Page 43 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Forty-Three

I eyed the boats dubiously. They were sitting far too low in the water, all loaded up with barrels of oil and tar as they were, and I had to remind myself that this had been my idea. If it hadn’t been, I might have called the whole thing ludicrous and refused to get in the boat. They were small, weather-beaten things that bobbed against the rickety old jetty as the swell rose and fell. Esario had procured them from a village not far down the coast, and it looked like the villagers didn’t feel much in the way of patriotism and gave him their oldest and least seaworthy craft for his coin. I’d never been on a boat before, let alone one that looked so dangerously close to sinking in the dead of night on an ocean that seemed perpetually bad tempered.

‘They’re smaller than I expected,’ Daethie said. She looked even smaller and frailer than usual, all dressed in dark colours as she was, mirroring me in her men’s pants, her blond hair tied beneath a black scarf.

‘That’s so they won’t see us,’ I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt as I eyed Goras. He looked like he might sink one of the boats singlehandedly if he climbed aboard. But he’d insisted on being included in the sabotaging party when he realised Daethie would be going with me. He didn’t seem to trust that the twenty others in our company—Oceatold’s finest, I was told—could look after her. He stood with his arms folded, biceps bulging, frowning at the boats like he was also wondering how they’d hold up beneath his bulk.

Why Daethie herself had insisted on being included was less clear. She dodged the question when I’d asked, smiling vaguely in that way she had that I was beginning to suspect masked sharper intentions than anyone gave her credit for. She gnawed at her thumbnail as more of the soldiers stepped aboard the boats. They could carry only five passengers in each, with some of the more heavily laden ones carrying only three or four. They were stained with blood and guts and ink within and had a decidedly fishy smell to them.

‘This is a good plan, isn’t it?’ I asked Daethie, leaning in to speak the question quietly.

‘I suppose we’ll find out,’ she replied, smiling as she waved me forwards. ‘Come on. It’s not likely to get any better the longer we wait.’

I felt almost instantly nauseous as I settled onto a damp bench seat that dipped and swayed beneath me. Gripping my stomach, I stared hard at the beam of light cast by a guttering torch at the front of the boat, which illuminated little more than the shifting waves as we cast off. Aether’s teeth, I was glad I wouldn’t be aboard the bloody thing for long. We struck out toward open ocean as we moved to round the cliff that jutted out to cradle the harbor, sails tight with wind as the boat cut through the water. As we neared the point, Captain Dorne—the rusty-bearded man who’d shared his liquor with me by the campfire and the leader of this expedition—extinguished the lamp. The silhouettes of the ships we were there to destroy came into view as we turned into the harbor and any voices died away. Many of the ships carried lights aboard that made them easy to spot, likely manned by an anchor watch, I’d been told. A handful of men who ensured the ship’s safety. One of our biggest concerns. There’d also likely be patrols at the shore and along the docks, but we had no idea how many soldiers we’d be expecting to encounter.

Silently, and with no acknowledgement or goodbye, the boats carrying the barrels began to peel away, striking out towards the anchored ships until only one other boat remained with us as we navigated towards the docks in the dark. Captain Dorne and his men drew down the sails, attempting to render us invisible, and then they dipped oars into the sea and began to row. Each splash of the oars wound me tighter and tighter with tension. We would surely be discovered early and then what? What if they fired on us and sank us? I wasn’t much in the way of a swimmer. If I went into the water, I’d likely never come out again.

But then a spike of pier was looming out of the dark and one of the men jumped onto it, making quick work of tying off the boat with a few coils of rope, holding it just long enough for the rest of us to climb out and join him. The last man in the boat ripped up a few of the boards, the crack of wood making me wince at its volume. Water was already pouring into the hull by the time he’d abandoned it and the ropes were cast away, setting the little boat free to find itself a watery grave. We couldn’t risk it being seen, though now we had no way back. Our only option was to proceed with the plan.

And to win.

