“Do your people know their queen is as much of a liar as the rest of her family?” He spits on my hands, then looks at me as though he expects me to reel back. But this is far from the first time I’ve been spat on. I wipe it on my pants.
This isn’t the way it should be; his blood on my hands is not what I want, and without my magic, I can’t even look into his soul to ensure his execution is just. But for the sake of making Visidia believe in me and my protection until I can restore the kingdom and all of its magics, this is what I must do.
Perhaps Lord Garrison was right; maybe I am nothing more than a pawn in this game.
“May the gods judge each of you as you deserve.” Without lingering a moment longer, I stab my dagger into the man’s heart and twist the blade, pressing one hand against his shoulders to steady his body until the convulsing stops. As life drains from his lungs, I lean his corpse against the wall and peel the dagger away.
I move on to the next prisoner. Though I try to make every kill as quick as possible, a blade through the body is far from painless, and I can’t control a body’s desire to live. Some go quickly, while others are slow and painful. One man takes so long and suffers so greatly that I take to slitting his throat so that he might pass on swiftly.
The whimpers of the remaining prisoners turn to tears as they wait, which then turn to sobs and screams muffled by the fabric that gags them.
Their blood stains my hands in such a violent shade that, no matter how hard I may scrub, I know it’ll never come off. For each heart that my blade pierces, a piece of my already withering soul chips away. But I don’t stop until the last prisoner has fallen and my boots bathe in a pool of their mixed blood. And even then, I’m not done; leaving five stabbed bodies is too suspicious when my magic doesn’t rely on a blade to kill. If I had more fire and a bigger room, I’d burn the bodies. But my only option to conceal the wounds is by cutting through them, draining them, and collecting the valuable bones one by one.
For some, I take many bones. For others, I harvest only a few important ones each—one from the clavicle and spine. Just enough to make it appear as though I had good reason to stab into the chests of each of them.
It’s a process I’m used to, but one that’s different this time around, now that I know the truth about soul magic. Now that I know it never needed to be like this.
Nausea has me cold despite the seething fire, and it takes everything in me not to lose my stomach. It takes hours until I’m gathering the bloodied bones to be washed, keeping the bodies of the prisoners exposed for the guards to feed to the fish.
I’ve just finished when footsteps echo through the tunnel. Though Shanty’s gone and I’ve done everything I can to stage my lie, a surge of panic rushes through me and I jolt to my feet, expecting Casem or one of the other guards. But it’s Ferrick who runs into the prison, his face as red as his hair as he pants for breath.
My chest squeezes with relief at the sight of him, even when his nose scrunches and his breaths stop short at the sight of the blood I may as well have bathed in, and a small mountain of corpses behind me. He squeezes his eyes shut and immediately turns away. My cheeks flush hot.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Shame sinks into my bones as I wipe my bloodied hands on the dirt. It’s been a full season since we were last together, back before I gave him his first official job as my lead adviser. I hate that, in our first moment together again, he has to see me like this.
“We found him,” Ferrick pants, ignoring my words. His shoulders shudder with each heavy breath.
I drop the bones into my satchel and cross the floor to him so quickly that my brain can hardly keep up with my movements. “Where’s he now?”
“He’s being held on the ship. We’ve got him.”
I could kiss Ferrick for those words. I nearly throw my arms around him until he flinches back, and I remember the blood.
“I’ll have him brought here—”
“No.” I sheathe my blade, determination straightening my spine. “Take me to him.”
CHAPTER SIX
The docks are a ghost of what they were yesterday.
The skies have lightened during my hours in the prison, and dawn fights to break free from beneath a heavy clot of storm clouds. While the sea kept a peaceful rhythm hours ago, now the tides thrash violently against the docks, misting my face with sea salt. They’re the type of waves that are a threat to the average sailor, but a call of adventure for the rest of us. The kind of waves that were made to be conquered.
The fresh sea mist is a perfume I coat myself in as each wave beckons. I fill my lungs with it, as if to feed the pit of my soul. Though it was only yesterday that my hands last gripped a helm, desire thickens my throat. Sailing around the bay, failing to expand the perimeters of my curse to Bastian, is a far cry from the sailing I long for.
Staring ahead at the docked ships, my body aches for the days back on Keel Haul. For the mornings where I woke with the sun, and the nights I spent counting the stars with a mermaid, a pirate, and a stowaway at my side.
All my life I wanted nothing more than to one day rule Visidia. But now that it’s mine, all I can think about is the day when I’m finally able to pass on the responsibility and have my body returned to the sea where it belongs.
Ferrick climbs up the docks, waving me toward the small cargo ship he arrived on. Having kept the crew as tight as possible, only a few trusted soldiers wait for us, their faces somber and tired. They know nothing of the man I sent them after, or the revolting crimes he’s escaped punishment from for far too long. While all soldiers are swift to bow, several look purposely away from the blood that stains my skin and clothing, while others stare.
“You all did wonderfully.” I grab the rope ladder dangling from the ship and haul myself onto it with practiced ease. “Go clean up and return to your families. You’ve earned a break.”
Some hesitate, surprised I’m dismissing them so swiftly. But they obey their orders, and I wait with Ferrick in the silence until they’re too far down the shore to hear me ask, “Where did you find him?”
“Off the coast of Suntosu. I got a tip from someone who knew him back in Kerost. They said he’s been traveling, searching for someone.”
I clasp a hand on Ferrick’s shoulder and squeeze it, just once, and it’s a gesture that earns his attention. He turns, slow to look me over. Even though I’m covered in blood, he winds his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close. I don’t fight him, letting myself melt into his body, thankful for his safe return.
Back when I was forced to be his betrothed, I hadn’t always been the kindest to Ferrick. But after our journey last summer, I can’t imagine life without him. I hug him fiercely, letting him be the first to ease away.
“I didn’t mean for it to take so long.” He combs his fingers through loose red curls that are in desperate need of trimming. “How have things been, here? How are you?”
My skin cools, not wanting to consider the weight behind the question. “I’m glad you’re home, but let’s save the catching up for later. I need to see him.”
The skin between Ferrick’s brows wrinkles, but he nods all the same. “We’ve got him tied down below. I can come with you—”