Twelve

The boat creaked and groaned as Safire stumbled up the narrow hall. For every step she took, she paused to press her palm to the damp wall, steadying herself as the rocking boat threw her off balance.

The steps were wet. When she emerged onto the deck, she realized why. Rain lashed her face and arms, soaking her clothes and collecting on her eyelashes. Lightning brightened the angry clouds above, giving Safire a momentary view of the deck, which was clear of crew. Only a single man stood watch, facing the sea, his back to her.

Beneath the dim light of the deck lamps, Safire made her way to the starboard side, where the rowboat was kept. Her clothes clung to her. Her teeth clattered with cold. The ship rocked, and a wave rolled over the deck, submerging it completely, soaking Safire up to her knees and nearly knocking her over.

Thinking this was it, that they were going under, she lunged for the side and clung on.

But the ship rose up, unfazed, and soon the deck was clear of water.

When the lightning flashed again, instead of reaching for the rowboat, Safire caught sight of the waves below. Huge and black, they crashed against the hull of the ship, high as the palace walls.

Safire’s stomach rolled over itself. She forced the queasy feeling down as her grip on the wet wood tightened.

What am I doing?

Safire couldn’t swim. She’d never rowed a boat before in her life, never mind in the middle of a storm. She reached into her pocket, touching the smooth glass face of the compass she’d stolen, trying to find her courage.

I must warn Asha, she thought. And this might be my only chance.

She had the compass. She knew the scrin was somewhere in the Star Isles, and the Star Isles were northwest. All she needed was to climb into the rowboat, lower it down . . .

Again, lightning flashed.

Safire stood frozen in fear as she stared into the inky chaos below.

Count to three, she told herself. On three, you’re going to get into the boat, then cut the ropes.

Safire swiped at her rain-soaked eyes.

One . . .

She sucked in a breath.

Two . . .

She bent her knees, ready to spring over the side.

Three!

Before she could jump, a hand clamped around her arm, fingers digging in hard.

“Are you out of your damned mind?”

Safire’s spine straightened.

“Turn around.” Eris’s voice battled the rain. “Nice and slow.”

Safire kept one hand on the wood so that the rocking ship didn’t pitch her overboard, then did as she was told.

In the dim light of the oil lamp overhead, Safire found Eris standing before her, pale hair slicked against her face, rain running down her skin. She had the stolen throwing knife in her hand, pointed at Safire’s chest.

Safire pressed herself up against the ship’s side, waiting for Eris to haul her back into that room.

Instead, Eris let go of her arm. Stepping in close, her gaze bored into Safire’s. Something had changed in her. Earlier Eris had been weary and worn, but now she seemed wide awake.

Her green eyes seemed brighter. Her skin luminous as starlight. Her smile dangerous.

She seemed . . . more than human.

Safire should have been thinking of the best way to get that knife out of her hand. Instead, she couldn’t look away.

What are you?

Eris glanced over Safire’s shoulder, to the rowboat, then the waves beyond it. “That storm will crush you, princess.” She looked back at Safire like one would at a child who’d just attempted something utterly foolish.

As if she found the escape attempt cute.

Indignation blazed through Safire. She flipped out the blade in her boot, planning to kick, grab her knife, then vault herself into the rowboat.

Before she could do any of those things, a deep and growling voice interrupted.

“How touching.”

Eris stiffened.

Safire glanced up, over Eris’s shoulder, to find three figures standing on the deck. In the light of the oil lamps, she could just make out a young man and two women.

Other than Eris, Safire hadn’t noticed any women on Jemsin’s crew. She looked to the man standing on night watch and found him struggling with one of the invading pirates. Before he could alert the crew below, he suddenly dropped to the deck and out of Safire’s view—dead or unconscious, she couldn’t say which.

“Drop the knife.”

Eris’s gaze held Safire’s, a warning in her eyes as she did as he commanded, letting go of Safire’s knife. It clattered to the wooden planks and when the ship surged again, went skittering across the deck.

It was when Eris stepped away, turning to face the three newcomers, that Safire saw the massive black silhouette, looming beyond the deck on the leeward side.

Another ship?

