Chapter 32
YOU CAN’T WIN
ODELIA
I should have stolen the keys and run the moment we hit Whitestone Harbor.
I know we’re moving, but the sun hasn’t set yet, so we can’t have gone far. Rune hasn’t come back since he tied me. The ropes are a point made rather than an honest attempt to hold me. The thought makes my blood boil.
Yes, I’d hid the name my father preferred.
Anyone would have. It’s what I’d run from.
A name attached to a cowled, blood-soaked woman I’d wanted to leave behind.
And who would admit to years of crimes once they found themselves in a brig with a chance to get free?
And Reid. Goddamned Reid. He’d left me no choice.
Can Rune fault me for protecting his crew?
Some blood needs spilling. Like any of the other monsters we’ve faced.
But instead of understanding, Rune turned on me. And worse, a fraction of me had hoped there might be a chance he’d understand.
Odelia Nisse Ivor.
I’ll never forget the disgust. The way he hissed my name and it hit the air like a brand. Like something I’ll never escape.
He’s right.
I’ve been fooling myself. Playing nice with the good folk like I had a chance of existing beside them.
Like they would never find out who I really am beneath—who he made me.
But this is it. This is all I am. A killer that will always be caught in the end.
A dagger always a hairsbreadth away from splitting flesh.
The door opens and I bare my teeth as bright sunlight bursts through, piercing my eyes. Rune steps in, and his cool gaze settles on me, empty, expressionless.
I hate him for his control, for the angry tears that try to well in my eyes. I don’t deserve this. Not his anger nor his shock. He never expected better from me.
Did he?
“I thought enough time had passed that we might discuss how things will be moving forwards.”
I let all the loathing show in my face, but don’t speak.
“Odelia—” he sighs, like I’m being impossible, like something between us hadn’t snapped when he tied me here.
“You said you trusted me.” I look away then, unwilling to share the hurt I know will be clear on my face.
My throat is dry as I swallow, sticking, trying to choke me.
Just like before, when he’d left me without water, when I was nothing to him, worse than nothing.
Filth unworthy of even the basic human consideration.
He sighs again, then sits in the chair that waits by the desk and weaves his fingers together, elbows resting on his knees. He studies me for a moment before his voice fills the room. “I did.”
The words pierce me as well as any blade.
“This is why I couldn’t tell you,” I argue, trying my damndest to hold back the pain that’s trained to turn into anger. “No one would ever trust me if they knew. This is why I ran. Why I can never stop running.”
His voice is cold. “And Reid got in the way of that, did he?”
I try not to flinch at the accusation in his voice. This is exactly my point. When he sees me, he sees Ivor. Just like the mainland healers when my mother had spilled gold at their feet and begged them to heal her. They’d jailed her instead, and she died.
Ivor is a blight. And being connected to him means no one will look past the rot of his blood in my veins.
“I told you exactly what he did,” I say, shoving the thoughts away. “He said he’d find a way to tell Ivor you harbored me. None of you would have stood a chance if he found us.” I laugh, but it’s bitter. “I gave him so many chances. So many warnings. I put him down, but he kept getting back up—”
“Enough—”
“No it’s not enough, Rune.” My legs bounce, bursting with potential energy, but the ropes won’t let me stand. “You’ll feed yourself to Ivor anyway.”
Rune is a thundercloud, his body tense, his expression darker than I’ve ever seen it. “Tell me he doesn’t deserve to die.”
Another dry swallow. I can’t explain the pinch in my chest. “It doesn't matter. You can’t win.”
A hint of that cocky smirk ghosts over his face, sending unexpected warmth barrelling into my chest. “You underestimate me.”
I deflate beneath the crush of emotion. I can’t convince him. He’s already made up his mind.
“Odi.” The name is softer than it should be. “Have some faith. I’ve got more than just my own crew at my disposal, if I need it. No more needless sacrifices.”
The idea lifts my spirit, but the worry still swirls in my gut. “Fine,” I say.
“Fine.”
