Chapter 5
Riella did a double-take. “Yes, it was Polinth. How’d you know?”
“I knew someone he studied with. His reputation precedes him.” He frowned at her as she struggled to stand. “You better work out how to use your legs, if you’re to hold up your end of the bargain. You’ll save me a mutiny, and you get to live another day.”
“How generous of you.”
“Hey, you stabbed me in the heart. I’ll seek retribution however I see fit. It’ll give me immense pleasure to slay you grandly, and in broad daylight, for all to see.”
“You are your mother’s son, alright,” mumbled Berolt, half to himself.
The commander gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.
Riella pulled herself onto her feet by gripping the wooden panels of the wall. The ship hit a wave, sending the bow high and the floor rocking. She stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees, causing her to hiss and spit in frustration.
“Gods, I better make sure you can walk,” said Jarin. “Artus is no puppy-dog and you’ll need the use of your legs. Go to the helm, will you?” he added to Berolt, who nodded and left up the stairs.
“I don’t need your help,” she replied, standing. “Ouch!”
The soles of her feet were uncomfortably sensitive and she’d stepped on a rock. The pirate offered his hand and she ignored it.
“Take my hand, for gods’ sake. It won’t kill you to touch a man, you know.” His gravelly voice became serious. “You need to be able to defend yourself, don’t you?”
“You threatened to kill me a minute ago!”
A deep frown creased Jarin’s brow. “Yeah. But I’m not talking about death. I’m talking about what Terrick and Lovel would do to you.”
“Oh.” Riella’s face grew warm. “Well, I was handling it.”
His frown cleared and he snorted. “That you were.” After contemplating her for a moment, he offered his hand again. “Here.”
She pushed up the sleeves of the oversized shirt and took his hand. His skin was warm and his palms were slightly calloused.
“Clothes are so uncomfortable,” she said, to distract from the strangeness of holding a man’s hand. “I don’t understand why you all wear them. Bodies aren’t shameful and they shouldn’t be something to cover up.”
“In your opinion. I don’t want to see what my crew are rocking beneath their clothes.”
Riella gained her balance, her feet flat on the rocking floor. Holding onto Jarin’s hand did help keep her steady. Her core muscles tensed, distributing her body weight evenly on her legs.
“Good point,” she conceded. “I don’t, either.”
“Go on. Take a few steps.”
Riella walked several shaky steps, frowning fiercely down at her pale feet in concentration. Jarin’s boots moved alongside her.
“Makes it all the better, though,” he murmured. “When a member of the fairer sex finally does take her clothes off for you.”
Caught off guard, she looked up at him mid-step. A wave buffeted the hull and sent her sideways. Jarin broke her fall with his arm around her waist, hauling her back to her feet.
While the waves subsided and the floor stopped careening, Riella held the pirate’s muscular forearms. For some reason, he didn’t make her skin instinctively crawl, the way the other men did, despite that he’d promised to kill her. Why was that? Because he was handsome? She would never be that shallow, would she?
She’d always thought men were all the same—probably because she’d never had cause to distinguish between them. If they were in the ocean, they were the enemy. It was simple.
But now, forced to consort with men up close, she was fast realizing it was helpful to gauge them as individuals. Polinth was vile. Berolt had shown her kindness. Terrick, vile. Lovel, vile.
Jarin? Remained to be seen. He had blackmailed her into killing someone.
“Who’s the sorcerer you know?” she asked, wanting to break the loaded silence between them. Jarin was so close she could feel the steady in and out of his breath. “The one who studied with Polinth.”
“What’s at the Black Cliffs?” he repeated, conspicuously dodging her question.
“Someone who I promised would live. And someone I promised would die. Who’s the sorcerer you know?”
A horn blared outside, sending a shiver through Riella’s body. She’d heard that ominous sound many times before. During the war, the Dark Tide Clan would use it to signal to each other’s ships that sirens were attacking. To her, it meant a fight was imminent.
Were sirens approaching the ship? Was it possible that her friends had somehow found her?
The effect of the signal on the commander was instantaneous. He released her hand and gathered up the tools and chains.
