Chapter 33

Thirty-Three

On Everard’s twentieth day of imprisonment, the rations slowed and became irregular.

The Lafittes weren’t violent men, and they didn’t know Everard was accustomed already to fasting; but they knew how to slowly kill a man, knew exactly how long it would take for a missive to reach Varfolomey, how long it would take for a meregildo to make her way back this side of the Gulf.

And once they decided to withdraw water rations, no amount of Everard’s being used to hunger would save him.

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