Page 126 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

“Well, he obviously figured it out!”

“He and Aeslinn were draining god blood from everyone in Faerie who still had any,” I said, thinking about the cages full of captives I’d seen in that awful camp.

Aeslinn’s people had been rounding them up from everywhere, even Earth, where some of the fey had fled for safety and where he’d set up portals to make hunting them easier. Not to mention scattering more portals throughout Faerie, as his god’s appetite was insatiable. And there was little else that could satisfy it.

“Maybe they found enough,” I added.

Pritkin didn’t look like he thought much of that idea, but Æsubrand cut him off before he could reply.

“What . . . did you say?” he asked, staring at me.

And crap, way to tell someone that his dad was a butcher. It was a tough conversation, and I wasn’t up to it. But I guessed my silence was answer enough because Æsubrand looked appalled.

“Mother said that Father was doing such,” he whispered, “but I didn’t believe her. I didn’t think that even he. . .”

He trailed off, his expression darkening and those pewter-colored eyes shading closer to black. He looked genuinely outraged, making me wonder who the real Æsubrand was: the arrogant, power-hungry son of a couple of dodgy-ass parents or the noble fighter? Or, like most of us, somewhere in between.

But right then, I didn’t have time to worry about it.

Only apparently, that wasn’t my call because he grabbed my arm, and he wasn’t gentle. “Are you lying to me, witch?”

“Why would I bother?” I said before Pritkin struck his hand away. It probably wasn’t a good sign that Æsubrand didn’t even seem to notice.

“To demoralize me, make me believe outrageous things—”

“We’re not in the race anymore,” I told him. “Nobody cares what you believe.”

But he wasn’t listening. “Were some of our people among them? Were my people?” he demanded, looking a little wild-eyed. And then the hand was back along with its twin, squeezing my biceps hard enough to have broken the bones underneath if not for my armor. Only I doubted he knew it.

Æsubrand was having a moment, and it wasn’t a good one.

“Ask her,” I said, pointing at Faerie with my chin because my arms were busy. Until Alphonse and Pritkin worked together to pry off Æsubrand’s grip.

“This is not the time,” Faerie said, which was true but not helpful, as our resident silver-haired prince had lost his damned mind. To the point of turning on her and grabbing her instead. And shaking her wildly, which was not a great idea since I didn’t know how well attached that head was.

Pritkin and Alphonse grabbed him and dragged him back, and Faerie looked on, unperturbed except for a slight frown creasing her forehead.

“Answer me!” Æsubrand screamed, struggling with his captors.

“I already have,” she reminded him. “I said that your father’s machinations did him no good, nor your people, either.”

“You did not say that he murdered them!”

“It did not seem important.”

Æsubrand stared at her for a long beat, and then he suddenly started laughing. It wasn’t any more reassuring than his rage had been, as it was high-pitched and a little crazed. To the point that Alphonse and Pritkin exchanged a glance while keeping him restrained.

“You shoulda let those things eat him,” Alphonse told me.

“Oh, no, she wouldn’t do that!” Æsubrand said, still laughing. “She’s the sweet-faced little human who wouldn’t hurt a fly—but would destroy my capitol and murder thousands of my people! She’s the wide-eyed innocent who ventures where angels fear to tread—yet somehow survives as she’s also the heir of Artemis, the most savage god of them all! She—”

He suddenly decided that he was through talking and made a leap, somehow slipping through both men’s grasp before I could blink, with his mailed hand reaching out toward me. Until Faerie intervened, only not in the way that any of us could have expected. Well, shit, I thought, as a slew of images hit me instead of Æsubrand’s fist.

Rask’s wrists were slick with blood. His skin was thick and resisted tearing, but working all night, rubbing it against the hard metal of the cuffs, had taken its toll. The blood was smearing everywhere now.

That was good.

He was almost free.

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