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

Chapter 24

EVERYTHING FEELS DIFFERENT.

If I thought I was empty before, when it was only temperature I could no longer feel, it is nothing compared to what I am now.

A husk.

No pain.

But also no spark of life.

There is a breeze on my face, but I feel removed from it somehow, as though it hardly registers to me. I cannot smell the briny water of the sea or feel the tight braids in my hair. Though I can see the bodies around me, I feel no particular connection to them. I know that I care for them. But the actual sensation within my heart? It’s missing.

I’m missing.

I’m a mind full of thoughts but no feelings.

Once mortality is ripped from a soul, what meaning does anything have? One cannot enjoy happiness if there is no sorrow. There is no joy without pain. No love without hate. No feeling of being rested when one cannot feel restless. How can the days matter when they are innumerable? How can one enjoy life when it is endless?

This is what Threydan gave up everything for? A half-life?

For power.

And yes, I can certainly feel that. I have a connection to all the undead surrounding me. All I need to do is think a phrase, and they will carry it out. I can see through their eyes if I concentrate. It is an instinct as familiar to me as breathing once was.

I look down, note that my chest no longer rises and falls. It doesn’t need to. Breath no longer sustains me. The panaceum is what gives me life now. I can sense it from Threydan’s chest—

I couldn’t risk them taking it. Not when I was so close to saving Kayra.

If I hid it, then I wouldn’t be able to use its power and survive off this island. Perhaps I should swallow it? Or would my body only work it through my system given time?

I was running out of time and ideas.

And then a new thought struck me. Something that would hide the panaceum from the world and make it accessible only to me.

I sharpened the knife for hours, then spent another mustering up the courage. When I finally put the blade to my chest, I screamed and screamed as I cut into my own flesh, reached inside, and removed my heart.

With the panaceum firmly grasped in my other hand, I couldn’t die, but I could still feel the pain. Every second of it. I sliced into my heart, thrust the artifact within, then placed my heart back into my chest.

The moment my hands let go, something remarkable happened.

The pain vanished. The power overwhelmed. The possibilities were endless.

Let them come for me now.

With steady fingers, I remove the belt around my waist. I don’t need it any longer. My skin has knit itself back together, but I barely have a thought to spare for my own well-being, for there is a sense of urgency within my mind. One I cannot feel throughout my limbs, but I still heed it. I walk with purpose toward the dying man on the ship. The one who was hurt because of me. The undead move away from his side at my silent order. Kearan slumps to the ground, and I don’t have the strength to catch him. But I join him on the floor.

“Your eyes,” he says, and I know they’re glowing a peacock blue. “Are you all right?”

“No.”

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Quiet. I need to concentrate.” I place my hand over the wound, and Kearan gasps. I pull on the power of the panaceum. I can access it freely, because Threydan has shared its full powers with me. He chose me to be his equal.

I should be horrified.

I should feel disgusted.

I’m never going to die.

Instead, I am empty, driven by the strong impulses that remained when I was still human. But they are a memory more than anything that I feel now. Human Sorinda would be distraught that Kearan is hurt. But the new me holds all our memories together yet feels cut off from them, as though I wasn’t the one who felt all the emotions that went with those memories.

It is not difficult at all to imagine how the years ahead will change me. More time means more distance from my humanity and the things I’ll remember about it. Those human feelings will fade until I hardly remember them at all. No wonder Threydan is as he is now.

When the skin has fully healed, I step away from Kearan and tread back to Threydan’s side. Kearan rises on steady feet, and the undead surround him once more by Threydan’s will.

“Now you see,” Threydan says with a smile. “They are nothing. We are everything. Soon, even your feeble feelings will fade, and you will become so much more. You will build a life as you are now, and that will be all that ever truly existed.”

He takes my hand in his, and I don’t resist.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now we sail for the Seventeen Isles. Did I not promise to return the humans to their own lands? Unless, of course, you wish for them to serve you now in death?”

If there was any fidgeting among my crew, it quickly halts. Everyone goes perfectly still.

“No. Let’s return them home.”

“And then we can search for the sirens.”

“Yes,” I agree. Turns out acting is a lot easier when you’re lifeless.

“Good. Now why don’t we put all the prisoners belowdecks for now? I think it’s time you and I had some real privacy.”

I don’t say anything in response. I can’t. I’m concentrating too hard.

“Sorinda?” he asks.

Still nothing.

“What are you doing? Let go of them. I need to put the prisoners below.”

Instead, the undead do not move, for I am giving them one order while Threydan is giving them another. They can do nothing more than hold absolutely still until one of us wins.

I turn to Threydan, King of the Undersea, terror of these lands for a thousand years.

“What am I doing?” I repeat his words back to him. “I thought you said you knew me. You should know exactly what I’m doing.”

Were I still human, sweat would dot my brow from the struggle Threydan and I are pursuing. It feels like an arm wrestle, but with the mind. Each of us trying to get the better of the other one.

Threydan clenches his teeth from the strain of it. “You’re adjusting. Give yourself a moment to acclimate to immortality. Let me handle things right now.”

“Do you know what happens to men who try to tell me what to do?” I ask him.

