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

Chapter 23

I LEAP FOR THE stairs leading belowdecks before I remember I’m injured. Maybe I pass off my scream of pain as a battle cry. Luckily, Kearan beats me to the stairs, so he doesn’t see the way I lean against one of the walls when I make it to the bottom. The way I have to pause to catch my breath. To process what has happened.

I killed all those Drifta belowdecks after first boarding the ship.

Threydan has risen them again.

He must be close.

The undead are swiping at mothers holding children, charging at the elderly, pinning men in place. Each has Threydan’s bright blue gaze. I lock eyes with one, holding that glowing stare, and I swear I see those eyes move down to the belt keeping my insides together.

I take out that undead first.

He doesn’t even move as I get within range with my rapier, slicing him to ribbons. He stares at my face, then down to the belt again. I realize then that blood is seeping out from under my makeshift tourniquet.

I’m going to lose energy fast, so I have to be quick.

I slice through muscle and tendon, rendering the undead useless. There’s only a handful of them in this room, and I can’t imagine what Threydan plans to do with so few. Perhaps slow us down, even if it’s just a little.

Kearan is right beside me, fighting off his own undead. Many of my girls have followed us, and they join the fight without question, making me proud.

And then the floor moves, and I’m jerked off my feet.

I realize a moment later that the floor didn’t move. Rather it stopped moving. The undead lowered the anchor.

Oh no.

The fall jostles my belt, and I can’t move for a moment, so I just yell weakly, “Capstan!”

A combined group of Drifta, my girls, and the crew of the Wanderer all rush for the stern of the ship, where the mechanism that controls the anchor is housed.

“Are you okay?” It’s Kearan’s voice, but I don’t seem to have the energy to move my head in his direction.

“I’m fine,” I say from the floor. My torso throbs unbearably, and I try to calm my breathing.

And then a shadow is thrown over my form as Kearan kneels before me.

“What is that?” he asks, his voice almost too low for me to hear. He points toward where the blood is escaping from my body.

“Stab wound,” I answer.

His large hands hover over the belt, but he dares not touch me. “How bad is it?”

“Goes in one side and comes out the other.”

“And you’re still fighting?”

“I’m not dead yet.”

“Of all the stubborn—” He adjusts the belt, cinching it tight over the wound once more and ignoring my scream of pain. Kearan hauls me into his arms, and I gasp as the wound is jostled again. “Iskirra! Captain down! Iskirra!”

His voice has turned desperate, haunted. I don’t like the sound of it.

“I’m okay. We just need to get the anchor up and then we can flee. We can still make it. Put all our efforts into getting the ship running again.”

“Save your breath,” he says to me as he takes the stairs at a near run.

“Just help me stand. I can keep going.”

He glares at me. Glares . Like I’ve said something incredibly stupid. “You’ve given enough. Now let your crew take care of you.”

“I’m the captain, and I order you to put me down.”

“You’re injured, Captain. That means I take orders from Dimella now. Iskirra!”

“Enemy behind us!” comes a shout from a little voice high up in the crow’s nest. Roslyn has clearly taken the liberty of keeping a lookout for us.

Kearan turns toward the stern with me in his arms. There’s a churning in the water now, as though the undead are gathering together, and they’re moving closer.

“Get the ship moving again!” I try to shout, but the words don’t come out as strongly as I intend. “He’s coming.”

Kearan swears.

More than half the crew has gone below to help fight against the dead, yet—“Why is it taking so long?” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

Dimella must hear Roslyn’s call, because she races up top to get a look at the oncoming enemy for herself. She sees Kearan holding me.

“Captain down,” he says to her. “You’re in charge now, and we need a healer immediately.”

“I can still captain this ship,” I argue.

“You can’t even stand,” he bites back.

“Because you won’t put me down!” I want to stick him with a knife, but I haven’t the energy to reach for one right now.

“I’ll get Iskirra,” Dimella says, returning to the hatch.

“Find out what the holdup is!” I shout after her.

Kearan looks about the ship desperately, as though the next course of action will come to him if he can just find it. All around us are the terrified faces of the Drifta civilians. Members of my crew are dispersed between them, watching the water, waiting for the fight approaching. Captain Warran remains at the helm, ready for the moment we get the anchor up again.

“You could put me down and help everyone below,” I suggest.

“That’s not going to happen. There’s too many people down there as it is.”

He finds the nearest crate and perches atop it, keeping me close. Now that he’s not holding so much of my weight, he uses one hand to cup the side of my face.

“Don’t be scared. You’re going to be okay,” he says.

“Dying isn’t so scary. It’s living that’s hard.”

“But you’re going to do it. You’re too tough to die.”

I look up into his face, and only then do I see the fear in his eyes. I’m not the one who is most scared right now.

I place a hand against the one he has pressed to my face. “Don’t be afraid.”

“But I am. I haven’t had enough time with you. You can’t go yet.”

“Will you promise me something?” I don’t think the end is too far off for me. My wound doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

“Anything.”

“When—if I die, don’t turn back to the bottle. You can’t—”

He moves his thumb to cover my lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to forget a single moment that I shared with you. Not your smiles or your viciousness or that deadly aim you possess with those knives. But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going anywhere.”