‘That way,’ hissed Dorne, gesturing towards where a stack of barrels offered some cover as the second boat pulled up and another five soldiers joined us on the pier, scuttling their own craft. ‘Quickly.’ We darted across the open space, planks creaking softly beneath our feet until we reached the barrels and were able to duck into relative cover. I scanned the pier as I peeked around the side of a barrel, noting the flickering lights of lanterns, the moving shadows of a pair of soldiers on the quay. They looked to be holding hands of cards, playing over a crate between them. I could hear their voices in the quiet night, with only the wind for competition, though they were too far away to make out what they were saying. It was a miracle they hadn’t seen us, even cloaked in night as we were.

‘We’ll have to deal with them,’ I whispered, my voice scraping the quiet.

‘We don’t want to get into a skirmish,’ Dorne whispered back. ‘We don’t want to let anyone know we’re here until we’re ready.’

‘We can’t just hide here waiting for the signal. We’re too exposed. Perhaps we can lure them over.’

Goras straightened up, examined the barrels, before picking one near the edge of the pier and placing his hands on it. He caught my eye. ‘Ready?’

I glanced around at the others. Dorne drew his blade, as did the other soldiers. Daethie ducked back further behind the barrels, looking to stay out of the way. I nodded at Goras. Sinking low in his heels, he heaved at the barrel, unbalancing it until it was toppling over with a crash. It clanked as it rolled along the planks before tipping off the side of the pier and hitting the water. The two card players were on their feet before it did, game forgotten, headed our way in a half run.

I ducked low as they approached, their feet pounding the pier, and as soon as they passed the beginning of the barrel stack Dorne and a few of the other soldiers were on them. One of the guards managed to let out a shout of shock before he was silenced, and I held frozen, gritting my teeth, eyes fixed on the quay as I scanned for signs the cry had been heard. There was no movement. The soldiers dealt with the bodies, dragging them out of sight. The splash of their bodies hitting the water for a moment made me feel a little ill, but I quickly shook off the feeling, taking a breath as I realised I’d been holding it. I switched my attention to the site of the ambush, shaking my head at the smears of blood. Sloppy. But it couldn’t be helped. We just had to hope no one noticed it.

‘We can hide there,’ Dorne whispered, jabbing a finger in the direction of a shadowy space between buildings. ‘One at a time.’ He straightened, head quickly turning left to right to check his surroundings, then darted down the pier. My heart was in my mouth as I watched. He was so exposed, so visible as a shadowy rush of movement, boards creaking beneath his footfalls. If he was seen, could the rest of us keep from being found? I wasn’t interested in sacrificing my life to set this plan in motion. If I had to run and abandon the whole thing, I bloody would.

But the soldier reached the patch of shadow and he was quickly followed by another of our men. Then Dorne was gesturing to me, and it was my turn to scamper across all that open space. I ducked my head low as I ran, trying to make myself as small as I could, as though that would help. I felt as though eyes were crawling all over me, that at any moment an alarm would scream out and I would be shot down by a volley of arrows.

I skidded to a stop when I reached the building, quickly submerging myself in shadow alongside the others as I turned to watch Daethie make the run. She did with so little visible anxiety, almost seeming to float along the pier before she disappeared almost entirely. I squinted, managing to pick out only a thicker patch of shadow wisping through the night before she pulled up beside me, shedding the illusion.

‘You could have done that for me,’ I whispered to her as Goras stepped out for his turn.

‘I did,’ she whispered back.

‘What?’ I hissed, my heart pounding too hard to process her words properly.

‘I cloaked you,’ Daethie replied, her voice calm, even faintly amused. ‘It’s not my fault you didn’t notice. That’s kind of the point.’

Before I could retort, Goras reached us, panting quietly as he pressed into the shadowy crevice beside me. His eyes darted over the docks, scanning for any sign we’d been noticed.

‘Last one,’ Dorne murmured.

The soldier hesitated, his hand gripping the edge of the post he’d been crouching behind. I bit the inside of my cheek, willing him to move. Every second he hesitated felt like an hour. Finally, he bolted. His boots struck the boards too loudly, a frantic rhythm that echoed over the water. My stomach clenched as I spotted something I’d been dreading: a beam of light arcing over the docks. There were guards approaching.

‘No,’ I breathed. My fingers twitched with the instinct to summon my power, but Daethie caught my arm, her grip firm. ‘Wait,’ she whispered, her tone sharp enough to cut through my panic.

