Chapter 43
Amaris
As the rain poured down on them, Amaris took in the sight unraveling around her. Adelaide stood by Theodoric’s side as they faced Sephardi. Amaris sat in disbelief. Sephardi had freed her from the dungeon and attempted to shield her against Bennet.
What changed?
Pulled from her internal struggle, she bent over Esaias and assessed his state.
Luckily, he was still breathing. She attempted to rouse him, rubbing her knuckles against his sternum, but he only breathed deeper.
If she were home, she’d start an intravenous line and give him medication to get his sugar up, but she wasn’t in her world.
She didn’t have her drug box, her ambulance, or even Charlie. But she was more than her tools.
Esaias was her patient. She’d get him off the ship and find Onika.
Hopefully, she had an herb or something.
With Onika’s expertise, she’d get him talking and joking again.
She didn’t want to think of what Luana Bay would be like without Esaias, without any of them.
For weeks, she’d learned the routine of the mystique, sat with them at dinner, walked the halls with Theodoric, but in all of it, she’d felt freer than she ever had.
Her literal freedom might have been gone, but wasn’t that what the duke wanted all along? For her to prove herself? She couldn’t fight beside Adelaide or Theodoric now, but she could fight for the life she wanted.
Her eyes followed the railing of the ship. How was she going to get Esaias to shore, let alone the battle still breaking out on the grounds? She’d barely dragged the couple more than a few feet in that house fire, but she was all Esaias had.
Closing her eyes, she forced her stammering heart to calm.
Each breath through her nose eased her mind.
She would deal with each problem as it came.
Crawling to his head, she got him in a sitting position with her knee propping him up.
She wedged her arms under his armpits and began dragging him to the edge of the ship.
He was heavier than she expected, and his belt and clothes caught on loose nails and uneven planks. A slew of curses followed, but she refused to give up. She didn’t have Viv to throw him over her shoulder and scale down the hull like the hero she was. Amaris only had her own strength.
With each gasping breath, she spat rain and sweat from her lips.
It continued to pour, drenching her clothes.
Lightning lit up the deck, and thunder roared in the sky.
She ignored the clashing of blades and the ringing in her ears.
She couldn’t worry about Theodoric or Adelaide.
As much as it killed her to leave them, they were risking their lives so she could save Esaias.
They’d trained to fight, while she’d trained to heal.
Each drag was excruciating and short, but she managed to get Esaias to the edge of the deck. A longboat was hoisted to the railing and held with ropes. Amaris blew out a breath and grabbed lower on his torso. As she squatted down, her eyes caught a glint of gold through the sheets of rain.
Amaris squinted, and her eyes found Gris’s body lying across the way.
With the rain, she couldn’t tell if she was breathing.
Her sopping heap of hair covered her face.
Amaris gently set Esaias back on the deck and sprinted toward her.
The deck was slippery under her boots, and she came to a sliding halt.
She rolled Gris onto her back and dropped her cheek to her lips and felt her pulse. She was alive.
Amaris slung her bow over her back and slid behind her, angling her face to avoid one of Gris’s arrows poking her eye out. Thankfully, she was lighter, and Amaris had little trouble dragging her beside Esaias.
She could barely believe the chaos around her. Adelaide was fighting, and Sephardi had betrayed them. None of it made sense. Sephardi had been the one to watch over her for weeks. They were alone plenty of times, why wait to poison her at the Conjugation?
A surge of footsteps had her lunging over her patients.
“Need a hand?”
Amaris whirled. Adelaide ran up behind her, blood smeared across her face. Amaris threw a glance over her shoulder. Theodoric stood alone against Sephardi.
“He knows what he’s doing,” Adelaide assured her.
It should’ve been a comfort, but Amaris’s gut still tightened.
Adelaide jumped into the longboat, wincing and grabbing her side as she braced herself against the hull.
She didn’t complain about the blood spilling from her nose or the likely broken rib.
Adelaide held her hands out and waited for Esaias.
Amaris hefted him up, shoving him against the railing for Adelaide to assist her in rolling him into the boat. It wasn’t pretty, and he would likely have a few bruises. Gris was next. They got her into the boat, and Adelaide arranged them to balance their weight.
Amaris gripped the railing to hurtle herself into the longboat, but a shout froze her to the deck. Sephardi straddled Theodoric, with a gun pressed to his head, her fingers digging into the wound in his shoulder.
Adelaide popped her head up, but before she could draw her sword and jump over the railing, the ship rocked.
Amaris braced herself against the railing, her nails once again clinging for dear life.
The longboat swung, sending Adelaide to the far edge.
Her muffled scream turned to a raging growl, but then her eyes widened.
Amaris lifted her gaze. A rope holding the longboat hung by a few fibers.
Adelaide jumped to grab it, but the longboat tipped as it snapped. She dropped and swung her arms out to keep Gris and Esaias from pitching forward into the water.
“Cut the line!” Adelaide screamed, her face red as she gripped the edges of the boat to keep them all from slipping out. “Cut it!”
Amaris drew her knife and braced it against the rope. She began sawing, frantically trying to sever it. Her arms burned in agony, and the rain weakened her hold on her knife. A scream from Theodoric stilled her hands.
“What are you waiting for?” Adelaide grimaced, tossing an arrow onto the deck.
The weight of Gris’s bow threatened to shorten Amaris’s spine. One more movement and she’d cut through the rope. But one more cut and she’d be all Theodoric had.
