Nod, though displeased, didn’t seem to think she’d broken any explicit rule. After all, she’d come back. If only Estelle hadn’t been hunting for Tobias, she might not have. Let’s get out of here, he’d said. Maybe she should’ve taken him up on it.
Fiona shoved off her blankets and stepped out of bed. She pulled off her nightclothes and underwear, slipping into a fresh pair. Instantly, her mind flashed to Tobias, and a blush warmed her cheeks for a moment before she crushed the thought.
She pulled on a shirt and her leggings and tied her hair into a ponytail before heading to the deck. No one would be up at this hour, and she relished the thought of spending some time alone in the sun. Maybe its cleansing rays would burn some of the disturbing images out of her head—Dagon’s rank tentacles, her hands covered in Rohan’s blood. Sunlight gleamed off the wood, and she shielded her eyes.
But the deck wasn’t empty. Near the quarterdeck, arms folded, Ives stood over another person whose head hung in a bucket. Ostap, probably—sick from too much rum the night before.
But something wasn’t right. Ostap wasn’t moving. Fiona stepped closer and recognized the strange tattoos covering his limp, motionless arms.
Ives’ eyes darted to hers as she approached. “Found him like this.”
As she drew near, she saw the bucket was full of soapy water. She swallowed hard, watching as Ives grabbed Ostap by the back of his shirt, flopping him onto the deck. Suds oozed from his shirt collar. Ostap’s face looked bloated, his jaw hanging open.
Fiona’s mouth went dry. “You just found him like that?”
Ives stared at her, his expression flat. “Does it disturb you to see see a drowned man?”
“Doesn’t it disturb you?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He shrugged. “I find it fascinating. It’s always interested me how long it takes for someone to drown.” He scratched his chin. “I guess it varies.”
Fiona stumbled back. “Did you kill him?”
Ives’ eyebrows shot up. “Ostap? No. I just woke up. I did drown my brother, though. It took three minutes and fifty-seven seconds. So close to four! That’s how I ended up in prison. But as you know, Nod forbade us from murdering each other, and I’ve been a good boy.”
She glanced at the body again. Ives must have taken off one of Ostap’s wristbands. He’d taken something from each of his victims. “You poisoned the sword.”
He rolled his blue eyes. “That again. I told you: I’ve been following the rules. If you want to know what I think, it’s one of the Guardians. Maybe Lir. Have you seen his collection of knives?”
Fiona wanted to rip his throat out. “But you’re a killer.”
Unperturbed, he crinkled his brow. “So are you. You stabbed Rohan to death, and right now you look like you’d like to disembowel me.”
Close. “We’re the only two recruits left. And I know I haven’t been killing people. And I know the Guardians don’t want us dead. They need to feed us to Dagon.”
Ives’ lips tightened into a thin line, and he stepped closer to Fiona, wrapping a hand around her neck. Fiona’s hands flew to his wrist, trying to pry it free.
His pale eyes narrowed. “You’d best not be telling lies about me to the Captain. He has forbidden us from killing each other, and I mean to make it out of here alive. You can call me whatever you want, but I’m a survivor.”
Fiona kneed him hard in the groin, and he let go of her neck, doubling over. She slammed her elbow into his kidney, hoping to inflict as much damage as possible.
“Fiona!” Lir’s voice cut through her red haze. He was rushing across the deck, followed by Marlowe. “What the hell are you doing?”
She stopped, her body trembling, and pointed at Ives. “I found him here. He was standing over Ostap’s body. He’s the killer.”
Ives straightened. “How can you say that? You saw her attack me, didn’t you? She was trying to get rid of me after I found her holding Ostap’s head in the water. I don’t know how she overpowered him. Must’ve been all the rum he had.”
Marlowe stepped forward. “The Captain was very clear on the rules. No recruits murdering each other.”
Fiona pointed at Ostap’s wrist. “Look. His wristband is missing. If you search Ives, I’m sure you’ll find it. And the toe he took from Berold. He’s weeding out the competition and keeping trophies.”
Lir crossed to Ives, seizing his shirt collar. He pushed the weedy little maggot up against the mast and began rifling through his pockets, pulling open his shirt.
“I don’t have anything on me,” Ives protested.
Lir let him drop to the deck with a thud. “Nothing on his clothes.”
Ives’ face was all innocence. “Aren’t you going to search the girl? She was, after all, the one assaulting me.”
Lir turned to her. “Lift up your shirt.”