Chapter 45
J A N E
Moments earlier…
F rigid air washes over my skin as I’m yanked from a lovely dream where it was just Kathleen and me, having drinks by the river.
The very one that I hated taking cold baths out of.
Bringing my knees to my chest, I’m so out of it that it takes a while to process what in the hells is going on, and why this bed is suddenly so cold.
“Get up,” says a voice that sounds familiar but I have no recollection of.
Opening my eyes reveals it’s dark in here, and as I sit up, it slowly pieces back—imprisoned in a tower. Anya is gone… oh, fuck. It’s like waking up into a nightmare.
Dread sours my stomach as I can’t take waking up here much longer, realizing the blanket has been ripped off of me.
“Put on clothes. Hurry,” Iris hisses.
I don’t question and just do it, because if I have to hear her bitch one more time… plus, it’s not like I have anything to be afraid of. Enemies in the distance? Perfect—I need the chaos if I’m to try and run for it. “Something interesting happening?” I ask as I lazily put on pants in the dark, the light of her lantern mixing with the moon’s glow. “The sun isn’t even out.”
“Morvock has instructed us to get to the ship. He doesn’t want to wait for the sunrise.”
I go even slower to slide on wool socks, my mind processing as fast as hurricane winds.
I can’t leave on a ship.
It’s okay… the moment I get a chance, I’ll jump into the waters. Right?
“Do you take anything seriously?”
I perch my elbow on my knee and look at her with incredulity. “Your shit stain of a leader killed my friend, wants to steal my babies, then skin me so his god can wear it like a creepy mask. If I took this seriously, I’d be insane. So, no. I think you’re all idiots and don’t take any of you seriously.”
Her lips purse tightly, almost trembling, as she sucks her tongue to her teeth in a click . “Get dressed, and then you’ll go with the others,” she grinds out.
“What others?” I ask with annoyance, pulling my boots on.
“The other women like you.”
I stop, staring at the stone floor. Slowly lifting my head, I stare at the moving shadows on her face. I have no idea why, but I hadn’t fully considered there were others like me here . I look around the room, trying to make the pieces fit, but they don’t. “What?”
She smiles smugly. “Didn’t realize you’re not special? You’re just a womb to get us in Morvock’s favor, and then your body will be used like compost to help him become reborn. Then, we’ll be the chosen ones in the new world he brings, and no one will remember you.”
I still don’t understand, but I ask, “Where do the others stay? How long have they been here? I’ve seen the cellars. And women? I thought there were men, too?”
“It’s not your business.” She ushers me to the door.
My mind spins as if the gears have been oiled, eager to work out a riddle. I’ve been stagnant within these walls, but this is a lot of information that surely can help me, in some way.
Plus, are these women like me? Their freedom ripped from them? The chilling consideration makes my eyes widen that they may have already been subject to being used .
I dress quicker, not even wondering who is here. If it were Tempest, something tells me there would be more than Iris here to fetch me. Same with if it was Soren.
Soren .
It feels like I’m doing him a disservice to think he wouldn’t come for me, and yet the concept is so vastly complex I cannot accept it. I don’t want to miss a moment of opportunity if I squander my heart on hope .
What if it is him?
A peculiar feeling pricks at the back of my neck, almost whispering to me that I won’t be returning here; it’s the same thing I felt when my dad carried me away from my home.
Pay attention, Jane.
I have to escape.
I must .
My wrists are bound in a way that I’m growing quite familiar with, thankful every time that I can heal them after with how unforgiving the rope is.
Anya never had that luxury.
It’s a shame such fanatics live here, as I’d be tempted to find this castle almost enchanting with its long corridors, beautiful windows, and balconies, something I can appreciate now that I’m not feverishly trying to analyze it.
Perhaps I feel different, too, because I no longer have to fake any part of me.
Blackwell waits for me at the bottom of the stairs, fully dressed in battle attire, leather straps all over, weapons adorned for easy reach.
Interesting.
I know someone like him has to have a lot of enemies, not just Tempest or my father. But, what if…
He doesn’t even look at me as I’m guided through the castle. There’s a certain, tight bustle to the people inside. Like how Skull’s Row would get right before a hurricane—thinking that over, I notice that the curtains billow with more force, even rippling in the wind. Light rain begins to land on the sills, the stone shining.
My bones already feel soaked and freezing at the thought of going out into that. It even starts to smell damp—did I not notice this in my room?
Someone strides up to Blackwell, breathing heavily as if he rushed to get here. “Sir… Merciless is backing out.”
Blackwell stops, the tension making me close my eyes as I nearly wait for him to blame me somehow. “And why ?” Blackwell drolls out.