Threydan raises my rapier, which he still holds from stabbing Kearan. He advances toward me. “Let them go!” he bellows. “I’d hate to restrain you, but I will if I must, dearest.”

“Sorinda!” A tiny shout rings from above, and I look up at the crow’s nest just in time to see little Roslyn drop my old rapier, the one I gifted to her. It lands point first into the wood not far from me.

I dart for it, and Threydan races after me, hot on my heels. My fingers clench around the hilt, and I pull the blade from the deck in one smooth motion. Threydan halts at the end of my sword point.

“This is ridiculous,” he says. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

It’s a fair question. I have no idea where this is about to lead. I just know I have to act now. While I still have a little bit of myself left in me.

“I was told to rescue this crew. That includes saving it from the likes of you.”

“Told to? You don’t have to take orders from mortals! You are a god compared to them now.”

“I’m sick of hearing your voice.”

I take a stab at him.

He smacks my sword away with his own, the movement clunky, as though he were a bit out of practice, which I’m sure he is.

I attack a second time. He blocks it quicker this time. Smoother.

Then, as I prepare to attack a third time, he narrows his gaze at me and doesn’t even bother to parry. My blade slides into his flesh. Threydan stares at me; I stare at him. He takes a step backward, drawing himself off the sword length. His skin slides back together, and the blood clears.

“Again, what are you hoping to accomplish?” he asks. “I can’t be killed, and neither can you.”

“Then I suppose we’ll find out who tires first.”

Threydan leaps backward as I slash at him, and now he’s smiling. “If you wanted to see what your new body could do, all you had to do was ask.”

He thrusts forward with his own strike, and I divert the attack before scratching at his shoulder. A line of red appears for only seconds before the body heals itself once again. Threydan holds himself up higher.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he says, “but as I recall, I was actually quite good at it.”

And then he moves. Really moves this time.

Before I can blink, he’s under my guard, and his sword is embedded in my gut. It is the oddest sensation. I can feel the sword against my innards. The steel caresses my intestines and severs my skin. Yet there is no pain. No fear. Because I am not in danger.

That knowledge is heady.

Threydan withdraws his sword, and I watch as my skin heals itself. I could get used to that. No pain. But I cling to the reminder that I didn’t want this. It was forced upon me by this man. He means to control me, and I cannot allow it.

I leap at Threydan, slashing right and left. He dodges both, but he can’t go far. The undead only leave a small ten-by-ten-foot section of deck surrounding the mainmast for us to occupy, my crew still held within their grasps.

With his next attack, our swords meet in the middle, and Threydan uses his full weight to shove me backward. I collide with wet dead bodies, but they might as well be a brick wall for how much give they have. Threydan’s will still pushes against mine in an attempt to control them.

I bounce off the undead and hit the floor. Normally, I’d ache from the bruising I’d take after such a fall, but of course, there is nothing.

I’ve had many lifetimes’ worth of pain, and I can’t deny that there’s a part of me that thrills at never having to experience it again.

But when I look up, I find Kearan staring down at me from where he’s pinned in place. He’s a reminder that I haven’t had a lifetime’s worth of love yet. His eyes say everything. They encourage me, show me that I hold meaning for him, show me that I have his trust and confidence.

A deep pressure streaks across my face, and my vision goes dark. I blink my eyes furiously as liquid fills them.

“Stop looking at him,” Threydan says, and I realize that he just slashed me across my open eyes. When the blood finally clears and my vision returns, Threydan is standing before me. “You’re with me now. Don’t forget it. I made you this way. I’m what’s healing you. You’re mine .” He holds out a hand to me, thinking to help me to my feet, and I swipe at it with my rapier.

Three of his fingers fall to the deck in a heap of blood. Threydan sighs as he turns the empty sockets toward his face for examination. No sooner has he done so than fresh fingers sprout in their proper places.

He wiggles his new digits in my direction.

I rise slowly, rubbing at my eyes, even though there’s no need. It is a reflex more than anything else.

“Done yet?” Threydan asks.

“I’ve barely started.”

I launch myself at him.

Time ceases to be measured by seconds and minutes. It is counted by drops of blood and slashes of the sword. By the tiring of muscles. The encouragement and gasps from my crew.

We carry on for the better part of an hour.

Threydan is not in as good of physical condition as I am, having slept for a thousand years, but the panaceum sustains us both far longer than mortal muscles should allow.

My advantages have counted for naught.

I’ve sliced the arteries in both his legs. He’s lost an ear, the tip of his nose, and more fingers—each of which grew back shortly after they were separated from the rest of his body. It doesn’t matter what I do or how I cut him. That beating artifact in his heart keeps us both alive.

But tire, we eventually do.

We both collapse to the ground, arms like liquid, legs like rocks. The undead don’t move an inch, not while we both try to take control of them. Threydan has not stopped his mental assault once and neither have I.

“Shall we call it a tie?” Threydan asks, his voice slowed considerably from the exertion.

“No. This is only a respite.”

He manages to laugh. “And how long will you keep fighting?”

“Forever. That’s how long I’ll protect those I’m sworn to defend.”

“Not likely. The panaceum will make you forget them soon enough.”

