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“Stop breathing?”

She lifted a hand, revealing a small glass vial pinched between her fingers.

“Poison,” Seraphine said. “Inhale it, and you will die, and that wouldn’t be good, would it? I didn’t have enough time to get more antidote, so we will need to make do.”

Seraphine guided the vial to her mouth and placed it between her molars. Then she sank into the barrel and closed herself inside. All the while, my mind reeled with the fear of who had died. Who had Cassial taken from me? Or was it my own actions that led to it?

There was no knowing how long it would take for my guard to return. Minutes, maybe hours. But every second that passed left me without answers. Perhaps that was why Seraphine refused me them, because she knew me well enough. She knew how I’d act.

So, I began to scream.

I took all the physical pain, all the metal agony and balled it into a chaotic storm. And I made sure every soul on the ship heard. It wasn’t exactly a word that came out of my throat, but a string of furiously fuelled sounds.

Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded beyond the door, followed by the jingle of keys. It swung open after a beat, and a Nephilim entered. He was tall and narrow, with wings speckled black and white. I expected him to wear the tell-tale armour of the Nephilim, but it seemed my fit of screams came unexpectedly, because he was dressed in more casual attire. The closer he drew, the more I smelled the alcohol on his breath.

He shut the door behind him, but didn’t lock it.

“Shut up,” the guard demanded, hurrying toward me.

When I didn’t stop screaming, he drew back a hand and slapped it across my face. The pain was fresh and sharp. My teeth bit into my cheeks, splitting skin. Blood filled my cheeks until I gathered it up and spat it into his face.

Unbothered, I watched as the guard withdrew a familiar vial and needle. It was the same I’d used on Duncan, weakening him, punishing him, for the thing that lingered within his body. Gardineum, the golden liquid, swirled in the glass vial, the dosage far larger than anything I’d given Duncan before.

The guard didn’t just want to shut me up, he wanted to see how close to death I could get.

Focused on filling the vial, he didn’t notice Seraphine slip out from her hiding place. To be honest, I didn’t either. Not as I faced the very people that lied, tricked and used us to start a war they’d been planning for an age.

No. This was no war.

It was an extermination.

“Let us see if this shuts you up until we reach our destination,” the Nephilim growled as he moved the needle closer to my neck. “Steady now, you don’t want me slipping up where I inject.”

I snapped my teeth, fought against my bindings, all to give Seraphine more time. When the tip of the needle cut into my skin, she pounced.

Seraphine latched onto the Nephilim’s back. His eyes widened in shock, and I smiled, watching my reflection in his dark gaze. The clamp of her thighs prevented his wings from spreading, but it was the handful of grime-sodden sawdust that she stuffed into his open mouth that shut him up.

I didn’t think. Only acted. I thrust myself forwards as much as I could, cracking my forehead into his nose. The force made him gasp, allowing the sawdust in his mouth to fill his lungs.

The Nephilim began to choke. The sound was the most beautiful thing I’d heard in my life. He was forced to inhale through his nose, which turned out to be exactly what Seraphine wanted.

Then, with the elegance of an assassin queen, Seraphine spun around, took the needle and stabbed it into the Nephilim’s eye. The pop of wet flesh pleased my core. She forced the needle as deep as it could go, but it wasn’t long enough to kill him.

Just like a serpent coiling its prey, Seraphine spun around his body to face him. She clenched her teeth. I heard the crack of what sounded to be glass, the vial breaking beneath the force.

Her lips parted and Seraphine spat a coagulation of liquid onto his face.

I stopped breathing, just as she commanded. I turned my face away as a fume of gas and liquid clouded over the Nephilim’s face, drawing into his nose and spoiling his one good eye.

As the poison sank into him, Seraphine dropped like a cat, withdrew another vial from her pocket and emptied the dried contents into her mouth. I could only hope it was the antidote she mentioned… the only one she had.

Thank Altar, the Nephilim was the only one to die in this room. He dropped to his knees, skin peeling freely, blood running down his ruined face. Wherever his hands clawed, more peeled away. A few enjoyable seconds later, and his body thumped against the sawdust-, vomit- and grime-covered floor.

I was breathless from adrenaline, reeling off the death this monster deserved. Seraphine looked down at him, waiting for proof that the poison had worked. When a purple-toned liquid began to spill out of his nose and ears, pooling beneath his melted face, she sprang into action.

“Neat trick,” I said, bile scorching my throat.

“Turns the brain to mush,” Seraphine said, already reaching for something tied to the Nephilim’s belt. Her hand withdrew, holding the set of keys. “Risky way of doing it, but I really didn’t have long to decide which poison I was bringing with me. I had to pack light.”