“Because of her .”
Fuck, what did I do?
When I glance at the man, rather than indicating to me, he does so to the windows.
Wait, then who? There’s no way it’s Tempest. It feels too good to be true, honestly. Like why did Anya suffer so much just for Tempest to arrive days later? And Merciless backed out? Was he going to join us?
“Then we leave as soon as I say we’re ready, and whoever doesn’t make it, gets left behind.”
I don’t look at Blackwell’s face as we start walking again, but if I were to, I can only imagine the expressions he must harbor as everyone we pass lowers their head in submission when they see his him; a little quicker than normal, like they’re afraid.
“Can I even ask what’s happening?” I inquire. He has no one to threaten me with now, so I don’t have to behave.
“You set the sirens free,” he says, too calmly. “Tempest is coming, and I suppose that’s why Merciless is gone. But it’s fine, you don’t need to worry, Jane. We’re leaving quite early as it is, before anything becomes a problem. You’ll still get to have the honor of serving Morvock,” he says, far too much condescension in his voice.
“Would hate to cause a problem,” I say, my sleepiness completely staved off now.
Tempest…
Oh, I’ll do whatever it takes to jump into the ocean. There have to be sirens in there. I’ll even risk freezing to death over being with Misery.
Blackwell seems to buy that, and even snickers . “Enjoy breathing without fear right now, Jane. I don’t envy you in the slightest. The sirens being freed is entirely Jesper’s fault, and he’s been punished severely . When it comes time to consummate with him, you will hate your life.”
I won’t let that happen. I need the ocean if I’m to get out of here. I have to hope one of the sirens is in that water, waiting on me with marrowkelp. If not, then... well, again, I’d rather freeze in the waters, and at least Soren can find his sister himself.
I also can’t help but be happy to hear Jasper suffer.
“You seem rather calm,” I state.
“ I’m not the one who needed the sirens. And I mean what I said—your life will be nothing but suffering once on Darkwater. Jesper will never forgive you. I find a lot of solace in that.”
Blackwell guides me to an area where I can see the shipyard in the far distance through a window, but before I can look further, I’m pulled to the opposite side as I walk through a threshold and stand on a landing, stairs in front of me to take us down to a circular entrance hall. My heart races when I spot at least a dozen women—ranging from what has to be late teens to even forties—standing in a row, wearing the same brown garb that I also wear, all with bound wrists and looking down at the ground, lined up.
I’m moved next to the women and placed at the end, with me being the only one to look around while they continue to have a staring contest with the floor. A few fire mages stand guard over us, each one with a different black marking on their forehead— from a diamond with a circle in the center, to three horizontal stripes. Their red robes stand out against the monotone grayish white of this place, their hands clasped behind their backs; they carry so much self-importance.
Blackwell moves around the room, surveying all of us, before walking to the only door here and opening it, the rain pattering at his feet.
“Great. There’s a storm,” he grumbles, although I’m not sure it was to anyone in particular. It’s as if he’s too lazy to be angry. Or maybe that’s just how his confidence comes across, like he is certain that no matter what, none of this will stop him.
I lean into the closest woman next to me, whose lips are chapped. “My name is Jane.”
The woman stiffens, shifting her gaze slightly at me before back down at the ground. Well, clearly they aren’t the talking type, which means they were subjected to their own torture so far. I hear sniffing and lean forward, looking at one in the middle—the one who appears the oldest—who seems to be silently crying.
I badly want to speak, but I need to think before acting, for once. I potentially have an armada coming for me, and no matter what, I need to get away from Blackwell. From Misery.It’s either I focus on those who would suffer under his reign, or these Cinders.
It’s such a selfish feeling that saving my own life is more important than preserving others, especially when they’re standing next to me.
It’s necessary, though. I know this.
One of the mages goes under the stairwell, and I hear a door—I must have missed it. We’re told to follow, the winds picking up as thunder rages in the sky. We’re taken through a covered, open-arched walkway, many armed guards outside to escort us. I keep glancing out at the sea; a streak of lighting illuminates the entire ocean, revealing angry waves that bash into the coast.
Holy shit, is that Tempest doing this? I don’t know why I assume it’s her, but it feels like it could be her. The two mages even discuss it, mentioning how fast these storms appeared, and that usually they have more warning.
“Should we wait, until it passes?” one asks Blackwell, who is directly in front of me.
“I have a feeling the storm could turn into a hurricane if we don’t move fast enough,” he patronizes.
“We should wait,” the other echoes, as if afraid of the water.