“Just remember,” I say. “You’re too good to throw your life away by not really living it. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. I’m sorry I pushed you away again and again. I’m sorry we didn’t have any time to really be together.”

“We were together in the ways that mattered,” he counters.

“Fighting?”

“Fighting. Talking. Working together. That’s all I ever wanted. Just to be near you.”

A tear slides out the side of my eye and catches in my hair. “Would you do something for me?”

“What is it?”

“Kiss me.”

Kearan swallows, and his eyes tilt down toward my mouth. “This isn’t the right moment. Not now when you’re hurt.”

“It might be the only moment.” He still hesitates.

“If I had the strength, I would reach up and initiate it, assuming you want—”

“I want,” he growls, the two words forming a complete sentence of their own. He leans down and presses his lips to mine.

I learn then that there is a difference between physical heat and the electricity of being touched by someone you care for. While I can’t feel the former, I can certainly feel the latter. My skin tingles at all the places we are connected, and while I cannot forget the horrible numbness of my limbs, it is nice to have something else to focus on.

The soft scratchiness of his beard against my cheeks. The texture of his lips placed so gently over mine. The way his thumb moves up and down my neck while he still cradles my face with one hand.

I never would have guessed such a precious moment in time would be possible for me. My tears come more quickly now, because I realize that one moment is not enough. I need more. I need a lifetime of moments like this.

Moments with him.

A shout has Kearan drawing his head back. We look over in time to see Enwen and Taydyn hauling one of the undead up the stairs. It’s moving like a beached fish while Enwen holds the arms and Taydyn grasps the legs. It takes some maneuvering, but they finally get the body thrown over the side of the ship.

“What’s that about?” Kearan asks them.

“They’re not staying dead,” Enwen says. “Rendering the muscles useless isn’t working anymore. Their very bones are being moved for them. We can’t clear them out of the room with the capstan. Miss Dimella says to toss them over and keep watch so they don’t reboard.”

They both disappear back below. Another two men come up top carrying another wriggling undead.

“They’re not staying dead?” I repeat aloud. “But that would mean—”

“He’s been playing with us this whole time,” Kearan says. “Making us feel like we had hope and a sense of control. But we can’t render his armies useless. It’s never been possible.”

And that’s why all those skeletons were encased in ice. All he needs are bones.

“You need to go help them,” I say. “He’s getting too close. Please. Just set me down.”

Kearan isn’t happy about it, but he listens, as he’s always done. “I’ll find out what’s holding up Iskirra.” He sets me against the crate in a sitting position so I have a view of the deck and the sea. He gives me one last, longing look before running downstairs.

I wonder if he suspects, as I do, that perhaps Iskirra isn’t with us anymore. If the undead cannot be rendered useless, then there’s no way I have a full crew still alive downstairs. My heart falls at the thought, and I curse this wound that’s preventing me from moving.

I watch the churning water grow ever closer. A musket shot away now. They’ll be upon us within the minute. But as I count my breaths and try not to think on the pain in my torso, the ship doesn’t move. I don’t hear chains rising out of the water or the cranking of the capstan.

And though the remaining fighters on the main deck do their best to keep the bodies that have been thrown over from resurfacing, they can do nothing when a tower of bodies lunges out of the sea. Threydan climbs a ladder made from undead bodies and hauls himself over the ship.

King of the Undersea, indeed.

The dead follow him aboard.

They sweep through the ship like a tide, grabbing all in their path, holding them immobile, just as they did at our camp.

Threydan’s eyes move over the boat, and I know he’s seeing with more than just his own vision. He’s also taking in all that the dead see and hear. When his eyes land on me, I stiffen, but I don’t move. If I’m going to expend any energy, it has to be at the right moment.

Still barefoot, Threydan approaches me, despite my crew trying to reach me first. I admire their efforts, but now is the time to stand down. The dead keep them held in place, clearing a path for Threydan to reach me.

I feel for the buckle at my chest, not sure yet if I mean to undo it and speed up my end or reinforce it so I can be here for whatever comes next. It is a futile attempt. My fingers cannot grip anything properly at the moment.

Threydan stares down at me, eyeing the injury and my fumbling fingers. “Beloved, you are dying,” he says.

“I am not your beloved, and it is my right to die as I choose.”

“And what of your crew? What will you choose for them?”

The undead spill out from belowdecks, carrying members of my crew, of Warran’s crew, and even Dynkinar’s people. There’s not enough room for everyone up here, but Threydan makes sure the people I care about most are within my sight.

Dimella eyes me from between the grasp of two undead. Enwen has his eyes shut tight, trying to pretend he’s in a better place, no doubt. And then there’s Kearan. Held back by no less than five undead, all of them enormous and putting their full weight into him. I try not to stare at him for fear that Threydan will notice.

He notices anyway, his rigid gaze fixing on the man I care for most.

I try to get his attention back on me. “You said you’d give me three days.”

He scoffs. “And you said you would end things with him.” He points to Kearan, as though I don’t know who he’s talking about.

