Page 103 of King of Storms and Feathers

My pulse raced as my lungs filled with stale air, but I forced myself to breathe slowly and pictured my parents standing on the crumbling, sun-lit dais, surrounded by trailing vines and towering tree trunks.

“Thank you,” I whispered even though I doubted Orion could hear me.

He laid me on the ground, and I felt him fumble over my body, fastening buttons on the bag I was now cocooned in, just as he’d warned.

I was silent as he hoisted me gently over his shoulder. The creak of the door opening and shutting covered my squeak as he wrapped a heavy arm around my butt and lumbered into motion.

With my muscles loose, I concentrated on sounds. Orion and the other sailors greeting each other, boots stomping on stones, then wood. Then even more blood pooled in my head as the angle changed, and we went downward into what was likely the hold of the ship.

As he placed me on the ground, the voice of another sailor boomed in the dark, and I did my best to stay calm. “What have you got there, Orion?”

“Bag of silk carpets from Coridon for the Sun Realm. They’re the king’s. So you’d best not get your grubby hands on them, Sindar, or the captain will twist your nuts off.”

“Right. Reckon I need my balls, don’t I?” The newcomer’s laugh rumbled through the hold, sending chills over my skin. “Mighty tempted to take a peek at them, but it’s probably not worth it. You sailing tonight?”

“Not on this run. Tomorrow,” answered Orion.

A door thudded closed, and their voices dissolved in the darkness, leaving me alone with my raging fears. The cargo hold must have been packed earlier because after Orion left, only three other fae entered and left quickly before the ship set sail in a din of shouts and clanging sounds.

The hull creaked and rolled over the sea. And for far too long, I fought not only waves of terror, but swelling nausea that threatened to make me cast up my measly breakfast. Vomiting in the blanket might be worse than actually being discovered cowering inside it.

Eventually, I dozed off and dreamed of climbing slimy-rocked ruins and sword fighting in the forest until footsteps entered the hold and woke me. They stopped right next to my bag, and I recognized Sindar’s deep mutters as he lifted me into the air, then thudded me down in a new position on the floor. I gave thanks to Orion for wrapping me in such a thick blanket.

“Bastard Fire King thinks he can keep all the nice things from Coridon, does he? Well fuck him and his orange-eyed sisters. Sindar here deserves some treats, too. Pretty rugs earn a nice sum of feathers at the markets. We’ll see if they don’t.”

With a grunt, he tossed me out of the bag, and I rolled across the floor, still wrapped in the blanket, until I hit a solid lump, likely a bag of flour or grain. Glad that my hands were down by my sides, close to the knife strapped to my thigh, I focused, channeling fear into anger, weakness into battle readiness.

A chant whispered through my lips as I waited, blind in the dark and alert to the sound of the male’s every breath and oafish move.

By branch and root, soil and stone, lend strength to muscle, heart, and bone. Crush all to live. Conquer and prevail. Mydor blood will never fail.

I had no idea how I knew this particular war song, but it drove all of my fear away. Violence hummed through my veins as every muscle strained to burst free from the rug and attack. Kill to survive. Because there was no way it would be me who died in this shithole of a hold tonight. It would be him. Sindar.

Come on asshole, I thought. Hurry up. Let’s get it done.

Silence resonated, drowned out by the hard thud of my heart. Then, finally, something prodded my side.

“Heavy fucking rugs. Best Sindar takes a look at them.”

Good, Sindar. Have a fucking look. I was ready.

And then, he unraveled me.

As a pair of blood-shot troll eyes widened in shock, I made myself wait, freezing my muscles solid for three seconds.

Friend or foe? Friend or foe? Come on, hurry up and reveal yourself, you bearded prick.

A lecherous, dark chuckle vibrated his thick, hairy lips, then he licked them with a wet, black tongue. “Looks like I found myself a little diversion. Last hour of a trip’s always fucking boring. But not tonight, it seems.”

A meaty hand reached for my cheek.

I ripped my knife out and plunged it into his leathery neck, grabbing the collar of his shirt and using his weight as he fell backward to flip myself out of the blanket. Then, before his dark blood could stain the wooden floor, I rolled him up and dragged him into the corner.

I wiped my blade on the bag Orion had hidden me in, then threw it over the troll, stood, and stretched my spine. “Sorry, Sindar,” I said, sheathing the knife in my thigh belt. “You picked the wrong girl to abuse tonight.”

Warm light from the hanging lanterns revealed hundreds of bags and barrels of various sizes stuffed into the large hold. A wide aisle of free space ran down the center.

Behind the dead troll’s body, I moved aside bags of grain, searching for the trapdoor exit. I found it in the corner wall of the hull, along with a flat length of wood. I figured the plank attached to the outside of the ship and was used to access the dock that we’d soon arrive at.

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