He ignored me. Like a fool, I looked around. As if anyone on this saintsforsaken ship would hear my appeal. Sturmhond stood by the wheel, watching us, his face impassive.
I snatched at the Darkling’s sleeve. “We had a deal. I haven’t done anything. You said—”
The Darkling looked at me with cool quartz eyes, and the words died on my lips.
A moment later, Ivan appeared with Mal in tow and steered him over to the rail. He stood before us, squinting in the sunlight, hands bound. It was the closest we’d been in weeks. Though he looked tired and pale, he appeared unharmed. I saw the question in his wary expression, but I had no answer.
“All right, tracker,” the Darkling said. “Track.”
Mal glanced from the Darkling to me and back again. “Track what? We’re in the middle of the ocean.”
“Alina once told me that you could make rabbits out of rocks. I questioned the crew of the Verrhader myself, and they claim that you’re just as capable at sea. They seemed to think you could make some lucky captain very rich with your expertise.”
Mal frowned. “You want me to hunt whales?”
“No,” said the Darkling. “I want you to hunt the sea whip.”
We stared at him in shock. I almost laughed.
“You’re looking for a dragon?” Mal said incredulously.
“The ice dragon,” said the Darkling. “Rusalye.”
Rusalye. In the stories, the sea whip was a cursed prince, forced to take the form of a sea serpent and guard the frigid waters of the Bone Road. That was Morozova’s second amplifier?
“It’s a fairy tale,” Mal said, voicing my own thoughts. “A children’s story. It doesn’t actually exist.”
“There have been sightings of the sea whip in these waters for years,” said the Darkling.
“Along with mermaids and white selkies. It’s a myth.”
The Darkling arched a brow. “Like the stag?”
Mal glanced at me. I gave an infinitesimal shake of my head. Whatever the Darkling was doing, we weren’t going to help.
Mal peered out at the waves. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“For her sake, I hope that’s not true.” The Darkling pulled a slender knife from the folds of his kefta. “Because every day we don’t find the sea whip, I’ll peel away a piece of her skin. Slowly. Then Ivan will heal her, and the next day, we’ll do it all over again.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“You won’t hurt her,” Mal said, but I could hear the fear in his voice.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” said the Darkling. “I want you to do as I ask.”
“It took me months to find the stag,” Mal said desperately. “I still don’t know how we did it.”
Sturmhond stepped forward. I’d been so focused on Mal and the Darkling, I’d nearly forgotten him. “I won’t have a girl tortured on my ship,” he said.
The Darkling turned his cold gaze on the privateer. “You work for me, Sturmhond. You’ll do your job or getting paid will be the least of your worries.”
An ugly ripple of disquiet passed over the ship. Sturmhond’s crew were sizing up the Grisha, and their expressions were not friendly. Genya had a hand pressed over her mouth, but she did not say a word.
“Give the tracker some time,” Sturmhond said quietly. “A week. At least a few days.”
The Darkling slid his fingers up my arm, pushing back my sleeve to reveal bare white flesh. “Shall I start with her arm?” he asked. He dropped the sleeve, then brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “Or with her face?” He nodded to Ivan. “Hold her.”
Ivan clasped the back of my head. The Darkling lifted the knife. I saw it glittering from the corner of my eye. I tried to cringe back, but Ivan held me in place. The blade met my cheek. I sucked in a frightened breath.
“Stop!” Mal shouted.
The Darkling waited.
“I … I can do it.”
“Mal, no,” I said with more courage than I felt.
Mal swallowed and said, “Tack southwest. Back the way we came.”
I stayed very still. Had he seen something? Or was he just trying to keep me from getting hurt?
The Darkling cocked his head to one side and studied him. “I think you know better than to play games with me, tracker.”
Mal gave a sharp nod. “I can do it. I can find it. Just … just give me time.”
The Darkling sheathed his knife. I exhaled slowly and tried to suppress a shiver.
“You have a week,” he said, turning away and disappearing into the hatch. “Bring her,” he called to Ivan.
“Mal—” I began as Ivan grasped my arm.