Page 21

W ith the storm’s passing, the morning air is crisp and light. Small pebbles of dew cover the ship’s railing. I slide my hand over the edge, feeling a jolt from the moisture’s coolness that dampens my skin.

Before the sun rose, Grayson ordered his crew to set the final course for Emerald Cove.

Glimmers of the coastline blink in the distance as the Caelestia breaks through the rolling waves.

The wind fills her sails to the brim. It won’t be long now before we make it to the harbor—where my final chance of escape awaits.

If only Amara and Wells had heeded my order .

. . So many hurdles have forced a recourse in our pursuit of Thaeto’s treasure, but there might still be an opportunity for me to get a letter to them.

To find some way out of Grayson’s hold and escape with the Serpent’s Key.

It is a tricky thing. One that will require the upmost care as Grayson is on high alert, and the last thing I want is for him to unleash his wrath on the people I love.

Fatigue tugs at my eyelids as the subtle lull of the Caelestia moving through the swells, comforts my weary mind.

I’ve been running through every scenario possible of how I might get word to Amara and Wells.

And sleep evaded me again last night as I was restless from the events that transpired at dinner .

. . If you could even call it that. It felt more like a torture chamber.

Grayson is no straw-minded male and his astuteness is proving to be a difficult adversary.

The only way Grayson could have known about me lying about the Serpent’s Key was if Tommy saw me pressing the notch back into place and then somehow communicated this to his captain before he departed from the dining quarters.

Not that I blame Tommy for his dedication to his captain. The boy is young and that was a perfect opportunity to bring useful intel to Grayson—one of the few ways someone can move up in rank. When you prove your usefulness time and again, a bond forms.

It was exactly what Raven, Amara, and Wells had all done with me.

A quiet soreness radiates from my chest, despite that I’ve fully recovered from my injuries—thanks to Doc’s potion.

The tenderness expands, sinking deep into my heart.

I rub my open palm over the center, hoping it will fade.

But there is nothing that can take away the sting of losing someone you love.

Raven’s death will remain with me—a blight on my already jaded soul.

The only consolation is that she is dancing across the stars now, while I remain here with the pain that breaks another piece of my heart away. Leaving me raw and exposed to anyone who might look at me long enough to notice.

“It shouldn’t be long now.”

I turn to find Tommy coming up to my side.

The breeze blows the fine strands of his hair across his forehead as he leans his elbows on the railing.

Moisture gathers around his billowing sleeves where his elbows meet the wood.

Gazing at the open water with a gentle smile swooping his lips upward, he looks so young. Too young.

I’m once again reminded of Raven and the hurt stabs at my heart. The sharpness so pointed, it makes my entire body reel in pain.

I clear my throat and try to bury the sorrow away to feel another time. “Is Emerald Cove where you call home?”

“Eh! Tommy-boy. Come help me peel these potatoes.” We both turn to find a large man with ruddy cheeks waving his knife in one hand and a potato in the other. The soiled apron he wears tells me he must be the cook.

Tommy bows his head and groans. “Awe, come on! I peeled about a thousand last night.”

The cook blows a raspberry, spittle flies from his lips. “A thousand, my arse! Come now, we need to get through the rest of them before they restock the ship.”

Tommy looks down at me and pouts. I guess good graces have to be won more than once for Grayson to deem someone good enough to not peel potatoes.

“I can help,” I offer.

Tommy’s cheeks bunch as he smiles widely. “Really?!” Then his face falls as concern narrows his brows. “I mean, you don’t have to. You’re not a prisoner. We can’t force you to do it. Are you sure you want to?”

I chuckle and pat him on the back. “I think your definition of a prisoner is vastly different from my own, Tommy. But I’d like to help. It’s either peel potatoes with you or sit around in my room staring at the walls.”

What I didn’t say is that I should be working on unlocking the puzzle to the Serpent’s Key, but Grayson’s threat last night has me feeling sour. The last thing I want to do right now is further his agenda—even if it costs me having to endure another one of his temper tantrums.

My crew is safe for the moment and I’ll study the puzzle more once we get to land. Just not right now. Not after what he said last night.

“Come on,” the cook huffs, gesturing for us to follow him.