“Do it!”
Amaris sliced her knife across the fraying rope, and the longboat plunged into the sea.
She didn’t stop to think. She grabbed the arrow off the deck and the bow from her back.
Her fingers moved in a rhythm she hadn’t used since her days of hunting.
This arrow was heavier, sharper. Amaris pulled back the bow and aimed.
Her arm strained. She hadn’t shot her bow in years. What if she hit Theodoric?
He writhed, his boots shuffling against the slippery deck.
If she didn’t shoot, Sephardi would kill him.
She forced a deep breath and willed her aim.
With an exhale, Amaris released the arrow.
It sailed through the rain, slicing through wind.
It landed in Sephardi’s shoulder with a startling cry.
She fell to the deck, releasing Theodoric and flinging her hand around her shoulder.
Amaris sprinted into action. She willed Theodoric to get up, but he was flat on the deck. Her feet carried her toward him, but she stalled as Sephardi shot up. She gripped the shaft of the arrow and pried it from her flesh. Blood stained the arrowhead.
Sephardi tossed it aside and stepped toward Amaris but placed the tip of her boot against Theodoric’s neck instead. He latched onto her ankle, but he seemed to have little strength. His legs kicked, and with her single foot, she cut off his air.
“Should I spare him?”
“Please, Sephardi. Why are you doing this?”
Theodoric clawed frantically at her ankle.
“Pity it had to come to this.”
His hands slumped to the deck, and Sephardi slipped her boot from his neck.
She nudged his cheek with the tip of her boot, and Amaris’s chest caved as his head rolled to the side.
She couldn’t tell if he was still breathing.
She bared her teeth as anger swept over her.
She dropped the bow at her feet and sprinted.
Instinct consumed her movements. She threw herself at Sephardi.
They rolled and slid over the planks. A nail caught Amaris’s shirt and ripped it. She came to a halt against the center mast, striking her hip. A grunt escaped her, but she was on her feet in a moment, because Sephardi was already on the move. Amaris turned and ran.
Sephardi wanted her dead, not Theodoric. She’d give him time to wake up, or she’d lure Sephardi to the beach. She didn’t allow herself to think of another outcome. Sephardi hadn’t killed him. Theodoric wasn’t dead. Amaris wouldn’t accept anything else.
Her legs carried her in an awkward limp toward the railing.
She’d be forced to dive into the ocean, but they were close enough to shore that she could swim to land.
A sharp pain shot through her leg, and she pitched forward, slamming hard into the deck.
Amaris turned over her shoulder. A dagger protruded from the back of her thigh.
Her eyes widened, and her muscles went rigid as Sephardi approached her. A sword was in her hand as she twirled the blade. The muscles of Amaris’s leg twitched and spasmed as she attempted to shuffle back.
“What did I do to you?”
Sephardi laughed, placing the tip of her blade against Amaris’s chest. “I know who you are.”
Amaris’s lips parted. What the hell is going on? One minute a pirate had riddled her into a tailspin, and now Sephardi pressed her cold sword to her skin. It wasn’t possible. She’d said she didn’t believe in magic.
Amaris forced back the tears waiting to fall. “I didn’t kill Lord Freville.”
Sephardi kneeled, her eyes scanning Amaris and the blood starting to form under her thigh. “I know that, but you’re still an abomination. Wicked sorcery is what you are.”
Amaris’s hand curled against her thigh, fighting the sting pulsing in her leg. Sephardi wanted her dead because she was from a different world? Why did it matter? Is that what Drauna meant by a blade one day slashing Amaris’s throat?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sephardi couldn’t possibly know who she really was. Unless… “Are you working for Drauna?”
Sephardi’s brows knit together. “Drauna?” Her sword paused as it barely pierced the skin of Amaris’s chest. “There is only one god I bow to.”
Amaris bit down on her lip to suppress her scream and tried to peer around her to spy Theodoric, but she couldn’t see beyond her menacing glare. Sephardi was crazy. What did gods have to do with this?
“Think of Gris and Theodoric. Don’t turn on them.” She was desperate, clawing at anything to humanize her and bring Sephardi back to reality.
“Do you even know him?”
Amaris paused.
“Has he told you about his time overseas, what they called him?” Sephardi asked.
Amaris didn’t care what they called him. He’d survived. Theodoric had lived through the loss of his squad and his friend.
Sephardi bent down and drew her pistol, resting her elbow on her knee as she cocked it and pointed it toward Amaris. “They called him the Hydra.”
“Why?” Amaris found herself asking the question, but she wasn’t certain she wanted the answer. She’d learned too much in the last hour but had more questions spinning through her head than she could begin to process. But she needed to keep Sephardi talking.
“You cut off one head, and two more will take its place,” she said.
“When one of our soldiers was slaughtered, he grew more ferocious, cutting down the enemy. With each fall of one of our own, he killed two of them. He butchered hundreds of soldiers. His hands will forever be stained with the blood he spilled.”
Amaris swallowed. She knew he was a soldier in a war, for fuck’s sake, but hundreds of people? Her mind flashed to the montage of duels and fights with the soldiers back on the grounds, the way his body moved without thought or pain.
His soul is diseased, devouring him. Drauna’s words repeated in her mind.
“I don’t care,” Amaris said.
“You should.”
Sephardi’s eyes widened and she spun. Theodoric was there with his sword trained on her. The look that warped his eyes was one Amaris never wished to see turned on her.