The soldier made it to us, barrelling into the shadow, his breath coming in shallow gasps. We huddled closer together, holding still as we listened for the pound of boots, the cry of voices demanding we give ourselves up. But when I finally caught the sound of voices, they sounded at ease, though they were drawing closer.

‘—too bloody cold for this tonight.’

‘Yer jokin’, right? Time we send you home to toughen you up a bit. Yer mother’d be cryin’ with shame.’

‘Shut up, you old pickaxe. Just because I’ve spent half my life freezing my balls off doesn’t mean I need to like it.’

We drew further into the shadows, back into the alley. I pressed myself against the wall. There was nowhere else to go. They were about to walk past us. If they turned their heads to peer into the dark, we were done.

The sound of footsteps stopped. ‘Where’d Emmet and Herrin go?’

Shit. The two guards currently floating in the harbor. I thought of the smears of blood on the pier. If they went looking, it wouldn’t take long to realise there were people on this dock who shouldn’t be. The footsteps began up again, and slowly two figures meandered past the mouth of the alley.

‘They promised me a game,’ one of them continued. ‘If they’ve fucked off before shift change again, I will damn well report them this time.’

They passed by, their voices drawing away again. We waited in tense anticipation for a stretch. My shoulders knotted with the strain and my feet ached from crouching low. I didn’t realise I was biting my lip until I tasted blood in my mouth. I hated this, the waiting. The feeling of being at the mercy of mere notice. And magic was already tingling beneath my skin, rising with the expectation to use it.

A light flashed on the water. The signal! I sprung out of my crouch, but Dorne grabbed at my sleeve, drawing me back down.

‘That isn’t ours,’ he hissed, gaze glued to the rapidly flashing light, brows drawn together. And I realised what he meant as distant shouts broke out along the docks. Our signal was three quick flashes, then three minutes of darkness, before the pattern repeated in case we hadn’t seen it the first time. This blinking light was too sharp, too bright. Drawing too much attention. Designed to alert the shore patrols to trouble on the water.

One of our boats had been seen.

I swore as the noise of activity on the quay rose. A figure darted past the mouth of the alley, then another. A bell began to clang. Dorne was having a whispered conversation with one of the other men, their words a fast, tense hiss. What were they doing? We had to act! We couldn’t just crouch here, waiting to be caught!

‘What now?’ I whispered at Dorne when he turned to me.

‘We retreat. Find a way off this dock.’

‘And abandon the whole plan?’

‘It’s too late to do anything else now.’

Too late? I couldn’t accept that. Our boats had been out in the harbor for ages. Surely they’d spread enough oil and tarred enough hulls that we could still set the fleet alight.

‘We should try to ignite the oil. If we retreat, we’ll likely be caught, and this will all have been for nothing.’

‘We don’t know that they’ve even managed to spread enough flammables. If we attempt to light it, we might only succeed in giving away our position.’

But the anticipation was already thudding in my head. I could feel that insistent demand pounding in my chest.

Strike, strike, strike.

And now I’d risen from my crouch and my feet were moving in time with it. I could feel it rising, feel it burning through me, clawing against my skin, angry to be caged. Demanding release. Dorne tried to grab at me before I could reach the mouth of the alley, but he jerked back when magic surged into him at the contact, releasing a small yelp. There was movement in my peripherals as I crossed the quay. Men’s voices clamouring at me to halt. But I didn’t even turn my head. Out there, on that black slick of an ocean, oil was wafting around, catching starlight. Waiting for a spark.

Static began to build around me. I would give it more than a spark.

I raised my hands. Lightning leapt around me, a web of sizzling, crackling light, and I could feel the air around me responding, feel all that latent energy above coalescing, drawn to the vortex of magic spinning thick and fast around me. Thunder rumbled. The first bolt of lightning struck out on the water. Immediately, fire roared to life where it had touched, spilling across the water, bathing the surrounding ships in the flickering glow of flames. The next strike was closer to shore. The flames licked up the hull of a ship close to the pier, before quickly jumping across to the dock.

