Chapter 4
Riella killed the man. She knew she had. So, why wasn’t he dying?
Her back against the wall, she watched in confusion as he swayed on the spot, grasping at the shard blindly. His eyeballs had turned entirely black and hazy, like storm clouds. Lovel and Terrick backed away.
“Oh, you’re in trouble, girl,” said Terrick with a sneer.
The tall man gritted his teeth.
“Sirens will be the bloody death of me,” he said, closing his fingers around the shard and pulling. “I will end you for that.”
Blood spilled out as he dislodged it, dripping down his linen shirt like liquid rubies. But there was less bleeding than there should’ve been. Right before her eyes, the wound began to close, his body healing itself.
He raised his stormy gaze to her. With a jolt, she realized she was now in more danger than ever. Not only was this man enormous and strong, but apparently he was invincible, too.
Without looking away, he barked an order at his men.
“Leave us.”
“But we wanna watch you gut her—” started Terrick with a whine.
“Now!”
Lovel and Terrick stomped up the stairs, muttering to each other.
The man snatched up her wrists and slammed them into the wall again. Despite knowing she could not kill him, she struggled against his grip. She had never been this close to a man, except briefly and during active combat. The way he seemed to pin her down with not only his hands but also his intense gaze was unnerving.
Grudgingly, she could see why he was the boss, with a quality like that.
“I’ve never put fear in a siren’s eyes before,” he said in a quiet voice. His lips curled into a wicked smile. “And not for lack of trying.”
He shook his head as if shooing a fly and his eyes cleared, returning to a normal color.
Riella exhaled through her nose and looked away, her cheeks flushing. “If you kill me, you’ll restart the war with the sirens.”
She didn’t know if this was true. No one was even aware she was on the ship, except the pirates. He could easily kill her and dispose of her body without anyone finding out.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He tapped his thumbs against her wrists, like a pulse. “Now, how do you want to go? Should I repay you in kind with glass to the heart?”
Riella shifted under his grip. Her hands were going numb.
“Coward,” she spat. “You would corner me in a cell and kill me in the dark, where no one can see? Where is your honor?”
“I don’t owe you honor.” He snarled at her and drilled her wrists harder into the wall. “Your kind slaughtered my closest friends.”
“And I hope their deaths were painful! You don’t belong in the ocean, you imbecile!”
He laughed in her face, catching her by surprise. “Nor do you, any longer, so it seems.”
A set of footsteps came down the stairs. The ginger-haired man, Berolt, returned with a garment in his hands. He tossed it to her from outside the cell, staying safely behind her tormentor.
“Here you go,” he said. “Courtesy of Drue, our cabin boy. He’s the only lad on board whose clothes I thought might fit ya. They’re clean enough, I think,” he added, although he sounded doubtful.
Overhead, boots crossed the deck. There seemed to be far more than before, causing a twinge of anxiety in Riella. Her eyes darted from the trousers to the pirate who’d pinned her.
“Are you going to kill me or not?” she asked him, raising her brows. If she was going to die, it wouldn’t be with fear in her eyes or heart. “Because I would welcome death over staring into your face for a moment longer. Get on with it.”
Berolt cleared his throat loudly. “Ah, Jarin?”
“What?” replied the man without turning around.
“A word?”
“Siren,” he murmured in her face. “I will filet you if you try anything.”
While maintaining stern eye contact, the man named Jarin slowly loosened his iron grip on her wrists. She fell to the floor, her strange new limbs crumbling under her. They had to be faulty. There couldn’t be the same legs every other human walked around on with such ease.
Keeping the siren in his peripheral vision, he pulled Berolt aside.
“How’d it go?” he asked in a low voice.
“Ah, I believe he got what he was looking for. Still dunno what it is. You might have more luck getting it out of him. He loves you like a son.”
Jarin grunted. “And hates me like a rival.”
“To be fair, you are. But I have an idea?—”
Berolt lowered his voice further while Riella fumbled with the trousers. The first time she tried putting them on, she somehow managed to get them backward. They did fit well enough, though, staying up over her hips once she had them on the right way.
After hearing Berolt’s words, Jarin paused, glancing over at Riella. For some time, he continued muttering back and forth with his crew mate, and she heard very little of it. Not that she cared about the plotting of pirates. She only cared about leaving this ship. And decapitating Jarin, if she could manage it. See if he could survive that.
Berolt darted up the stairs and returned less than a minute later, handing tools to Jarin.
“Siren,” he barked, striding to her with a mallet and chisel. He stood over her, pointing the mallet. “I’m going to remove your manacles. If you attack me, I will cave in your pretty little skull.”
She glared up at him, grinding her teeth. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options. With a jerk of her head, she nodded her assent.
“There’s been a change of plan.” He squatted in front of her. “I’ll make you a deal. I will let you off this ship when we arrive at Klatos, if you kill the captain. Artus.”
“You’re not the captain?”
“No. Second in command.”
Riella blinked. “So, you want me to kill . . . the leader of the Dark Tide Clan?”
She would’ve done that for free, and for fun, but she kept that to herself.
“That’s right. I need him dead, and none of us can do it.”
“Why not?”
“Blood oath. You wouldn’t understand.”
She scoffed. “Because pirates are so mysterious and complex. No one could possibly fathom the depths of your stupid rules and covenants.”
He shrugged. “Take it or leave it. But I’d still owe you death, siren, to be clear.”
Despite her rage and annoyance, Riella thought of Seraphine. The elf would perish if Riella left her with Polinth. She had to get back to the Black Cliffs.
“Sure, I’ll kill him,” said the siren. “But then you’ll take me to the Black Cliffs. And if you want to kill me, it’s in a fair fight. Not while I’m slumped in the brig of your stinky ship.”
A flash of curiosity crossed his features. “What’s at the Black Cliffs?”
“Yes or no?”
He grabbed both chains with one hand and wrenched her toward him without warning. She pitched forward, barely catching herself with her knees. Her feet and toes grappled with the dirty floor, trying to gain purchase while he held the chains steady.
“You’ve got a deal,” said Jarin, lining up the chisel over the bolt of one of the manacles.
Berolt looked on in silence.
The commander drew the mallet high over his head. As he brought it down on the chisel, she willed herself not to flinch. The mallet made perfect contact, driving the chisel into the bolt. The manacle fell open like a clamshell. He opened the second one with the same precision.
Riella wrested her hands away, rubbing the raw skin of her wrists and sighing with relief. She prodded at the lily-white soles of her feet with her fingers, wondering how she’d get around on them. They’d be a disadvantage when fighting the captain, but she’d just have to make do.
The commander collected the chains and tools and slung them out of the cell, where they landed in a pile with a clatter. He got up and went to leave, but stopped at the last second. “How’d that happen, anyway?” he asked. “Your legs?”
“Sorcery,” she replied with a grumble.
He folded his arms, the veins prominent over his tanned muscles. “Polinth?”