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From the deck of the ship, I stare up at the sky. Sweat should drain from every pore in my body. Instead, my muscles simply feel out of my reach, and I can hardly find the words to speak amidst the concentration I must maintain.

As I lie there, waiting for strength to return to my limbs, I listen to the panaceum beating away in Threydan’s chest. It is agonizing to be so aware of it yet separated by layers of meat and bone. This is the object that could be the answer to Threydan’s end, but he has made himself one with it, so he cannot be parted from it.

Unless …

It wasn’t Threydan’s heart I stabbed when he was in that ice coffin.

It was thepanaceum. That is how I bonded us. That is how the transformation started. I’d chipped at it. And once he started to hear my memories, he let me in. Let me start to become as he is …

Threydan is not the only one the panaceum obeys now. I am just as bound to it.

Do the undead not attempt to listen to me just as they do Threydan? Am I not capable of sharingallhis powers now? He said no one could take the panaceum from him.

But that was back when I was human.

I’m not human anymore.

No, he made it perfectly clear that I was to be exactly as he is. The only one who could share the panaceum’s powers with him.

Let’s put that to the test.

It takes several tries, but eventually I find my feet.

“Can’t I have a few more minutes, dearest?” Threydan asks as he tries to roll up first onto his knees and then his feet. He nearly falls twice. When he does manage to stand, he hunches considerably.

I tighten my grip on my rapier before charging at him. Threydan doesn’t seem to have the energy to do anything at all but let me ram him through the center. I drive him backward with every bit of strength left in me. Eventually the tip of my sword connects with the mainmast, skewering Threydan thoroughly to it.

“Thanks for that,” he says cheekily. “Nice to have something else holding me up for a bit.”

I reach in my clothing for a knife. I slam Threydan’s right hand against the wood, force his fingers open, and drive the point through his open palm.

My second knife is in my hands before he can react to the first. It impales his left hand to the mast on his other side.

He laughs. “You can’t kill me, so now you mean to trap me? I’ve dug myself out of cave-ins and bodies and more. I will free myself from this, too, Sorinda. Your mind will tire eventually. The undead will free me.”

He kicks me, sending me back several feet. I reach into my boot for a third knife and throw it. It slides through his right leg at the ankle, pinning him place.

Throw until you miss.

I grab another knife and hurl it with the practiced ease of one who has thrown knives every day of her life for thirteen years. My aim rarely fails me, especially when I’m desperate.

“Sorinda, stop this foolishness.”

I throw another knife, first through his right shoulder, then another through his left. When he tries to get leverage with his thighs, I pin them in place with knives around the edges of the limbs.

I throw and throw until he’s plastered against that mast with no hope of moving.

Until I have only one knife left.

Threydan laughs as I approach him. Using the tip, I draw an X right over his heart.

That silences him.

“What are you doing?” Threydan asks.

Before his skin can heal itself, I shove my hand into his chest. I place my knife between two of his ribs and use the leverage to crack the top one.

Threydan cannot feel the pain of it, but he screams anyway. “Stop it! Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now!”