Safire looked from the second ship to the young man now standing directly before her.

“So nice to see you alive, Kor,” said Eris. “Where’d you get the ship?”

“From a well-wisher,” said the one called Kor. Turning to one of the young women beside him, he said: “Find it.” The girl nodded, then disappeared down the steps leading into the darkened galley. She emerged a moment later with what looked like a spindle. The one Safire found earlier under Eris’s pillow.

At the sight of it, Eris’s whole body went rigid.

Safire suddenly remembered the day of her first encounter with the legendary Death Dancer. Eris had been disguised as a soldat then. The two of them collided, and she’d dropped her spindle. Not knowing who she was then, Safire picked it up and handed it back to her.

Kor cocked his head, studying Safire in the light of the lamps. Safire studied him back. He was missing one ear and his wet hair was pulled back in a braid. His face bore what looked like fresh burn scars, red and blistered, and he held himself rigidly, his mouth a tight grimace, as if every breath caused him pain. It made Safire wonder if there were other wounds hidden beneath his clothes.

The boat rocked suddenly, and Safire nearly slipped. Her knife slid slowly across the deck and out of reach.

“Grab her,” said Kor. He turned to Eris. “I’ll take care of this fiend.”

It was clear Kor hadn’t come for Safire; he’d come for Eris. Maybe, if Safire could convince him that Eris was her enemy, too, that she and Kor were on the same side, he would let her go. So when the pirates descended on her, Safire didn’t put up a fight. Just let the two girls force her across the deck, to the leeward side, where one of them laid a wooden board down across the gap from this ship to the next. The space between the two vessels was the length of three horses, while the wooden board itself was no wider than Safire’s boot.

“You first,” said a voice at Safire’s ear just before they shoved her forward.

Her hands clutched the damp wood. It was slick beneath her skin.

Safire stared down into the ravenous waves and swallowed hard.

“Nice and easy,” said Eris, whose hands were bound in front of her now. Kor had a fistful of her blond hair in one hand, a dagger pressed to her neck with the other. Eris stared at Safire. “One step at a time.”

Safire climbed onto the board.

The boat rocked and groaned, and Safire nearly fell backward. She threw her arms out and fought for balance, doing exactly as Eris said: taking one small step at a time. She thought of Asha. How she needed to survive this so she could warn her. How she needed to just get to the other ship.

The rain lashed. The waves roared. The ships rose and fell with the waves. Her foot slipped more than once; and more than once, she thought she was going to fall. But every time, she found her balance. And then the other ship’s deck was beneath her, and there were hands grabbing her, and she was so relieved to still be alive, she didn’t care that their touch burned like fire. Didn’t care when they dragged her belowdecks and threw her to the floor so hard, pain laced through her knees.

Safire counted the pirates in the room, assessed them for weapons, and found the exits. Then she kept her eyes on her captors. She needed to do everything she could to stay alive. If she wanted to convince these pirates she was on their side, she needed to first be compliant.

So she stayed on her knees, biding her time.

They threw Eris down beside her. The girl’s palms hit the floor with a smack and she shook out her hair, sending rain flying.

They were in a long room—half the length of the ship—and on both sides were wide windows streaked with rain. Torches burned every few feet, keeping the room lit.

On the deck above them, someone gave the order to depart.

It seemed odd to Safire that these pirates had boarded Jemsin’s ship, stolen only one of his crew—plus a hostage—then left as quickly as they’d come.

Why?

The sound of booted footsteps made Eris flinch beside her. Safire glanced over to find the girl staring at the floor, her gaze boring into the wood beneath her. As if she were trying to think her way out of this.

“Who are they?” Safire whispered.

“Pirates,” Eris whispered back.

Helpful, thought Safire. “What do they want?”

And why haven’t you escaped already?

She thought of Eris on that last night back in Firgaard: there one moment, gone the next. However she’d eluded Safire that night, surely Eris could elude these pirates the same way?

Eris didn’t answer. Because at that moment, the boots stopped directly before her. Eris’s jaw clenched just before she looked up.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” Kor said. He held the spindle in his hand, squeezing it so hard, Safire was sure he’d snap it in half. “After you torched my ship and ran?”

