Page 18 of Siren's Treasure

Raggon flinched. The parrot was likely echoing what their cruel captors had said when snapping on this monstrosity, but he’d had success at getting his own off. “It’s not as bad as all that!” he growled. A heavy iron chain stretched from Tobias’s collar to a sturdy metal deck ring bolted into the ship’s forecastle planking. These iron rings, normally used to secure cargo during storms, now served a crueler purpose. An expert glance told him that the chains holding him weren’t enchanted, at least.

“Dead man’s chains! Dead man’s chains!”

With growing impatience, Raggon waved the bird away. His eyes fell on the boarding axe abandoned on the deck below them—the very one his burly attacker had tried to separate his head with earlier. Raggon shifted to snatch it up and reappeared at his brother’s side. “Let’s get this thing off you!”

Tobias’ eyes widened, and he backed up. “Oh no, you don’t! Not with that!”

“I’ve got it!” Raggon knelt beside his brother, examining where the chain connected to the collar. He’d cut as many links off as possible before working on the enchanted metal. “Lay on the deck. No sense you dragging around more of this weight than necessary.”

“For the sake of the High Command, be careful with that barbaric tool!” Morris shouted from across the deck, his aristocratic accent touched with horror when he spied what mischief his two charges were about to embark on. He ran to stop them.

“Hold still.” Raggon muttered, positioning the axe head against the chain’s weakest link nearest the collar. “I’m just going to get you free first.”

Tobias knew when to follow orders. Groaning, he got into place.

With careful precision, Raggon struck the link against the deck. The sound of metal striking metal rang out across the forecastle. Tobias winced with each blow, eyes squeezed shut. It took three solid strikes before the ordinary iron yielded with a satisfying crack. The severed chain clattered to the deck.

“There,” Raggon grunted with satisfaction. He turned to Morris who’d comejust in time. “Got that first part off.”

“By the grace of the heavens alone,” Morris huffed, straightening his disheveled clothing.

At least now Tobias was no longer tethered to a single spot. His brother rubbed the skin around the Typhon’s Kiss still clamped punishingly around his neck. He stared up at his brother, his usual smile replaced by a grimace. “I can’t shift with it.” His voice was raw with frustration.

His powers of moving through the air would leave his physical constraints behind—which was the very reason the witch had used this enchanted metal against the brothers in the first place.

Raggon’s fingers ran over the collar.

“Don’t you dare try to use an axe against that!” Morris warned.

Of course not! Raggon took out the dagger he’d stolen from the last man he’d killed. He’d been able to get his manacles off—maybe there was a way!

The sun climbed higher as they worked, its heat beating down on the deck as the ship cut through the waves. The Duke had excused himself, no longer able to watch. The port fell away behind them, but Raggon barely noticed, focused entirely on the collar.

Blood welled up from where the knife had slipped, a thin line across Tobias’s throat that made Raggon’s hands shake. They’d been at it for hours, trying every angle, every bit of leverage they could manage, but the Typhon’s Kiss sat too snug against skin. One wrong move and… Raggon dropped the knife, bile rising in his throat as he watched his brother dab at the cut.

Tobias’s brown eyes darted at his brother before flashing a determined grin. “You dirty bilge-rat! That’s one way of taking out all competition for the crown.”

Raggon didn’t feel like joking. “We’ll find another way.” But the words tasted like lies. The seam was there, visible and mocking him. Any attempt to work at the crack risked cutting too deep. He could free himself from manacles, but this—this was like trying to remove a noose after the weight of the body had dropped.

Morris approached, his weathered face grave. “I’ve made the orders to take down Circe’s flags.”

“No.” Raggon shook his head. “Fly them high. Nothing else will sail us through these waters unmolested.”

After a moment, Morris nodded. “The helm awaits your orders, Captain. What heading shall I give the helmsman?”

Raggon hesitated, studying his brother. He’d go to every length to free him, even if they’d all stare death in the face. “Set our course for the Undine Isles,” he said. “And tell our new bosun to keep every scrap of canvas flying. We’ll need all the speed she can give us.”

Chapter ten

Scylla’s tentacles shot out like harpoons, wrapping around Thessa before she could react. The Sea Witch’s previously cheerful expression twisted into something ancient and cruel, her teeth sharp as shark’s bones in the cavern’s eerie light. “Hold still, little princess.” Magic whirled around them in a dark current, clinging to Thessa’s tail where the luminous scales shimmered with their own inner light, each one a testament to her royal heritage.

Her beautiful tail! Would she never see it again?

“These spells are complicated. Quit wriggling, girl!”

“What happened to goddaughter?” Thessa snapped through her fear.

The Sea Witch snorted with amusement, the sound echoing off the cavern walls where trapped horrors watched from their bottles. Now Thessa knew where those laugh lines had come from—pure mockery at the suffering of others. The tentaclesconstricted tighter, and magic like black ink began to spiral around her tail.

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