The gentle rocking of the hull has my eyelids feeling heavy again. I blink the sleep away as I pull the knife down the length of the brown potato, shedding its skin and almost pricking my finger in the process.

The cook whistles in the far corner while he tends to some boiling pots of stew.

I have to admit, he’s one of the finer cooks I’ve encountered at sea, if last night’s meal was any indication of his work.

If I focus beyond the scent of starch, I can still smell the thyme and rosemary dressing he used to baste the chicken with for our meal.

My stomach grumbles and part of me wishes I would have eaten more instead of letting Grayson get under my skin.

My stomach grumbles again, knowing I likely won’t have another meal like that as long as I am Grayson’s captee. I ruined any chances of remaining in his good graces and won’t be surprised if he feeds me plain porridge for the rest of my stay with him.

I’ll have to endure it. At least I’ll be alive. Hopefully.

Tommy sits on a small stool beside me, his tall torso arched drastically forward. I can see why he hates being down here. His back must ache something fierce when he finishes his shifts. Not to mention, the kitchen is the last place a young man with a lot to give wants to be.

“You asked me earlier if Emerald Cove was my home,” he says.

“Mmhmm.” I nod as I start to peel another line of skin.

“It isn’t. Or I guess I should say it wasn’t. Not when Captain first found me.”

“Where did he find you?” I peek over at him, but his gaze is trained on the potato and knife in his hands.

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds, “In The Pit.”

My stomach coils into a tight knot. I turn my head toward him, soft clinks sounding around us from my hair cuffs bouncing off one another. There is a hint of sadness in his big brown eyes, but it’s quickly washed away with determination.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” he says and means it judging by the conviction in his tone. “I got out and that’s all that matters.”

The Pit is a treacherous place for even the most powerful of creatures to venture into.

At the far west end of Esoros, where the king’s reach is nearly forgotten, lies The Pit.

The slums of the city where children are abandoned—left to fight on their own—and anyone walking around without the skill of wielding a honed blade becomes a target.

Emerald Cove may be run by pirates, but even pirates adhere to The Code and would never dream of engaging in the vile acts that transpire within The Pit, for The Pit is where nightmares are forged and death lingers with its claws out. Waiting to see who might fall into its trap.

“Grayson went to The Pit? And he got you out?” I ask in disbelief. It is a rare thing for someone to venture into the belly of hell on earth and come out, not only alive but with another survivor in tow.

Tommy flicks a piece of potato skin off of his knife before a haze settles over his eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be my night to fight, but one of the other kids died earlier that day so they put me into the cage.”

“The cage?” My throat tightens and I’m barely able to get the words out. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I don’t move to wipe them away.

I thought the cage was a myth. Or maybe some part of me just didn’t want to believe there were beings who could be so cruel as to force children to fight one another to the death.

Rumor has it that the Seiffre mercenaries were all once children of The Pit.

Forced to be killers from a young age, their only instinct is to destroy for the sake of saving their own lives.

Once the children earn enough kills in the cages, the Seiffre recruit them to join their kin as high-level mercenaries.

Only the wealthiest merchants and nobility have the coin to hire their skillset. For when the Seiffre are paid to complete a kill, they never fail.

Tommy nods solemnly, the brightness that usually lights his face is gone. Winked out by some distant memory that only he can see.

A glimmer of the light catches his blade as he turns the knife over in his hand.

“That night, they gave us knives to fight with. It was the first time I’d used a knife.

The other fights I had were bare knuckled.

But knives . . . there’s a lot of blood when you fight with a knife.

” He peers down at his reflection in the metal blade and I wonder if he sees the monster they tried to turn him into, or if he sees the sweet kid who has shown me nothing but kindness since I stepped onto his captain’s ship.

Despite knowing it was likely Tommy’s cue to Grayson last night that notified him of the lie I was trying to spin, I can’t seem stay mad at him for long. It’s the soft part of my heart. The part that often finds me in heaps of trouble.

“That’s over now,” I say, reaching out and grasping the top of his wrist to give it a squeeze.

He blinks slowly before his gaze settles on me and that haze from earlier is replaced with the hint of the joy he seems to always carry around.