From the deck of the ship, I stare up at the sky. Sweat should drain from every pore in my body. Instead, my muscles simply feel out of my reach, and I can hardly find the words to speak amidst the concentration I must maintain.

As I lie there, waiting for strength to return to my limbs, I listen to the panaceum beating away in Threydan’s chest. It is agonizing to be so aware of it yet separated by layers of meat and bone. This is the object that could be the answer to Threydan’s end, but he has made himself one with it, so he cannot be parted from it.

Unless …

It wasn’t Threydan’s heart I stabbed when he was in that ice coffin.

It was the panaceum . That is how I bonded us. That is how the transformation started. I’d chipped at it. And once he started to hear my memories, he let me in. Let me start to become as he is …

Threydan is not the only one the panaceum obeys now. I am just as bound to it.

Do the undead not attempt to listen to me just as they do Threydan? Am I not capable of sharing all his powers now? He said no one could take the panaceum from him.

But that was back when I was human.

I’m not human anymore.

No, he made it perfectly clear that I was to be exactly as he is. The only one who could share the panaceum’s powers with him.

Let’s put that to the test.

It takes several tries, but eventually I find my feet.

“Can’t I have a few more minutes, dearest?” Threydan asks as he tries to roll up first onto his knees and then his feet. He nearly falls twice. When he does manage to stand, he hunches considerably.

I tighten my grip on my rapier before charging at him. Threydan doesn’t seem to have the energy to do anything at all but let me ram him through the center. I drive him backward with every bit of strength left in me. Eventually the tip of my sword connects with the mainmast, skewering Threydan thoroughly to it.

“Thanks for that,” he says cheekily. “Nice to have something else holding me up for a bit.”

I reach in my clothing for a knife. I slam Threydan’s right hand against the wood, force his fingers open, and drive the point through his open palm.

My second knife is in my hands before he can react to the first. It impales his left hand to the mast on his other side.

He laughs. “You can’t kill me, so now you mean to trap me? I’ve dug myself out of cave-ins and bodies and more. I will free myself from this, too, Sorinda. Your mind will tire eventually. The undead will free me.”

He kicks me, sending me back several feet. I reach into my boot for a third knife and throw it. It slides through his right leg at the ankle, pinning him place.

Throw until you miss .

I grab another knife and hurl it with the practiced ease of one who has thrown knives every day of her life for thirteen years. My aim rarely fails me, especially when I’m desperate.

“Sorinda, stop this foolishness.”

I throw another knife, first through his right shoulder, then another through his left. When he tries to get leverage with his thighs, I pin them in place with knives around the edges of the limbs.

I throw and throw until he’s plastered against that mast with no hope of moving.

Until I have only one knife left.

Threydan laughs as I approach him. Using the tip, I draw an X right over his heart.

That silences him.

“What are you doing?” Threydan asks.

Before his skin can heal itself, I shove my hand into his chest. I place my knife between two of his ribs and use the leverage to crack the top one.

Threydan cannot feel the pain of it, but he screams anyway. “Stop it! Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now!”

“Why? I thought you said I couldn’t kill you.”

He says nothing, only tries to fight against the firm grip of all my knives.

I pry his heart from his chest.

“Please! Dearest, I didn’t mean to put this on you so quickly. You just need time to see. You must understand—”

“I understand plenty,” I say as I stare at his purple heart. The red of the organ mixes with the blue of the panaceum, resulting in a violet glow. I cut into the unmoving flesh, until I see the first signs of the panaceum. It is hardly bigger than a walnut, and it shines like a star in the night sky. Peacock blue.

“Revenge was the first real emotion you ever felt as an immortal,” I explain to him. “It consumed you, because it was all you could feel. It made you desperate, desperate enough to make me like you. But I am your undoing. Because I control the panaceum as much as you do.”

The moment I pry it from his heart, Threydan thrashes so much, he tears part of his skin from my knives, gaining an inch.

Though the skin of his chest now starts to repair itself, the panaceum is already clasped within my hand.

“It belongs to both of us!” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “We control it together. We are invincible together. I saw you, bits of your life. I know you’re the perfect match to take on the world with me!”

“It’s your will against mine, Threydan. I fight for my crew and the lives of all the world. You fight only for yourself. Whose will do you think will win in the end?”

It begins in earnest then, that mental battle between the two of us. I close my eyes and see him, both our metaphorical hands clasped upon the panaceum. Each trying to be the one to wrest it from the other.

Except Threydan is all alone. A black void stretches out behind him. It is only his own strength that he uses to try to claim control of the panaceum.

I, however, have help. Countless individuals line up behind me: Kearan, Dimella, Jadine, Roslyn, Enwen, Taydyn, Philoria, Visylla, Dynkinar, and so many more. They add their strength to mine.

Threydan puts up the best fight he possibly can, but in the end, the battle finishes in the only way it could.

The panaceum is mine. I cut off his access to it, and I recall the powers that it granted him. He falls alone into darkness.

When I open my eyes, Threydan’s head is slumped against his chest. He doesn’t breathe or move. It isn’t the stillness of an immortal, but the stillness of the dead.

I close his brown eyes with my fingertips.