Page 3 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
He struggled against gold cuffs attached to short chains, binding his hands and feet to the floor below. Blood pooled down from the cuffs where the sharpened metal had dug deep into his skin. Bruises scattered along his jaw, tracing up to his right eye that was swollen shut. Long scars from thin blades ran up both his arms, a black substance seeping from them, bubbling over like boiling water.
The door to the dungeon flew open, and Ander’s ragged breaths grew shorter, more forced. He dared to look up as two figures slithered into the room. Ander’s gaze was weak and distracted, floating just over the figures’ shoulders.
“It will all be over soon,” one of them said with a cackle, flipping a dagger in his hand, stalking over to Alexander and shoving the knife—
Sweat covered Katrin’s body as she flung the covers off the bed, bolting straight up from where she had fallen asleep. A preternatural tingle crept up her limbs where she imagined thin swords cutting into flesh, peeling away layer upon layer of skin. This time had been different. Not once had she heard one of the menspeak—seen them move about, torture Ander, sure, but the only sound that ever filled her nightmares was piercing screams. She tried to block them from her mind, the way they rang in her ears like the rumbling of thunder during a treacherous storm. Her heart would clench and shrivel and dry up, no blood left to pump life into her veins or breath into her lungs. That voice—the voice of King Edmund—was so much worse, because it made it seem real.
One week. It had been one week since Katrin escaped the clutches of that northern king, since she sailed away from the man who continuously gave everything to save her, since she saw the last bit of her home flicker out on the horizon. Normally, Katrin would not have been able to eat, the swirling of bile settling in her stomach when the nightmares consumed her. But Ander always willed the life back into her with food and chatter and books about a better world and she would not let that be in vain, so she forced herself to take small bites of the leftover cheeses discarded beside her bed, hoping they’d mend the pang in her stomach.
The nauarch sat in Ander’s chair across from her, his brows furrowed as he watched her nip away at the bits of food, though this time he did not move closer to comfort her. Katrin wondered if Leighton was more pained about leaving Ander behind then she was. If it haunted him just as much while they sailed across the high seas. A muscle in Leighton’s jaw feathered as they sat there in silence. He had not spoken, at least not to Katrin, since he pulled her aboardThe Nostosa week ago.
Everyday it was the same routine, a light knock on the door, a brief smile—though it never reached his ears like it used to. He would sit in that same chair, picking away at his nails until thedeep umber of his skin became streaked with pale scratches and crimson.
The first night aboard the ship, she awoke in a fit, thrashing in the sheets, clawing at her arms and wishing it was her in the dungeons of her nightmares. Leighton had been there, his feet propped up on the footboard like Ander's had been on the very first morning aboardThe Nostos. Pushing up from the chair, his lips had been tight in a line, eyes wide. The glint that always sparkled there was gone. She’d never apologized for blasting him with her starlit fire the day Kohl found them on the seas, but it had not seemed to matter. With tears to mirror Katrin's, he’d walked over to the bed and settled next to her, reaching out his shaking hand.
Leighton had not left her side since then. Someone else took his place to captain the ship—to where, Katrin did not know. Lesathos? Skiatha? Nexos? Eventually they would need to decide. Eventually someone would come after them—if King Edmund's men weren't already. Eventually they would need to talk, but for now, as Katrin picked away at a piece of fish the cook made for her, she did not mind the silence. Because silence meant she did not need to bring up Ileana. Did not need to tell Leighton that his beloved sister was not only alive, but married to the enemy.
Faint scraping came from the door the next morning, one of tiny claws padding the wooden frame, attempting to pull down on the bronze handle and get inside. The noise did not seem to rouseLeighton, who did not even peek open his eyes while she tiptoed past. When Katrin made it over to the door and opened it, neither Mykonos nor her human appeared before her. Looking left and right down the corridor, Katrin tried to catch either of them slinking away, but only dust trickled in the low light below deck.
A sigh escaped Katrin’s lips. She’d hoped someone else would come to see her. Even her sister avoided Katrin’s quarters, too busy interrogating Ajax on how he knew the crew aboardThe Nostos.
