Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
And then she throws herself over the railing in a shockingly agile movement. There’s a splash down below, and only silence follows. I step to the railing and look down to see her pale form circling the ship and then diving deep. The happiness in her movements almost makes me smile.
Then she dives deeper, and I can’t see her at all any longer. I grip the railing and search the dark water, but it’s just that . . . dark water. No seal. No Maeve. She said there was nothing to fear in these waters, that the Cŵn Annwn drive out—or, more accurately, murder—anything that takes up residence. She’s fine. She’s not being torn apart just out of sight.
But she . . . doesn’t surface.
Seconds tick into minutes and then longer. I can hear the crew shuffling about behind me, but I can’t seem to move. There’s no sign of her. No matter how many times I search the gently rolling waves, that truth doesn’t change.
Even when the sun crests the horizon, bathing the world in light and turning the water into something only slightly less opaque. Still no Maeve.
She’s . . . gone.
I stare at the water, wondering how I got this all so wrong. I’m ruthless to a fault. It’s the only way I know how to be. How did I not use our bargain to my advantage? I should have insisted we go after my family heirlooms first, and then I should have been the one to leave her behind with her needs unsatisfied. I must be a fool, because I honestly didn’t expect her to abandon me the moment she reclaimed her stolen skin.
I also didn’t expect it to hurt so much.
I finally drag myself away from the railing and turn to find several of the crew members watching me covertly. It’s tempting to snap at them to mind their own damn business, but showing even that much reaction is broadcasting my weakness in an invitation to be exploited. So I stare them down until they find somewhere else to be.
All except Alix, the bird person. To hear Evelyn tell of it, there was one of their people aboard the Crimson Hag as a medic, a delightfully delicate person whom Evelyn was naturally taken by. Alix is hardly that. Their beak is curved like that of a predator. They may move on two feet, but somehow they still give the impression of diving down to clutch up helpless prey. It would be impressive if I wasn’t feeling like I might vomit.
They stand next to me, watching me out of the corner of their large pale eyes. “This likely won’t go well for you.”
“Why don’t you try again?” I say mildly. “The last person who threatened me ended up with their head bouncing across the deck.”
“I’m not threatening you. I’m merely stating a fact. One of my people tells me you’re hunting the Crimson Hag. It might not be captained by Bowen any longer, but that doesn’t make it any less formidable an opponent. It’s suicide.”
I find myself looking back at the water and curse silently. Surely I’m not this much of a fool to be staring at the waves and waiting for Maeve to reappear? What am I? Some forlorn housewife whose spouse has gone out to sea, never to be seen again? Ridiculous.
It takes more effort than it should to turn to Alix and give them the majority of my attention. “I don’t have a death wish. Battling them at sea would get us all killed. I simply need to find them so I can retrieve something that belongs to me. As soon as we locate the ship, your task with me is done.” It would be more convenient to keep them on until I find a portal home, but I have no interest in being stabbed in my sleep. The threat of that is already too prominent. If Alix believes they’ll gain what they want—the captainship—the moment I accomplish my task, they’re less likely to cause problems.
“It’s a risk.”
“Life is a risk.” Despite my best efforts, I can’t help looking out into the water again. It’s fully morning now, which means it’s been hours since Maeve disappeared beneath the surface. “It’s your choice whether you bring the crew in line or I murder them all and find a new crew that’s more willing to work with me.”
They huff out a strange cawing laugh. “Heard and understood . . . Captain. The Crimson Hag doesn’t sail south all that often, so our best bet is to head north to Drash. There should be better information there.”
I would almost rather sail directly to the damn capital and wait them out there, but that’s a fool’s game. In the way of established dictators everywhere, the Council that rules Threshold is complacent in the extreme. They rule with an iron fist, but they’ve done it for so long without being challenged that they don’t think they can be challenged.