Page 49 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Forty-Nine

T he cool, briny breeze was soothing after one of my episodes. It eased the tightness in my head, settled the gnaw of nausea, and the slow, steady rise and fall of the waves beneath me had a calming effect. I sat with my back against the mast, staring out into the dark night beyond the ship’s railing, elbows slung over my knees as I waited for the pain to pass. I thought I’d managed to keep anyone from seeing me struggle with it, but I’d been aboard the ship for a few days now, and I was beginning to track the watching eyes that quickly turned when I looked their way. Kestrel’s in particular. He wasn’t game enough to read me outright, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been able to sense the fractured, waning state of my magic with his own.

It didn’t help that I didn’t much care, though. Nothing seemed to matter much anymore.

When I heard the creak of boards behind me, the scuff of footsteps, I didn’t even turn around. Just kept staring out into the night, back towards the direction of Port Howl, imagining I could see flickers of light to mark out where the city was, even though we were too far away. What was Rhiandra doing now? Was she safe? Was she looking out a window somewhere thinking about me as I was about her?

When I could practically feel their presence behind me, I finally spoke. ‘Make sure it’s a killing blow. You won’t get a second chance.’

A few chuckles. ‘I think we both know you’re done for,’ came the reply. I recognised the gravelly voice of Khatar. The betrayal ran deep, then. I hadn’t even been told he’d come aboard. Smoothly, I rose to my feet.

The moment the first hand closed around my shoulder, I moved, twisting, driving my elbow back hard, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as someone staggered away with a curse.

Idiots. They should have struck first instead of thinking they could simply take hold of me.

A blade flashed in the dim light. I caught the wrist before it could reach me. Twisted. The knife clattered to the deck, and I drove my knee into the traitor’s gut, throwing him aside like a rag doll. Swept my gaze round the others. Several members of the Morwarian crew, though Kestrel hung at the back with his hands pressed to his mouth, indicating they weren’t acting in isolation. There was a moment of hesitation, uncertainty flickering across faces.

Good. Let them doubt. Let them fear.

‘Pathetic,’ I spat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. ‘This is your grand betrayal?’

The hesitation lasted only a second before they came at me all at once. Someone caught my arm, another drove a fist into my ribs. Pain burst through me, white-hot, but I shoved it aside, snarling as I threw my head back into a nose, feeling the wet snap of cartilage.

More hands. More weight. My body slammed into the mast, and the breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp. Someone grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. A blade pressed against it.

I stilled.

A ragged silence filled the deck, the only sound was my harsh breathing and the rush of the waves below. Blood dripped from my split lip onto the wood.

The man holding the knife hesitated.

‘Do it,’ I sneered, voice low and dark, ‘before I make you wish you had.’

He wavered. Just a flicker. Just enough.

I struck.

My head snapped forward, smashing into his face. He stumbled, the knife wavering. I tore my arm free, seized the blade, turned it back on him—

Agony.

Something heavy slammed into my back. A boot to my spine. A sharp, blinding pain in my ribs as I went down hard, face striking the deck. Hands pinned me, pressing my cheek against the rough wood.

The knife was wrenched from my grip.

A boot pressed down on my shoulder, keeping me there. The sharp prick of a blade at my back.

Breathless, aching, I let out a short, bitter laugh, tasting blood in my mouth. ‘You’ve been wanting to kill me for a long time, haven’t you, Khatar?’ I spat. ‘But you can’t tell your chiefs you killed me unarmed in the middle of the night, nine against one. So dishonourable. What lies will you spin instead?’

Khatar squatted down beside me, tilting his head to make eye contact, mouth stretched in a cold smile. ‘I’m not going to kill you. The king of Oceatold is going to want that privilege.’

A sharp blow to the back of my head. My vision burst in a flare of red. Then darkness.