then expect me to thank you for it.”

He’s too still as he stands there. Chest unmoving. Eyes unblinking. Not so much as an itch to scratch or a muscle to stretch.

It’s unsettling.

“I am sorry for how this all played out. I cannot help what I am or how our first meeting went. I—”

“That’s a load of shit.” I call him out on it. “You chose to be like this. To fuse with the panaceum so no one else could use it. You chose to kill and to hurt. You may not have chosen the consequences of those actions, but you are responsible for what you are.”

His eyes narrow. “What I did, I did for—”

“Your sister. Yes, I know. I saw. She was in pain, and you wanted to help her. That’s why you sailed this way. But it seemed to me that you lost your purpose along the way.”

He glowers at me. “I never lost my purpose. The second Kayra was born, my life was about her instead of myself. I spent every second of my day with her, ensuring she had everything she needed. I had to witness her in pain day after day. My parents called for the most expensive physicians, but none could find the source of her agony or help to ease it.

“When rumors spread that the king was sending a crew in search of a cure to all maladies, I made sure I was hired for it. We sailed for months before reaching this island, and then we searched even longer for the mystical object that would heal our loved ones.

“I was the one who found it, and do you know what happened when I presented it to the rest of the crew?”

“They tried to take it.”

“They wanted it for the king. They wanted titles and glory and money. All things that a man in power could provide. But I knew what would happen if our monarch got his hands on such a thing. An artifact that can heal any disease or ailment? He would sell cures to the highest bidders, grant longevity to the most important individuals. The rich would live forever, and people like my sister would be utterly forgotten and alone.

“So I ran. I kept it, and yes, I made it a part of myself so it would be mine to share with those who truly needed it. The poor. The desperate. Those who are in pain. Those who need relief. And do you know what happened next?”

I shake my head slowly.

“The sirens found out I had taken it. My crew was quick to lay all the blame on me, and since I could not be killed or harmed, they did the next best thing. They cursed the land to bring forth snow and ice. Then they cursed me to sleep until I was woken. Cursed me to live in an icy tomb until my sister was dead and all those I wanted to help were gone.”

The siren was as beautiful as she was dangerous. Her hair was white as snow, as were her lips. She was naked as she walked toward me, rising out of the ocean, her charm trailing behind her.

I did not know true terror until that moment.

Her voice grated on my ears like a hailstorm battering the roof of a house. “You will sleep until all those you love are gone, Threydan. You will live without living until you are woken. I hope the moment does not come until the end of time.”

And then there was music. The most beautiful, painful music that made me want to weep.

Then nothing.

“I’m awake now, Sorinda,” Threydan says, pulling me out of the memory. “Everyone I’ve ever known is gone, save you. Do you know what it is to sleep for a thousand years, dreaming of the world passing you by? It was agony, but I held out hope that one day I would rise again. One day, I could claim vengeance on the sirens who did this to me, all because I wanted to help the less fortunate.”

His eyes bore into mine. “You are my only hope. If I get too close to the sirens, they will only put me back to sleep. But you? You are immune to their songs as a woman. You can get me my vengeance, and then we can rule these lands however we see fit. I had one life taken from me, but I will not lose another.”

My head buzzes with all the new information. Threydan waits for me to say something, but I have to tread carefully. I cannot anger this man past his point of tolerance. He holds all the power. The power to kill my crew. The power to help us off this place. The power to turn me into some deathless creature like him.

But anger simmers within me, an anger so fierce I can actually feel the heat of it within my changed body.

I say, “Bad things happened to you out of your control. I know what that is.”

“I know you do,” he says.

“But you are trying to take away my choices, and that is not something I can forgive.”

“I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I brought you here so you could learn the truth and make the right choice. We know naught except for what this bond has shown us of each other. Let us take the time to really get to know each other. Then you can decide what you want, but I’ve already seen enough of you to know exactly what I want.”

To his credit, he keeps his eyes on my face, but I still feel his eagerness to look me over.

I narrow my eyes. “And afterward, should I decide that I still do not want to be a part of your plans, am I to believe you will release me?”

He doesn’t even give the words consideration. “You will make the right choice. I have every confidence. Let us not dwell on the alternative. You must have questions for me. Let me answer them for you.”

