“While they are pirates, I do not think any of your crew are so idiotic as to steal from you. They all heard what happened to Prik.”
“Some treasures breed treason.”
True, thought Niya.
“But what of Kintra?” she asked.
“What of her?”
“Is even your quartermaster not to be trusted?”
Alōs glanced away. “Kintra is the exception.”
Such an answer shocked Niya, and it took her a moment to soak this in. Kintra is the exception. Why did that sting to hear?
Because you weren’t, a slithering voice said in her ear.
Niya frowned, shaking off the strange emotion clawing hot in her chest. “I did not realize you and she were . . .”
Alōs lifted an amused brow at that. “Were what?”
“Nothing, never mind. I will not tell your crew what we seek.”
“Give me your word,” he commanded.
Niya frowned but replied, “I give you my word as the dancer of the Mousai, loyal subject to the Thief King, to not tell any pirates of the Crying Queen about your hunt for the Prism Stone.” She held out her hand. “So do we now have a deal?”
Alōs pressed his lips together, thinking. “Very well,” he agreed, though he didn’t seem pleased about it. “You will give me all your aid in getting back the Prism Stone, and in trade, I will set your binding bet free upon its safe return to Esrom. If not, you shall serve another year aboard the Crying Queen.”
Niya’s pulse quickened in silent victory as they each called up their magic then, winding it around their hands. Alōs unsheathed his dagger and pricked each of their palms. Niya’s stomach twisted with anticipation. She had found a way out. She was that much closer to being free. Free of this man. Free of paying for her past sins. Free to finally move on with her life.
Niya gripped Alōs’s palm, his touch cold against her heat, their blood mixing as their powers twisted around one another, a fight for dominance.
“Vexturi,” they said in unison, and Niya watched their magic spin faster and faster before snapping into their skin.
She pulled her hand free, studying the black mark on her wrist, which was changing along with her new binding bet. Half of it began to fade, lines of her future not yet permanent.
Niya might have made a bigger gamble, but for the first time since meeting Alōs all those years ago, she felt like she had an upper hand. She could not help the triumphant smile edging her lips.
“Let’s see how long that grin stays after we return to the ship,” said Alōs, opening the door to their closet. “You still must answer for disobeying me, fire dancer, and for spelling my crew. But do not worry. I’ll promise to make your punishment quick.” His gaze was sharp as he turned, leaving her standing in the dark space.
Niya’s feeling of triumph was short lived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The sound reverberated in Niya’s skull before the pain. The whip cracked across her skin, hot flames against her back. She was being torn in two. But she did not call out, did not give the pirates who watched, their shouts of glee filling the air, the satisfaction of hearing her agony. Especially the man who held the whip.
Alōs stood behind her, cold determination in his eyes to fulfill the sentence his crew had demanded. Have Red spill red with lashes, they had called. As Alōs pulled back the leather rope, readying to strike again, Niya turned forward. She squeezed her eyes shut as she dug her fingers into the straps where she was tied to the mainmast. Energy raced toward her, followed by cool air a grain fall before the sharp slice of retribution cut against her spine once more. Her jaw clamped so tight she feared her teeth would crack and shatter to the floor.
Her magic churned up fire in her gut. It screamed to be freed, to lash back. We can slice him down, it sang in her blood. Nothing will be left but ash. We will not even save his bones. By some miracle, she kept her power contained. Because even in her silent terror, in her desperation to burn each and every person who stood near, she knew she had brought this upon herself. She might be foolish, but she was not dumb. Despite originally believing she had a chance of making it back to the ship with none the wiser, she had sneaked off to Esrom knowing the possible repercussions.
Now here she knelt, before the bloodthirsty pirates.
Saffi had been the one to position her against the mast, her artillery boss’s features holding nothing but hurt and rage. Whatever trust the woman might have begun to extend to Niya, she had quickly severed it by spelling her.
Niya had made each of them look weak, helpless. And to a lot like this, that was worse than death.
Still, Niya would not have changed what she had done.
She looked up to her binding bet, which peeked from beneath the ropes around her wrists. Half of it now erased, the other half soon to disappear when she found the other piece of the Prism Stone. Her sentence to this ship would be gone. No more.
Crack.
A gasp left Niya in a whoosh as another blaze sliced across her back, clearing her mind of all thought. Uncontrolled tears streamed down her face, snot from her nose.
She began to shiver.
“Harder!” some of the crew goaded beside her.
“Where are ya powers now, Red?” another shouted.
She would be shown no mercy here.
Not only had Niya made them look like fools, but she had also disobeyed their captain. Any pirate who had acted thus would be punished, had been punished, even killed. A flash of Prik being decapitated beside her filled her mind. These were the rules on the Crying Queen. And she was part of the Crying Queen, whether she liked it or not.
Plus, the law was the same in the Thief Kingdom. She knew because she and her sisters were the enforcers for their king. Torture and punishment were acts synonymous with the Mousai. They might be creatures who spun awake beauty, but it was a mirage concealing a fatal touch. How many souls had she sent to the Fade for their transgressions? Niya shook the question from her mind, for it did not matter. This was the world they all lived in.
Her father had raised his daughters to be brave, ensured they learned not to crumble under pain or heartache, for life was ripe with both, he would say. Niya was determined to make him proud now as well as her sisters.
She could take this punishment as any on board this ship would, as her family would have too.
This was the price of the leverage she had sought.
Niya caught Bree and Green Pea standing silently to one side, and though they did not share in the jeering, their gazes held a mix of emotion—anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness.
A wave of guilt slithered into Niya’s chest a moment before another lash fell upon her like lightning. Cold and hot, bone breaking.
HURRRRT, her magic demanded, nearly choking her as it fought to be let loose. But Niya tightened her hold around it, sucking down the eruption of revenge wanting to be freed from every pore on her body. She panted past the consuming pain dizzying her mind and running red rivulets down her skin.
She would prove to this ship of scoundrels that while she might be many things, she was no coward. And if nothing else, that would keep a seed of respect in their detestable hearts.
Hearts she had been on the cusp of connecting with.
Crack.
Niya bowed forward, her cheek slapping against the wooden mast.
She could smell her blood and sweat soaking her shirt, iron and salt invading her nostrils.
Stay in control! she silently screamed at her gifts.
For it wasn’t merely her pride that kept Niya from striking out. It was remembering the look on Alōs’s face when he’d seen her in his parents’ bedchamber. He’d been enraged, to be sure, but he’d also revealed another emotion that Niya clung to: terror. Niya had found more than one weakness in the nefarious pirate’s cold, hard veneer this night: his family, Ariōn. She did not revel in the loss of his parents, of course. Niya was not that heartless. But beyond this Prism Stone, for her to know another precious secret of Alōs’s, just as he had known one of hers, brought a wicked grin to her lips.