Page 36 of Lore of the Tides

She tossed her head back and forth, shrieking through the gag. She couldn’t escape, she was trapped on this railing, held by her captors, suspended in wretched agony. What right had they to cut into her flesh?

To let her precious blood?

Someone gripped her other arm, cruel fingers bruising her flesh.

A third cut bloomed.

Lore screamed again as the scorching pain of dull, rusted metal ripped her skin apart; rage lanced her gut, tearing through her body and mind.

She would kill them all.

She would blind them with the light of the moon that came only whenshecalled it.

She would transform that light into diamonds, cleave them with it, flay their skin from their bodies, and feed them to the razorfins.

In her mind, she called to the grimoire, which sat locked in Syrelle’s chest on this very ship.

She demanded it come to her.

She couldn’t fall. Gods, she couldn’t fall.

She beseeched, she raged, she cried to herDeeping Lune.

Let me save myself and have revenge on these sailors.

But the grimoire did not come.

Chapter 12

Another slash, this time on her calf. Again, a gash, her ribs. They came faster now, the sailors using any sharp object they could find.

Lore blinked tears from her eyes and searched the sea forSource, for there was hardly any on this cursed ship, and finally—there!

The razorfins. The beasts themselves writhing below, gnashing their jaws, awaiting another taste of her blood... just waiting for her to fall.

She could see it.

Living, glowingSourceinside each razorfin.

Lore, desperate, gnashed her teeth against the rag in her mouth, fisted her hands, and called to theSourceforty feet below her.

When she hadDeeping Lune, she commanded moreSourcethan this.

Let her command it now.

And to her surprise, itcame.

It rose from the sea, siphoned from within the bodies of the razorfins, and swirled around her, funneling into her chest and filling her body with strength.

Lore stilled her frantic movements, her screams.

The only movements from her were her billowing skirts on thewind, her wild curls, and the steady drip drip drip of her blood onto the railing.

Thadrik wouldn’t have been able to see theSourceflowing into Lore, but he must have sensed a change in her. Or maybe it was at that moment that the grotesque fuck grasped that if they kept at this, he wouldn’t have his way. Lore would bleed out before she ever hit the water. Where was the fun in that? “That’s enough!” he shouted at the clamoring sailors. “Commander Syrelle will be on his way back by now.” Thadrik pressed into Lore, stroking her bloodied wrist with a thumb, almost gentle, almost caressing, as he savored this moment. “Time to drown, Witch,” he whispered, victorious.

He released his hold on her bonds.

She should have slipped and tumbled forward.