Safire didn’t like the way he looked at Eris. She’d seen that same look before, in another man’s eyes. Possessive and ravenous.

“Honestly,” said Eris, holding his gaze, “I was thinking you might be dead.”

Kor’s face darkened. He handed the spindle to one of the pirates beside him, wincing from some hidden pain, then grabbed a fistful of Eris’s hair. Looking to Safire, he said, “Is this her? The trollop you were with in Firgaard?”

Safire felt all the gazes in the room turn to her.

With them came a sharp realization.

What? she thought, instantly appalled. “No,” she said. “Gods, no.” She looked to Eris, her wet shirt clinging to her thin frame, tendrils of wheat-colored hair plastered to her pale skin. “Not in a hundred years.”

Eris refused to meet her gaze.

“You two looked awfully cozy on Jemsin’s deck. Didn’t you think so, Rain? Lila?”

Safire looked to the first girl—tall and muscular with a nest of red hair and a bird tattoo on her forearm.

“Very cozy,” said Rain, staring hard.

The girl named Lila crossed her arms and smirked at Safire. “Coziest pair I ever saw.”

Safire needed to make it clear she was in no way associated with the criminal beside her.

“I was trying to escape,” she told them, shaking her head in disgust. “She kidnapped me. Then tortured me. She would have watched Jemsin kill me tomorrow if you hadn’t boarded his ship and taken us hostage.”

Rain and Lila exchanged glances.

The boat suddenly dipped and Safire’s stomach lurched.

“Come on, Kor,” said Eris, kneeling now, her back straight as she stared at him. “You really think I’m the kind of girl who goes in for spoiled princesses?”

A strange silence bled through the room as eyes met.

“Is that true?” Kor demanded, staring Safire down. “You’re a princess?”

Safire caught Eris’s gaze, which was sharp as a honed blade.

“I’m not—” she said.

“She’s the dragon king’s cousin,” Eris interrupted her.

Safire glared.

Eris ignored it, continuing. “Jemsin found her spying and took her prisoner.”

“Really.” Kor’s gaze slid over Safire, studying her bright blue eyes and tanned skin. He was comparing her, no doubt, to what he knew of the king’s line. Of draksor complexions in general. But Safire had never looked like her cousins. Had never looked like anyone in the palace. She didn’t fit there—a fact she’d spent her life being constantly reminded of. A fact she could clearly see in Kor’s eyes.

“I don’t care who she is,” Kor decided, drawing his dagger. “I think a trade is in order, don’t you? You hurt me, Eris. Now I’m going to hurt your sweetheart.”

“I’m not—”

“What should I take from her?” Kor cut Safire off, circling them both. Eris said nothing. “An ear? A hand? Your choice, Eris.”

With her first plan going up in flames, Safire glanced at the knife hilt protruding from his boot. If she could seize it . . .

Eris sighed, almost lazily. She shook her head. “This is your problem, Kor. You take everything so personally.”

Kor’s knuckles tightened around his weapon.

“Let’s play this out, shall we?” Eris pressed. “Let’s say you’re right, that I’m out of my damned mind and in love with a Firgaardian princess.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s say that’s true. So, because you’re mad at me, you maim her.” Eris paused. “Then what?”

Kor narrowed his eyes, keeping his dagger raised.

“First”—Eris raised one graceful finger, which was when Safire realized her hands were manacled together—“you’ll enrage Jemsin. She’s his prisoner, and you can be sure he’ll give chase once he finds her gone. And second”—Eris raised another finger—“you’ll have the entire Firgaardian army—not to mention that cousin of hers, the one with the dragon?—on your tail.”

Safire stared at Eris. These were the exact same reasons Safire gave aboard Jemsin’s ship. The ones Eris easily refuted.

Is she trying to protect me?

Safire shook off the thought, reminding herself that Eris still needed to find Asha and deliver her to Jemsin. And only Safire knew where Asha was. Nothing had changed. Eris was just a desperate girl protecting her own interests.