“Your leader and his poor decisions got us into this. Remember that when he tries to wear a crown.” Blackwell looks over at one of them. “If we leave now , it will just be rough sailing. If we wait… You do not want to meet the pirate queen in this state. And Morvock has said we have to leave now . He’s waiting for us on the ship. Quit your bitching, and keep moving .”
My eyes widen when I remember it was a shark on Moriganna’s arm—Blackwell’s sigil. It’s just as much his fault as it is Jesper’s that Tempest is here, as I imagine Tempest will not be very forgiving of her daughter being branded; I nearly laugh when I realize he’s throwing Jesper out onto the floor for others to trample on, while acting as if he had nothing to do with it.
Water sprays slightly on us when the winds push it in our direction; this is going to be cold .
The covered path takes us to an open, sheltered patio, one that then leads down to the harbor. The line of lit fires blows violently in the winds, and I stand closer to one to try and warm myself up. Those violent waters are no doubt frigid.
“ FIRE ! There’s a fire on the peninsula!” someone shouts in the distance. Misery’s mages look around, confused, one of them laughing. “Get a mage to fix it, you idiot,” he mutters under his breath.
A man comes rushing our way, his entire body soaked with rain. “Mages! We need you!” He nearly knocks one of the Cinders over, a train of wet footprints behind him. “Ten buildings are aflame. And it’s spreading! One of your kind is doing it, and we found at least, I don’t know, two dozen dead in your quarters,” he pants, his eyes wide with shock. “They’ve turned on us—I mean, I think something’s happened .”
The way Blackwell morphs from calmly moving about as if he’s untouchable, to his lips parting and his eyes widening—he throws a look at me as if he chucked a dagger that I threw.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I say, my voice a little high-pitched. “Don’t blame me .”
His lips partially move with each pant, curling in as he looks to the harbor, then back at where the man came. He pushes one of the mages. “Is this a coup?”
“Do not suggest such treason against me,” the mage snarls, facing the man that came to us. “What do you mean, two dozen are dead? That’s impossible . No one can get close without incineration.”
The man steps forward. “Sir, please… there’s a man with a black mask among them. A Zenith, I think.”
Pure shock and horror nearly blanches Blackwell, that gaze falling to me. “GET JANE ON MY SHIP, NOW ! Get her as close to Morvock as possible, under his fucking cloak if you have to!”
Panic consumes this place like wildfire, one guard grabbing each of my limbs, the other women subjected to similar treatment as they’re ushered forward.
It’s difficult to fight when at least half a dozen hands are on me, and all I can do is yell and thrash. Blackwell leads with a hurry, but remains very close to me. “Mages, stay with us! We’ll need your power!”
The two mages mutter about how they could have been killed, and something about an eternal flame.
Rain streaks down my face, and I crane my neck to see that there’s so much smoke in the air. It even rolls high like it did in Coalfell, so definitely from a fire mage.
Soren .
How the fuck is he here?
I thrash even harder, revitalized to know he’s here . Who else would be in a black mask? I scream as loud as I can, my throat even scratching, but they don’t stop my cries.
I’m carried further down, Blackwell’s ship a massive, black construction with evenly placed braziers at the front, two mages standing near the flames. The bow is brightly illuminated, the front of the ship slightly resembling a shark’s head with wooden teeth arranged so the bow is like the nose. Where the mouth opens up is a balcony.
Darkwater.
I can hear the ocean, smell her salt, and we near the vast emptiness ahead, Blackwell’s stupid ship the only beacon in the rain. I transition quickly from that uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes to being utterly soaked by the time we reach the piers. Sails are being lowered, the fabric catching the wind with each gust.
Among the braziers at the bow stands a figure cloaked in black, the candle eyes visible from here, with Jesper standing right next to him.
As I’m taken closer, blinking rapidly to get the rain out of my eyes, that fire behind us isn’t close enough.
They won’t make it.
I don’t lose myself to any of the misery; Anya’s necklace is under my clothes, and I plan to fully fight for her memory. Soren is here, which means maybe my dad is too.
I’m not alone.
But as Darkwater is starting to rise higher above me, it means we are getting lower and closer to the ramp that will?—
“Do not put Jane down. Do not let her, under any circumstance, enter that ocean,” Blackwell commands.
Okay, well, that just confirmed for me that I should enter the ocean.
As they carry me up the ramp to Darkwater, a crack of lightning, along with a gust of wind, helps me see that there’s a design from the fates. It’s as if my mind has had many pieces floating in a murky pool of water, and suddenly there’s clarity. There’s a reason.
I’ll have Blackwell and Jesper on this ship, along with every fucking asshole that follows Morvock’s shadow, while the rest burn out. I’m not sure how to kill a god, but I know how to bleed a man. Stop his heart.