“Kill Artus the first chance you get.” He slammed the cell door shut with Riella inside. “Doesn’t need to be anything fancy—just get it done. Alright?”
“Why’s the horn sounding?” she asked, pressing her face against the cold bars.
Without answering, he took the stairs two at a time, leaving the siren alone.
Before long, she had her answer anyway. The floor tilted sharply from the force of shifting water, and men shouted. Another ship was approaching.
“Ahoy!” someone yelled. “Incoming!”
There was swearing and yelling and men running. They did not seem to be under attack, like she hoped. Indeed, some of the men whooped with glee.
To her relief, no one else came down the stairs. It seemed the Dark Tide Clan were well and truly distracted. She practiced walking while she waited to learn what was happening on deck.
The iron bars were helpful, giving her something to hold as she wobbled along the filthy floor. Sunlight beamed down the stairs as the sun rose. With relentless practice, the siren could do laps around the cell. She still felt like a mutant, but at least she would be a mutant who could walk.
The rowdiness on the deck died down, yet no one came to the brig. She was left alone for so long that she began wishing for another fight with a pirate, just for something to do.
The ship was definitely moving, and rather quickly, it seemed. Were they going to Klatos, as the commander said? He was a pirate—he very well could’ve lied. Perhaps they were en route to one of the many island hideouts controlled by the Dark Tide Clan, and he’d told her a lie to placate her.
A deserted island might not have been so bad for Riella, though. It’d be easier to locate her friends from a secluded beach than the crowded city of Klatos. Sirens avoided the city’s bay, as a rule. Humans befouled the water and the rudders of their vessels were dangerous.
At long last, boots stomped down the stairs.
An unfamiliar man approached the cell, his hands behind his back. Another figure stood in his shadow. Despite the man’s calm, impassive expression, Riella’s skin broke out in goosebumps as he surveyed her.
His black hair was graying at the temples, his cheeks were pockmarked, and his body was huge and barrel-chested. The copious tattoos and sun-worn skin told the story of a man who’d sailed the seas for a long time. He wore a red and blue jacket, frayed at the cuffs, with silver buttons.
The man smiled and she was reminded of a sea-snake, the way no warmth reached his eyes. A gold tooth glinted from one side of his mouth.
“I’m Artus, Captain of the Pandora. This is Fletch.” Riella assumed he meant the man behind him, though Artus made no gesture at him. “Jarin said I’d want to meet you.” His eyes traveled slowly down her body and up again. “He was right about that.”
When Artus looked at her, he somehow made her feel like she was still naked. She barely resisted the urge to grab his jacket collar through the bars and smash his face into them. The only reason she held back was because she didn’t trust that Jarin would keep his word once she’d killed the captain.
“Where’s Jarin now?” She flexed her fingers behind her back, ready to attack Artus when she got an answer.
“He’s carrying out my orders.” Artus produced a key from his pocket and opened the cell gate. “I’ll be seeing you safely to your destination.”
Her fingers relaxed fractionally. “My destination?”
“We’re about to dock at Klatos. I’ll take you ashore. Somewhere pleasant and fine, where you can be aided. You’re in luck, because I planned to visit this particular establishment anyway, so I’ll take you myself. Grand, is it not, to be escorted by a captain?” He beckoned, a note of impatience entering his voice. “Come, now.”
Riella chewed her lip, weighing her options. Perhaps she was better off disembarking with this captain. Unlike Jarin, Artus was offering to take her ashore without her needing to do anything in return. Once in Klatos, she could find her way to the Black Cliffs. After all, if she killed the captain now, then what? She was still in the brig of a ship crawling with pirates.
Fletch watched her through one watery eye, a patch over the other. He stood with a pronounced lean and had frizzy hair.
“Fine,” she said. “Take me ashore.”
Let Jarin kill the captain himself. She owed the commander nothing. And if he really wanted that fight with her, he could find her.
Bracing herself against the rhythmic tilt of the ship, she took a few tentative steps from the cell. A square of blue sky emerged as she climbed the stairs, seagulls floating on the air currents. The gulls meant that land was indeed nearby.
Artus poked her in the back with his finger, making her clench her fists.
“Up you go,” he said. “The city awaits.”