“Gods, you frightened me,” rasped a low voice from behind her, scratched and broken from days of no use. Katrin tilted her head to the side, she did not think she made enough noise when she woke, nor when she opened the door to frighten the snoring nauarch. She spun around to face Leighton and her heart all but leapt from her chest. Cross-legged on the bed was the moon-haired seer petting a purring Mykonos.
“How did you get in here?” she asked, loosening a breath through her teeth. No one had been at the door, no one had passed by her as she stepped into the hall, and yet there they were.
The seer’s violet eyes shimmered in the bright light of the morning now coming through the small window. “I have my ways.”
Leighton dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes, a low rumble leaving his mouth. “Don’t let her fool you. She came in through the war room.”
Arching one of her jet-black brows, Thalia gripped the edge of the bed with her narrow fingers. “Like I said, I have my ways, they just aren’t all stealth and trickery like you think. Regardless, I am not here to have unnecessary banter, Leighton. Are you two done wallowing in silence down here or not? I know this is difficult for you both—losing the captain has been difficult for all ofus—but drowning in self-pity is not going to help us get him back. We must finalize our course.”
Katrin’s head shot back slightly. Thalia was never this harsh in her tone, especially when speaking to Leighton. But could Katrin blame her? Thalia was right—she and Leighton were not the only ones who lost someone in the escape, the whole crew did. Revenge was a fickle demon, something Thalia said she never wanted, and yet it was the only fire that lingered in her words. Finally getting revenge for the men who violated her, stripped her from her home, took the man who saved her. They shared such parallel stories, and gods did Katrin want it too. To see Edmund and Khalid bleed for what they took from her. From all of them.
“How can we plan what we are going to do if we don’t even have a place to go? There can’t be enough supplies aboard to return to Skiatha, and Lesathos will be the first place Edmund sends his guards to search.” Katrin’s voice was shaky as she plopped down on the nearby navy velvet chair.
“She doesn't mean we will sail for Skiatha, nor Lesathos, Princess—or should I say Queen now?” Leighton chuckled, though no smile lit his melancholy features.
“As I’ve told you many times before, Leighton, you may call me Katrin. Where do we sail then? One of the smaller isles?” Katrin asked.
The nauarch shifted in his seat, crossing one foot up on his other leg. His nails tapped the arm of the chair for a few raps before he said, “We will go to Nexos. If we want to rescue Ander, we will need his father’s help.”
Hearing the name of that isle that she’d despised for so long out loud still sent an icy chill through her veins. Katrin hadto remind herself to unclench her fists, that Nexos was never the real enemy. But King Nikolaos was still a stubborn and vengeful man who held a grudge and could kill you with the snap of his fingers. Was it suicide waltzing into his kingdom to ask for help? Was it not her fault his eldest son, the heir to his throne, now deteriorated in a dungeon? Could she trust him not to throw her in one of his own? Then send his soldiers to rescue his son himself?
“Nexos…I never thought…” Katrin glanced out the window at the swirling tides below. “I never thought I'd see the wretched place.” Thedecaying kingdommany liked to say. The stone buildings fell apart after the Prince of Nexos went missing. A kingdom that never forgot the olde ways. What creatures might roam its dying streets? Those that would rival thedaimonsof Aidesian?
“It's our only choice.” Thalia stood from the bed, placing a yawning Mykonos back down on it. “Leighton, we could use you at the helm. Kristos has barely gone below deck since you've stayed down here.” Leighton gave a curt nod. The two made to leave the room, but Katrin cut them off, stepping in front of the door. She had to apologize. Had to saysomethingto them, but the words escaped her.
“If we are speaking now, then we should talk about what happened. I…gods, I don’t even know how to start,” Katrin managed to say in barely more than a whisper.
“It's alright, Katrin.” Thalia lay her lithe palm against Katrin's trembling arm.
“So that's it? You both just forgive me? After everything I said”—Katrin looked over at Leighton—“after everything Idid?” Her face was pale, hands wringing together in an attempt not to scratch at her skin.
Leighton's face softened, and a little glimmer of the sparkle in his emerald eyes returned. “There was never anything to forgive.” He wrapped his arms around Katrin, holding her tightly to him, and for the first time since they escaped Alentus, Katrin truly breathed.
Chapter Two
Ember
