Page 62 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)
ARTHIE
Laith was alive. He was in a terrible state, but he was alive. Arthie tried not to give the Ram the reaction she was waiting for, but it was impossible. No matter what Laith was now, he had been a part of their crew. He had been a part of Arthie’s life.
Even if she’d shot him and left him for dead—twice. Even if he’d shot her and left her for dead in turn.
“Are you proud of yourself for torturing him?” Arthie asked. “Is that what this is about?”
Beside the Ram, Laith let out a quiet snort. The Ram shifted Calibore to her other hand, and Arthie did her utmost not to drop her gaze to it.
There was a bond between her and the pistol, one Arthie, despite her adamance for staying realistic, knew existed only because she acknowledged that the pistol was sentient.
It cared for her as she cared for it. The Ram couldn’t replicate such an alliance no matter how she tried.
She could barely nurture a bond with her own daughter.
“It won’t do what you want it to,” Arthie said.
The Ram aimed it at her. “No?”
Laith made a sound.
“Oh, what was that?” the Ram asked. “Are you concerned for the girl I put in your charge?” She looked at Arthie. “I don’t care about magic or whatever ridiculous notions you believe it possesses. What matters is its importance to the Arawiyan throne.”
Its importance to the Arawiyan throne was exactly why Laith had come to Ettenia with his now-dead sister.
She had been tasked with retrieving the pistol to stave off conquest, for Calibore was more than a gun, more than a shape-shifting weapon.
It was one of the many artifacts the kingdom was trying to return to its own coffers, each filled with insurmountable magic, each as integral to the kingdom’s survival as a skilled army was to any other.
The Ram might not care for magic, but it was clear to Arthie what she wanted just then.
She wanted to colonize Arawiya.
Her greed had no end. She had colonized Ceylan and Jeevant Gar. She had colonized parts of Qirilan and other countries too. Arawiya was one of the largest kingdoms near Ettenia, and its sheer size was likely why the Ram had never touched it.
With Calibore, she could.
This time, Arthie couldn’t school her features quickly enough.
“Indeed,” the Ram said with a level of smugness Arthie wanted to wipe clean. “You can thank the high captain here for that. Though, to his credit, he did try to keep his mouth shut.”
How strange it was to know that a single artifact could open the door to such an atrocity.
Arthie might not have been able to stop the Ettenians from sweeping into Ceylan or Jeevant Gar or any of the other kingdoms and countries, but she could stop this. She had nothing but the silver dose in her pocket and the key she’d swiped, but she would find a way.
Laith spat a bloody mess at the Ram’s feet.
The Ram hmm ed in response, and one of the men twisted Laith’s ear until he croaked.
Arthie toyed with the key in her fingers. How easy it would be to unlock her cuffs and free herself. To wrestle Calibore from the Ram’s hands and shoot her in the throat, watching the life bleed out of her.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a tribute to prepare for,” the Ram said. “Strap him to the chair and lock the door; I don’t need another escapee.”
“Are you just going to leave me here too?” Arthie asked.
“We discussed this already, didn’t we? Am I going to leave the brains of the Casimir crew here, rendering the rest of that sorry gang useless?” the Ram asked. “Yes.”
The men threw Laith unceremoniously onto the chair, wrenching his arms and locking them behind him. Then they knocked him unconscious for good measure.
“What about her?” one of the men asked.
The Ram regarded her, turning Calibore over in her hands. Dangling it in front of Arthie. When she’d chosen to give herself up, she hadn’t chosen to give up her pistol too.
“Sit down and watch her.” She glanced at the second man. “Bring him a stake too, just in case.”