Chapter 16
At sea, bribes and threats trade hands like currency.
I am no stranger to extortion and intimidation, but over the years, I’ve lost my touch. This isn’t something I can fight my way out of with brute force.
No, this is a battle of smarts. A game of lies and secrets. A war of words.
“Did you get what I asked for?” Caelus asks, lounging at the fireplace in his chambers. He sips from a glass of whiskey, his ankles crossed on the low coffee table.
I meander around the ample sitting room, scanning the top of his desk for any information about the war. Nothing jumps out.
I suck in a cheek and brush my fingertips over the door handle leading to his infamous room of collectables. I’ve only heard rumors of the priceless trinkets he keeps from various courts, but I’ve yet to explore it.
Pausing by the roaring fireplace, I lower myself to a wooden chest and fan out my dress, clasping my hands in my lap. I have the exact information Caelus wants, but haven’t decided how to use it to my advantage.
There must be something Kressa isn’t telling me—a sliver of the truth she’s holding back. Caelus doesn’t keep prisoners for the hell of it. He wouldn’t waste resources on keeping them fed or living. So, who is this man, and why is he so important?
Caelus peers at me with a lifted brow.
I sigh and trace the intricate carvings etched into the lid of the chest. “No. Whenever I brought up the competition, she changed the conversation. I didn’t want to come off too eager in case she became suspicious.”
He abandons his drink on the coffee table and lowers his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. “Try harder. If I thought it would be easy, I would have asked one of the other courtesans.”
My fingers close into a fist, my nails scraping at the wood. I glance over his shoulder, at the carpets and tapestries hung on the walls depicting images of birds caught mid-flight in raging storms. “I just need more time with her, that’s all.”
A tall mirror stands in the far corner with a quilt draped over it, the uncovered slice at the bottom clouded and warped with age. Why Caelus insists on keeping it in his room, I’ll never know. A part of his collection, I guess.
“If she didn’t tell you why she’s here, what did you talk about while her hands were all over you?” He purses his lips and tightens his grip on the arms of the chair. “In fact, I’d say you were enjoying her company.”
The ghost of Kressa’s hand traces up my back, and I shiver despite the fire licking at my skin. I grimace. I don’t want the brand of her fingers on me or the phantom of her whispers against my neck.
Or the memory of Isolde’s expression when I took Kressa’s hand.
I shrug. “Nothing noteworthy. Bragged about her work in bounty hunting, the people she’s arrested. Mostly spoke about how good dinner was.”
He gives me a long stare and nods, plucking up his drink. Ice taps against the sides as he drains the glass. “For some of them, that will be their final meal. In fact, tomorrow, many of them will become a meal themselves. With any luck, Kressa will be among them and our problem will be solved.”
My stomach sours, but his words snag my thoughts, and I straighten.
Of course.
“A meal?” I lean against the wall and admire my nails, feigning indifference. “What do you have planned for tomorrow’s trial, anyway?”
He stands and crosses to the bar cart nestled between two sweeping windows, giving a view of the night sky. Amber glass bottles crowd the two tiers, and he removes the top from a decanter, filling his glass. He stares out at Sarenia below and knocks it back.
Just as I think he won’t entertain my curiosity, he opens his mouth. “I borrowed something from the sea. It was hard to track down, even harder to sedate and airlift all the way here. But it’s the perfect opening for the competition. The perfect way to kill as many as possible.”
I sit up straight, my heart beating wildly against my ribs. There’s only one thing in the ocean that deadly.
“It’s currently being held in the lake, unfed and furious,” he continues. “The pirates will likely be the first to recognize it from their legends, although none have met it at sea. A ship has never survived its attack.”
Wrong. One ship has. Barely.
My fingers tremble in my lap, and I fold them together. “If it’s from the sea, wouldn’t it die in the fresh water?”
He nods, refilling his glass. “It can survive up to three days without salt water, and tomorrow night will mark the third day.”
A string tugs at my heart. One that leads directly to the ocean. “And what will you do with him after?”
“We intend to return it, of course.” Caelus turns and leans against the window frame, smiling into his glass. “Once it has its fill. Or when half the competitors are dead.”
Blood drains from my face, my breaths quickening. “It’s late, I should get going.” Standing, I hurry to the door and pause with my hand around the knob. “I arranged to meet with Kressa tomorrow. I’ll get more information from her after the trial.”
“Should she survive,” Caelus adds.
“Yes, should she.”
Should I survive.
“Good night, Briar.”
“Good night,” I manage, slipping through the door.
I stagger down the hallway, blood pounding in my ears. My exhales come out in rasps—talons scraping down my throat. I press myself into a shadowed alcove and suck in a slow, controlled breath.
Fresh water from the lake won’t kill me, but the puckered, serpentine tentacles will. The rows of razor-sharp teeth, capable of ripping apart flesh and bone. The revenge promised should he ever come across me again.
The kraken.