Burn him.
I’m immune to fire, aren’t I? So are these women, then? What if I can set this ship on fire, out in the open, in tumultuous waters? Kill the mages so they can’t put it out, just like Soren did? If Tempest is coming, it might buy her time. At the very least, I’d be getting rid of Blackwell and Jesper in one fell swoop.
As soon as my feet touch the deck’s surface, someone grabs my soaking shirt and starts to tie ropes around my arms, to which two more guards are back on me to secure my wrists, too. As soon as I give a little fight, an arm is wrapped around my neck in a threat to choke me out.
They’ve learned not to trust me.
Can’t fault them. I was just thinking about bolting to the edge of the ship and tumbling over into the water…
Jesper approaches Blackwell while I’m being bound, and he has what looks like bandages over his left eye, along with an eyepatch. It seems intentional that he won’t look at me. “What is happening?” Jesper asks.
The man that came to alert us comes forward, and I’m placed down on the wooden deck. “We’re under attack,” the man says. “One of them has a mask like Blackwell’s. But I thought we were told that none of the Zenith would follow, so I’m not sure. Nearly all of the fire mages have been killed.”
Jesper finally looks at me with his one eye, that thing wide and locked in shock.
“Then it is as I feared,” Misery says, his voice carrying unnaturally in the winds, his back still to us. “Not only is Ritter among those, but Soren . And Basilisk . I sensed them too late…”
“Get this ship out of the harbor!” Blackwell shouts, placing his mask on, the golden decorations of his design along the jaw and chin. “If anyone doesn’t make it, then that’s their shit luck. We leave now !”
The Cinders are all guided to the center of the ship, standing near the hatch to the stores below. A sword is poked into my back shoulder to nudge me forward, my torso completely useless. I still have my legs… I could run ? —
As soon as I try to dart, I’m yanked backward and slammed onto the deck’s surface. Looking up in confusion, I see a guard holding onto a strand of rope like a leash, one that’s intertwined in my bindings.
Shit.
There’s an explosion that spirals into the sky near the castle, the flames consuming nearby homes, everyone jumping in surprise. I swear I can even hear the faint clashing of swords, and it’s a struggle to stand so I can get a better look.
The flames now glow from inside the castle, reaching out the windows to stain the stone. Jesper screams loudly like a child who lost his inheritance.
One of the flames even turns blue.
“Get out of the harbor!” Misery cries into the air, the sound cracking through like a whip as Blackwell commands his ship.
“Where is Merciless?” Jesper shouts.
Blackwell pauses before ascending his stairs to stare down the petulant man. “He backed out like the cunt he is! Which means he must have seen the Sea Wolf.”
Oh, I fucking like seeing them all concerned.
I’m poked with a sword once more and move forward. The deck is slick, everything set in motion to get us out of harbor.
Now that I’m up here and not worried about being choked out, I can see the devastation of the peninsula.
They’ve razed it.
People are running through the flames, some on fire despite the pouring rain. The fight edges closer to the ocean, the raging inferno consuming the east end of the castle, the blue flames mixing with the burning yellow and orange.
There’s a silhouette of a figure looking out at the ocean right at the edge, wearing a mask.
Soren .
“That’s the fucking castle on fire!” Jesper yells as the crew lowers the final the sails.
“What did you expect?” Blackwell yells back at him. “Soren has never been known to be gentle when angry, and we fucking pissed him off!” Blackwell shouts, motioning to me. “But he’s stuck on that harbor, and we’re on our way. Try not to piss your pants, Jesper . We’ll be out of this shortly.”
Blackwell begins to ascend the elaborate stairs, step by step, like his actions have articulation, climbing up to the wheel.
“Ride through the storm, Antony,” Misery speaks, his words clearly unnerving everyone around with how it sounds like they’re spoken right in our ear. “I’ll exhaust what I have left to keep the ship safe and get us to Boneglass.”
Everyone moves with immediacy.
Jesper grabs a telescope from one of the men, pointing it out to the chaos. With my head lowered so as to keep the rain out of my eyes, I glare through my lashes at Misery, who hasn’t moved. The broken god continues to stand at the very tip of the ship as it begins to fully turn, veering north of the fire isles.
The morning sun is barely alive somewhere above the clouds, as there’s some definition in the sky, the ocean barely discernible. My eyes widen when I get a full view of where we’re heading, the heavy clouds a deep gray color that used to send Skull’s Row into lockdown; storms were always perfect for murder, as everyone was too busy focusing on their dwellings, families, and self-preservation.
Skull’s Row… my home. I can handle this.
The Cinders and I are guided below deck as Blackwell shouts, “ Brace for the storm! ”