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brITT

Blessed mermaids.

The pain eased.

A dull roar throbbed through her ears, similar to swimming too far underwater, or a fever dream, or the bang of drums after too much mead.

Norr, that bastid. The sea god didn’t grant her the mercy of passing out. Not entirely. Not yet. He must truly loathe her, forcing her to dance along consciousness. Awake enough for spasms and burning. The time in between each lashing had stretched into eternities.

Did the whip handler prolong it on purpose?

Had time warped?

All occurred in a tunnel. Somehow, she braced her body for another thrashing. If she released the board grinding into her palms, she’d lose her tenuous grip on life. What was it now? Twenty?

Eighty?

A roar broke the blur of noise. Thuds. Shrieks of pain. Rampant horror, and a strange, humming quiet. Britt attempted to open her eyes, but she lacked the ability to control her body.

Where was Denerfen?

Tesserdress?

Nothing happened. Had Oliver returned? A rough whisper interrupted her wild thoughts. “Britt?”

No noise came from her lips, though her mind formed the question.

Henrik?

“Hang in there,” he crooned. “I’m cutting you down. Can you stand?”

She moaned.

“I’ll stand for you.”

A sharp, cool metal grazed her wrist, then the pressure of the right rope released. She dropped, but an arm caught her. Pain lanced through her, bringing a wash of darkness with it. Britt sobbed. An unnatural, juddering moan unleashed from deep inside.

“Gods.” Henrik spat. “No matter where I touch you, this is going to hurt. I’m sorry, Britt. I’m sorry. One more.”

She tried fruitlessly to form his name. A distant tunnel floated forward. The chasm of black reverberated his voice. The second rope disappeared.

She crumbled.

He caught her.

“Gods, Britt.”

An excruciating slice of pain tripled through her back, starting where his arm wrapped low on her waist.

“Where are they? The draguls.”

“Dress,” she gasped, barely audible. “Dress. Please.”

“I’ll get them.”

Tears jarred out of her eyes, though she couldn’t see. Black rimmed from the edges, encroaching forward. The final tie to life broke with a crack.

Finally.

Norr blessed her with the black.

Into the abyss, she fell.

* * *

Jostling.

Creaking.

Muffled voices.

Bright sunshine.

Searing, hot, scorching.

Rabid pain.

Agony’s sister, Misery.

Britt’s chest pressed against someone. A shoulder? Arms wrapped her thighs, holding tight. The open air was a horrid kiss against her flayed back. Each movement sent spasms over her ribs.

Gulls cawed.

Ocean roared.

Firm wood sounded beneath boots.

Sand.

Salty spray.

Another familiar, scratchy voice.

“Looks like she’s early.”