“You might be able to outrun them for a day or two,” Eris was saying. “But then either the dragon will have reduced you and your ship to a pile of flotsam or you’ll be spending the rest of your miserable life in the king’s prison.” She smiled up at Kor, her green eyes sparkling. “It’s up to you. But at least think before you do something stupid.”

Kor’s eyes flashed. He grabbed a fistful of Eris’s shirt and pressed the edge of the blade to her throat. His hand was steady, but his eyes were feverish.

Eris didn’t cry out. Didn’t even break his gaze.

But Safire saw the tremble in her shoulders.

She also saw that beneath Kor’s steady anger simmered the red craze of desire. It reminded her of Jarek, wanting Asha. Needing to either have her or harm her.

Kor could never have Eris. Safire saw this clear on the girl’s face. And if Safire saw it, so did Kor.

In that moment, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to open Eris’s throat.

Before he could, Safire burst out: “I knew a man like you once.”

The blaze in Kor’s eyes flickered. He turned his burned face to Safire, but still kept his blade pressed hard to Eris’s skin.

“His name was Jarek and he commanded the king’s army. Whatever he said, people did.” Safire felt the dark memories creep over her. Only this time, she let them. “He thought he could have whatever he wanted. And what he couldn’t have, he tried to destroy.”

Kor narrowed his eyes at her. “And why should I care about this man?”

Safire lifted her gaze to his face. “Because I’m the one who buried a knife in his heart.”

Into the silence of the room, the ship creaked.

The hunger drained out of Kor. Something far more dangerous rushed in to replace it. He shoved Eris, who fell back. From the corner of her eye, Safire saw the girl touch her throat, then study the blood on her fingertips.

Kor crouched down before Safire now, his face level and so close with hers she could see the open sores of his freshly burned skin. “Let me tell you something about Jemsin’s precious Death Dancer. That girl there?” He nodded toward Eris. “She’s an enemy of the empress. Seven years ago, she set fire to a temple full of people. Half of them children. Not a single one of them escaped.”

Safire drew away from Eris. What?

She’d known the Death Dancer was a thief. But a murderer?

Eris’s voice went taut as rope as she said, “Who told you that?”

Kor rose to his feet. “An eleven-year-old girl burns down a temple, killing dozens, and manages to escape the hordes of Lumina tracking her? Manages to elude them for seven years? There’s no ordinary girl who could do that.” Linking his hands behind his back, he began to walk in circles around Eris. “And then there’s the strange matter of Jemsin sending you away whenever he meets with the empress. As if he doesn’t want you seen by her.” Kor stopped circling and looked down at the top of her head. “I put the rest together myself. I’ve been putting it together for a while now, in fact. I intended to keep your secret . . . but then you burned down the Sea Mistress.”

Safire looked to find Eris staring hard at the floor.

“It was Leandra who came to our aid. She’s the one who lent me this ship.” He waved his hand at the room around them. “If I bring in her fugitive, she’ll give me a reward big enough to buy an entire fleet of ships. Do you know what that means for me? Freedom, Eris. No more living in Jemsin’s shadow. No more coming and going like a dog. Soon I won’t just be captain of my own ship, I’ll be captain of my own fleet. And then I will be the fiercest pirate on the Silver Sea.” Kor made a fist. “So you better pray to that god of yours tonight. Because tomorrow we reach the Star Isles.”

Safire’s head snapped up. The Star Isles. That was where Asha was. Which meant that once they reached the islands, all she had to do was escape and find her way to the scrin.

A tender spark of hope lit her up.

Eris went very still beside her.

“That’s right,” Kor smirked. “I’m handing you over to the Lumina.”

Safire found a ghost of a girl staring out through Eris’s eyes. At Kor’s mention of the islands, the color had drained from her face.

The boat rocked. The nausea swept through Safire again and she planted her hands on the deck, trying to shake it.

The girl named Rain hauled her to her feet, then marched her up the steps, out into the storm and across the slick deck, then down a narrow hall. Rain threw her into a room the size of a closet, then tossed Eris in after her.

The moment they locked the door, the ship rocked again. Safire’s stomach roiled. She reached for the wall.

“I . . .”

I’m going to be sick.

Eris looked at her sharply. Right before Safire threw up.