“No, I said I would tell him things were ended between us. And I did that.”

“And then you tried to flee from me.”

“An eternity of servitude didn’t sound like fun.”

Threydan looks as though he wants to hit something. “Are you completely stupid? Did you not hear anything I’ve said to you?” He switches to another language, perhaps his native tongue? His next words are for my ears only. “The panaceum doesn’t make you a slave. You still have your mind and will. You’ll only be invulnerable. Invincible. A queen at my side. The world ours for the taking. All I asked in return was help dealing with the horrible creatures who took so much from me. Is that really so much?

“I have been patient,” he continues. “I have tried kindness and love to persuade you. I wanted you to choose this of your own free will, but that’s clearly not going to happen. So we’re going to jump ahead to the part where you’re like me. And in your gratitude for me freeing you from mortality, you will finally see me as you should.” He takes another step in my direction.

“Don’t come near me,” I say, though I can barely move.

He looks heavenward. “I leave you to your own devices for mere hours, and you get yourself stabbed. You’re dying, Sorinda. I will not let my chances at revenge die with you.”

I cough, and the motion causes unbelievable pain. I fumble with the buckle some more, as though that’ll help anything. “You said it had to be my choice. The panaceum can’t influence me any longer. I have to want it.”

“You don’t have to want it. You only have to accept it. And now your choices are death or eternity with me.”

I laugh, even though it’s agony. “I choose death.”

Threydan stares me down, as though waiting for me to finish the joke. It takes him far too long to realize I’m serious.

“You’d rather die than be with me,” he deadpans. “Even though I can offer you power and forever?”

“I don’t want any of it. Not power. Not forever. And especially not you.”

We’re back to speaking in Islander now, and I don’t care who can hear. What’s he going to do? Kill me? I’m already dying.

And he thinks I’d damn myself for eternity to save myself.

Fool.

Threydan’s gaze lowers to my rapier. He strides forward to protests from my crew and unsheathes the weapon. Alosa’s gift sparkles in the sunlight, and Threydan admires the sword for a few seconds. What’s he going to do now? Speed up my end?

My heart rate picks up, because I have a feeling that’s not what he’s about to do at all.

He turns away from me, strides off in Kearan’s direction with the sword extended.

“Wait,” I say, my voice growing weak. “Stop.” I try to stand, but all I manage to do is topple fully onto the deck. As a sharp pain lances through me, I manage to raise my head just in time to meet Kearan’s eyes. They are unafraid, and he doesn’t take them off me.

I scramble to rise, to stand, to do anything except watch what is about to happen.

The King of the Undersea stabs him through the gut. In and out so quickly I can barely follow the motion. It is only the hordes of undead that keep Kearan standing.

“No!”

It hurts so bad, but I scoot along the deck, trying to get as close to Kearan as possible. He has a wound that matches mine, though his isn’t stanched. He’ll bleed out much quicker than I am.

“Now you have a choice to make, Sorinda,” Threydan says. “You can watch him die and know that I will have his body join my ranks of undead forever. Or you can accept my offer, gain the power of the panaceum, and heal him with it.”

The breath stutters out of me as two horrible choices are laid before me. I want neither; neither can happen. Why can’t I just die so the choice is made for me?

I cease my struggling and fall still.

Death for me will not stop whatever happens here. Am I foolish enough to think Threydan will cease terrorizing my crew once I’m gone? No, he’ll likely slaughter everyone I ever knew for what I took from him.

He says, “Make the choice now, Sorinda, or I will speed this along. Where is the little pirate? She’s who I’ll maim for you next.”

Roslyn.

“All right,” I croak. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” comes too many shouts for me to count. One from a wounded Kearan, one from little Roslyn up top. One from Dimella and countless others. They are a good crew.

If I’m to remain a good captain, I need to do this one last thing for them. Then this nightmare of a journey will finally be over for them. I’ll worry about my forever after that.

“Good girl,” Threydan says demeaningly. He returns to me, scoops me up in his arms—and I close my eyes, pretending it’s only Kearan holding me again.

Threydan turns his back to the majority of the crew, as though to give us a semblance of privacy. Then, without hesitation, he lowers his lips to mine again.

I can’t pretend it’s Kearan any longer. Not now that I know how his lips feel and taste. But Threydan doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not reciprocating the kiss. This is a ritual. I’d imagine this is the only way he can share eternity with me now that the panaceum is a part of him.

What is a kiss but a meeting of two souls?

That place inside me where all my heat is contained around my heart—it throbs, swirling like an angry mass within me. I feel a tug, something trying to coax it upward.

And I resist. Violently. Because that is my essence. My mortality. That is me all condensed into one place. I grab ahold of my heart with clawed fingertips, keeping it right where it is.

Threydan says against my lips, “Give in to me, Sorinda. He doesn’t have long. You must give it to me now.”

One by one, I loose those fingers. I force myself to hold absolutely still. Do nothing as my mortality is pulled from my chest. Up higher and higher. Until it reaches Threydan.

Or perhaps it is the other way around. Perhaps immortality is invading me, snuffing out my light. Building me anew.

It takes but a moment, and then—

Everything changes.