A sharp pain tore through my shoulder. I gasped, hand immediately going to the graze crossbow bolt had torn as it glanced across my skin. I looked around, finally paying attention to where I was and what was happening around me. Goras and Dorne and the others were around me, trying to fight off a thickening barrage of enemy soldiers who were stupid enough to be trying to attack me. The pain in my shoulder twined with the sweet, gnawing pain of the magic, feeding it, winding tighter and tighter inside me, sparking a rush of anger because they’d struck me . The static fizzed at my hair, running along my skin, wrapping around me, crawling inside me and humming until my very bones thrummed with energy. Sparks crackled and popped up and down my arms. Everything was bright, blurry, like I was shimmering with an apocalyptic rage. I wanted them dead . I wanted them all dead. Another bolt struck the pier ahead of me, and this time the blast was so loud that it pressed against my eardrums like water rushing in, making them ache, the flare of light further blinding me. I blinked the glare away as the charge crackled through the ground beneath the dozen fallen soldiers, leaping up into their bodies as they screamed and spasmed. Others were staggering away from the blast site with their hands clasped to bloody ears, unseeing as they tried to stumble away from the danger.

The storm bent to my will, the wind howling in my ears, the scent of burning wood and scorched flesh thick in the air. But it wasn’t enough . The power inside me surged, wild and insatiable, demanding more.

Lightning coiled at my fingertips. Magic crackled in my bones. Let it all burn.

A shadow moved through the rain. Heavy boots, sword raised.

Goras.

Not retreating. Not pleading. Advancing.

I tilted my head, barely recognising him through the haze of power. My magic pulsed, demanding violence, but he didn’t waver. He knew what I was now.

And he’d come to stop me.

He lunged. Faster than I expected for someone his size. His blade sang through the air, cutting straight for me.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

Lightning erupted from my hands.

It caught him mid-stride, slamming into him and sending him sprawling. The air stank of ozone and charred leather. He groaned, struggling to rise, but I was already moving, stalking toward him, magic licking at my skin like living flame.

He lifted his head, eyes hazy with pain but still fierce. Still defiant .

‘You’re a damn fool,’ he gritted out. ‘You’ll kill us all!’

I bared my teeth. ‘And you’re dead .’

I raised my hands, the storm answering, thunder cracking overhead—

And then Daethie was there.

She stepped between us, arms outstretched, small and pale and in my way . The wind tore at her hair as she looked up at me. ‘Rhiandra,’ she cried. ‘Stop! This isn’t who you were meant to be!’

The words arrested me. An echo of Baba Yaga's voice simmered in my memory. Do not say I did not warn you.

My hands trembled. The lightning sputtered.

Daethie didn’t move. Rain streaked down her face, but her eyes were clear, steady. Begging me to see what I was becoming.

Goras coughed, struggling to push himself up as the magic inside me twisted and soured. The storm wavered, wind faltering, the firelight flickering in the rain. My breath was ragged, my pulse thundering.

I staggered back. No. No, no, no.

I spun before the truth could settle. Before I could see it reflected in their eyes. Before I could face the thing clawing at my insides, screaming its rage. I was doing this for all of us! I was going to win, and then everything would be clear, would make sense. Winning would make it all worth it. It had to.

Because if I stopped, if I let myself feel the weight of everything I’d done, it would crush me. If I let go of the fight, then I would have to reckon with the truth—that I had been the villain in someone else’s story, that I had made choices I couldn’t take back. And I couldn’t live with that.

So I had to keep going. I had to win to save myself. I had to defeat Draven because if I could, if I could break him, then maybe I could break whatever hold he had on me. Maybe I could carve him out of me like a sickness, and I would finally be free.

Something caught my attention on the water. Some of the ships out in the harbour were moving. The flames were guttering in sections, failing to catch at the sturdy hulls of the vessels pushing through. There were places where there was no flame at all, where the water was still black. The ships would escape . They’d slip through the mouth of the harbour and be safe. The wind was rising, tearing at me, and the rumbling, writhing storm above demanded satiation. Those ships were mine. They weren’t going to escape me.

‘You can’t reach them,’ Daethie called. She had to call it. Because I was already moving.

My gaze tracked a ship as it soared past the island in the harbor, the lighthouse perched there momentarily lighting it up, and my feet were already moving, as though I was drawn towards it, magic singing that same anthem through my body.

Strike strike strike.

Because there was a bridge to that lighthouse. And I maybe I couldn’t reach the rest of the ships from here. But I bet I could reach them from there.