For a moment, the only sound is the dull rush of ocean water and the slow creak of the ship. “Remind me again why you’ve graced me with your presence?”
His unfocused eyes train back on me. “To discuss our arrangement moving forwards.”
I pull up my tied wrists and go on in mock cheer. “Back to pseudo-brig, right? Me. Rope. No water? Discussion had. On to the key and our separate ways.”
“Tavi is pissed.”
The words halt the stream of sarcasm. “Good.” Any self-respecting bounty hunter would be, I suppose.
He huffs a laugh. “No, not good. Not good for you. Not good for me. She’s placated for now, but I need you to promise me if she gets in your face you won’t strike first. I can’t imagine either of you would walk away.”
“You underestimate me,” I mock. “I’m not going to hurt Tavi. I like Tavi.” Another ache pinches in my chest.
I have to get out of here. I have to get off this ship, away from them. I can’t afford the feelings that put me at a disadvantage. I’m honestly not sure I could draw a blade on her if I wanted to.
“What about Otto?” I clench my teeth, shocked the question had made it out without conscious thought. Otto has every reason to hate me, to blame me, but . . .
Some of the darkness leaves his eyes. “Otto is . . . Otto.” One side of his mouth lifts, sending butterflies to my traitorous stomach and tears once again well to my eyes.
I’ve never allowed this level of emotion before, and I hate how powerless it makes me feel.
“He sent up two plates of vegetables. I thought you hadn’t told him yet. ”
“Otto is twice the man I’ll ever be. But he isn’t into holding grudges. I think he thinks he knows you too well.” For a moment, he studies me curiously, like he wants to ask something but won’t.
Any anger that made a home in me is extinguished, swallowed by the tide of emptiness that always follows. I know he can see the void in me, but my mouth works independently of my brain, asking before fear of the answer might stop me. “What about you?”
The silence that stretches between us could rival the bottom of the sea.
I watch him tuck his feelings away, my heart sinking deeper and deeper.
His face turns to stone over his slate-grey shirt.
His broad shoulders solidify. “We’re headed for the last island.
If you betray me, or turn on anyone on this crew in any way, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.
We get the treasure. You pick an island for us to drop you on.
After that, your plans are none of my business. And mine aren’t yours.”
The rope around my wrists is soft, fraying slightly. I keep my eyes glued there, unable to bring myself to look at him. “Thank you.” The words don’t taste foreign now, but the ache in my chest makes the realisation a bitter one.
Rune stays a moment longer, the air between us charged with things unsaid. Eventually, he moves, the thud of his boots too loud as he goes.
When the door slams I flinch, then let myself fall back on the bed as the lock clicks closed.
I don’t count the days that pass. The light through the round window brightens and dulls in warm hues, pink, then orange, then yellow, darkening and lightening as the sun makes its rounds.
Over and over I beg my body to let me fall into slumber, and for the most part, it does.
I pass the rest of the time trying not to think, but for some reason it only brings the animal side of me forward.
I retreat, and she’s there, alert even when I’m in a haze.
I don’t shift, I think, but sometimes I wake to antlers on my head all the same.
Every now and then, voices rise—Rune, Tavi, Soraya, it’s always the same. The words are muted by the wood of the door and the crash of the sea, but my name comes up more than once. Food appears at random. It’s Rune that delivers it, and each time I see him my chest aches all over again.
Some of my dreams are nightmares, but others are of him. Of the night we shared. Of the clawing, grasping, greedy thing between us that was sated in full. I wake smiling, his song in my head, his infuriating grin still wrapped around my mind.
Then reality sweeps in, reminding me of the only truth that’s kept me grounded.
This isn’t the life I wanted.
I wanted land. Safety. The freedom to shift and fly through endless green. To run, as fast and as far as my legs could take me.
My mother was a soft, hopeful thing. She’d loved so hard she let a man split her soul between soil and sea. In another life, maybe I could have stood doing the same.
In another life, maybe my father hadn’t carved every last piece of her out of me.