He turns at the snide remark and chucks the rock at me. I dodge it as best I can in the darkness, but it still skims the side of my arm.
“Stings, that does, you bastard,” I say.
“To hell with you and your sorcery.”
“Sorcery?”
“You did something to me. And to Riden. You’ve bewitched him somehow. And you nearly killed him. So whether you call it sorcery or not, you can go hang by a rope from the tallest tree.”
I laugh. It’s not a mockery, but a sincere response to his foolishness. “You’re furious with me? You do remember you kidnapped me? You forced me to witness the most disgusting tortures I’ve ever seen. You tried to force yourself on me, and your men tried to kill me. All I did was steal a map.”
Despite his foul attitude, I dig into my pocket and throw something at him. I make sure it hits him in the back of the head before continuing on.
I hear his hands scramble furiously in the darkness to retrieve what I threw. Then the sound of his chewing is so loud, I hear it for the next twenty feet.
Fresh bread from the kitchens. I don’t know what prompted me to bring it for him, but I did.
Now, for the reason I’m really here.
Vordan’s cell is tucked into a nasty corner where the tide comes in. Water reaches his ankles. He must be freezing.
Good.
I hate him. I hate that I’m here.
“Alosa,” he says when he notices me. Just the tone makes me cringe. The satisfied, self-assured way he manages to say it even when locked behind bars.
“Tell me more,” I whisper, even though I know we’re alone.
“What? I didn’t catch that?”
“Tell. Me. More.”
“About what?” he asks, toying with me.
I snap. My voice rushes out like a thunderclap. I burry him under a mountain of snow, let him feel a cold so piercing he’ll forget there was ever anything else to feel. I push him from the tallest cliff, let him fall and fall, hurtling down at an impossible speed, knowing he’s about to die and there’s no way to stop it. I thrust him back into his cell, make the walls rattle as the volcano nearby explodes and blistering heat drowns him. On and on, I throw terror after terror at him.
He’s shaking by the time I stop, his breathing shallow.
I tamp down my rage enough to say, “I can still hurt you, Vordan. Tell me what you know or we can keep at this. I’m not feeling particularly patient today, so cut the snark.”
It takes him a full minute to find his voice. “You”—deep breath—“you are a monster.”
“And you’ve made the monster angry. Start talking.”
“I don’t—I don’t know anything else.”
I open my mouth.
“I swear it!” he shouts.
I cock my head to the side.
“My man didn’t take anything out of the king’s study. He could only tell me what he saw. Some sort of device and a note in Kalligan’s own writing, depicting what it does. You already know I’m not lying about it. I’ve told the truth while under your abilities.”
I’m more frustrated than before. I can’t trust my enemy over my own father.
But after what Father did, threatening to take out my eye because my voice would still work without it— He’s only under pressure from the upcoming voyage. He wouldn’t really do it.
But have you ever known him to make an idle threat?
How can I question him? After everything he’s done for me?
You mean the beatings and imprisonment?
No! He raised me. He trained me. He made me unstoppable.
He made you his loyal pet.
I growl.
“You!” I snap at Vordan. “You put these thoughts in my head.”
He raises himself up to his full, unimpressive height, one of his legs bent awkwardly behind him. “I could not create doubt where there wasn’t already a seed planted.”
That’s it.
Enough of this.
There’s only one way to get rid of the uncertainty once and for all.
Chapter 6
“YOU WANT ME TO help you break in to your father’s study?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then,” Riden says.
I wait, expecting more. When he doesn’t say anything, I ask, “That’s it? You don’t have any questions for me?” No patronizing words to throw in my face? No conditions or stipulations? No I-told-you-sos?
“I overheard your interrogation with Vordan, remember? If it were me, I’d do the same thing.”
I realize then that he’s not going to lord this over my head. He’s not smirking at me the way Vordan did. Not pleased with himself or pleased by my own pain.
He wants to help.
Riden is more confusing than ever.
But I don’t have time to think on it.
What we’re doing is dangerous. Treasonous. If my father catches us, we’re all dead. Which is why I’m bringing only three with me: Athella, because she can get me through any door; Sorinda, because she can cut down anyone in our path; and Riden, because—
I just want him with me.
The four of us leave the ship and enter the keep. We slide along cave wall after cave wall, peering around every bend and turn to make certain it’s clear before proceeding. It’s getting late, and we can only hope that most pirates have already gone to bed.
When we reach the door, I put Sorinda and Riden on either end of the tunnel as lookouts. Athella gets on her knees to inspect the lock while I stand just behind her. My fingers start to fidget, so I fold my arms.
Athella lets out a low whistle.
“Shh,” I say, casting a nervous glance down toward my father’s rooms.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “It’s just that the king really doesn’t want anyone getting in here. He has one of those fancy new Wenoa locks with a cylindrical keyhole. Most lockpicks haven’t figured out how to manufacture the tools necessary to get through these.”
“So you can’t do it?”
A mischievous grin takes over her face. “Didn’t say that, Captain. I’m no average lockpick. It’ll just take me a while.”
“I don’t how much time you’ll have.”
“Then I’d better get started.”
She unrolls her cloth of tools and grabs a hollow, cylindrical piece of metal and inserts it into the hole. Then she grabs a pick and starts poking it around the edges. I thank the stars that I have Athella in my crew. My lockpicking skills are nowhere near as advanced as hers.
“Powerful spring,” she mumbles to herself and adjusts her fingers slightly.
I realize I’m holding my breath while she works, so I force myself to let the air out of my lungs. “If you get this open, you can have half of my share of our next plunder.”
She laughs. “If? Captain, I’m heartbroken.”
“Someone’s coming!” Sorinda whispers through the flickering torchlight.
Athella shoves the tools and kit into her corset before standing. “What do we do?”
I haven’t had time to soak up more song. I’m practically empty after unleashing myself on Vordan, so we need to be clever in order to get out of this one. And if it’s my father approaching, singing will do us no good. As Vordan said, my abilities have never worked on him.