He already did. The only answer that I needed. Threydan professes to be a good person who was wrongfully hurt. But he clearly thinks his own agenda is more important than anyone else’s. He doesn’t care about who he hurts. Maybe his initial intention was to save his sister and make the panaceum available to all. But he has no such motivation now. He has no one to look out for save himself.

And me. Because he needs me in order to achieve his plans.

And I need time to form a plan of my own.

“If the panaceum’s powers can be shared with whomever you choose, then surely you can put me back to normal? Choose a woman who would relish in eternity and being by your side. Surely that’s what you want. Someone who wants you, too?”

I don’t know what nonsense I’m spouting, only that I hope it will get through to him.

“The process has already begun, Sorinda. It can only be finished.”

“But you intended to use the panaceum to help lots of people. Can’t you make someone else immortal to be with you?”

Threydan looks at the ground beside his bare feet. He still hasn’t bothered with shoes or a shirt. Is that how the men during his time dressed? What place was he from that it was so hot he couldn’t be bothered to cover up? Or does he simply prefer to wear so little? To prove that he’s not afraid of anything? Not the elements and certainly not a blade.

“The full powers of the artifact could have been shared freely once. Before I had to make the difficult choice to fuse with it. It can still be used to heal whomever I wish. I’ve already done so with that nasty gash on your cheek.” My hand involuntarily flies up to my face. I had forgotten all about the injury. “But I can only make one person immortal as I am. I intended that person to be my sister. Now that she’s gone, I’ve chosen you. You are my savior. My resurrector. My equal. Together we can live forever and do whatever we wish.”

And yet, still he says nothing of his cause to cure the sick and heal the wounded. No, he healed me because he needs me. Or perhaps he did not want my face to scar. Either way, he speaks nothing of a cause to aid those who are in need. If that was ever truly his motivation, it clearly isn’t any longer.

My face doesn’t alter at each new realization he gives me. If anything, I try to soften my features. But I don’t know the first thing about that. I’m sure I look like I sat on something sharp.

“You said you fused with it?” I ask. “What exactly did you do? Swallow it?”

Threydan shrugs. “I knew I could not die, so I cut open my flesh and inserted the panaceum within.”

My eyes rove over his body, looking for some telltale lump to suggest where it might be. When I get up to his face, I notice he’s smiling at my inspection.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“If you are thinking of trying to cut it out of me, it will not work, fierce Sorinda. Many have tried and failed. I cannot be parted from it.”

If I was thinking of cutting it out of him? Certainly, I was.

“How big is it?”

He brings his thumb and forefinger together to make a circle. “Like this.”

“Sounds like it was painful.”

“It was at first, but I cannot feel pain anymore.”

No pain. What is that like?

“At all?” I question. “Not even the pain of losing your sister?”

At that, his smile drops. “No physical pain,” he amends.

Ah. “So you’re to live for eternity with the pain of loss. Doesn’t that frighten you?”

He shrugs. “Why should it? I will live forever. I will have plenty of time to make a new family. Make new friends. I will have more people to care for me than ever before.”

The more he talks, the more I realize how much my capacity for hate can grow. Everything is about him and how he feels. People are replaceable.

Has he always believed this? I felt his love and devotion to his sister when I saw his memories. Was she the exception? Or has time changed him? Or perhaps the panaceum, an item that changes you physically, is also capable of changing who you are on the inside. If so, what would long-term exposure to such a thing cause?

And since it’s already made changes to me, am I in danger of losing who I am, too?

The thought is more terrifying than anything else. I am deadly as is, but what if I had no conscience? What would the panaceum have me do for the rest of my days? A killer who is unkillable?

I can’t allow that to happen.

“But you will continue to lose everyone forever,” I say. “You will live while everything else grows old and passes on.”

“Except for you,” he says, his eyes heating. “Everything except for you.”

I try not to grimace at the words, but he must see it.

“You cannot fathom anything more than one life because it is all you expected, but you must learn to see the greater possibilities, Sorinda. You must imagine all the good you could do with immortality. Imagine a life where you can fulfill your every whim because no one can stop you.”

My every whim?

No.

I live for others because my sins are unforgivable. I serve Alosa because she is good and will keep me on the right track.

Anything else is unthinkable.

“Good, you are considering the possibilities,” he says, misinterpreting my silence. “That is all I can ask for today. That you just consider what we could do. Now then, do you have any questions about me? Not what I can do but who I am? Please, Sorinda, just get to know me. I know you’ll like what you learn.”