“I’m tired,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t know about you.”
I narrowed my eyes at that casual sentence. After another bout of silence, I was backing up into the cell, distancing myself from the bars until my back hit the wooden wall. Vidar watched me as I slid down and sat on the floor where a thin pad of bedding was rolled out.
“Dessert, huh?” he said. When I didn’t respond to that, he just shook his head again. “Does dessert usually react like that or did you sing her into liking you so she and the others wouldn’t try to escape?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I did.” I looked at Vidar’s chest where his shirt was unlaced enough for me to see my handiwork as well as the scar on his sternum. “You going to gag me or cut out my tongue? Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous for a thing like me to have a voice?”
“All my men wear a silentium. I’m not worried about that. What I’m worried about is what the hell happened on that island.”
His eyes flicked toward the gash on my thigh. Blood had dried and crusted to my skin, but the wound itself was healing.
“Does that hurt? You haven’t acted like it does.”
“Would you care?”
In truth, it hurt when it happened. It hurt after. Then it all turned off. I could do that. I had to learn how to do that a long time ago. Pain was part of life. Debilitating pain was just a distraction. One I’d taughtmyself to grow immune to when I was alone in the dark and monstrous ocean for all those years.
But I didn’t want to tell Vidar any of that. I didn’t want him to know my secrets, my flaws, or my strengths. A man like him was only looking to exploit them.
My thoughts wandered back to Ahnah. He’d used my mercy against me before. What was stopping him now? Would he stoop so low as to hurt those girls? The ship I found them on certainly didn’t care for their well-being.
Humans were all alike.
“Do I need to knock you silly so you let someone mend that leg?”
That was more like it.
If my hate could burn flesh, he’d be a charred pile of bone.
“It will heal,” I said.
“You hurt anywhere else?”
I shook my head, pursing my lips with defiance. When he realized I was done speaking, he let his fatigue show and lowered his head, running a hand over his coarse dreadlocks.
“Sleep tight, then,” he exhaled. “Or do whatever it is you do.”
I watched him drag his feet toward the steps and disappear before I finally let myself breathe normally. I slouched, burying my face in my hands and biting back a scream.
I had been so stupid. Why couldn’t I kill him? It would have been quick and done, perhaps before the xhoth showed up. Those bastards ruined everything. My revenge. My focus. I could still see Voel lying on the ground, her insides on the outside. She died so fast that I could hardly process what happened. Now, in a cell by myself, the pain of that loss hit me like a punch to the lungs.
Don’t show weakness.
I chanted it over and over again in my head. Weakness could be exploited and I knew Vidar did that very well. I was a heartless beast willing to kill any man on that ship. I didn’t care if they had families. I didn’t care if they begged. I would rip them apart the first moment I got the chance. I wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to draw it outagain like I did with Vidar. Now he had the upper hand and my sisters were gone.
I stood and started pacing, trying to bury my ire so it wouldn’t show if anyone ventured into the hold. I needed to be calm. Calculating. Ruthless.
But no matter the mantras I repeated in my head, my breath still quivered and my eyes still burned with the sadness I refused to let out. I sucked in a deep breath only to catch a whiff of Vidar’s lingering scent. Leather, salty sea air, rum, and oak.
Fucking scum.
I memorized that scent, swearing to myself that no matter what happened, I’d always find a way to follow it to his death.
My leg was sore once I let myself feel it. I slumped down again to look at the damage and winced at the ugly laceration with disdain. The bastards had knives made of rock and serrated with shark teeth. The gash wasn’t clean and it wasn’t shallow. It would have killed a human in minutes. I prodded the inflamed flesh and was pleased to see it already fusing together. It would just be another faint scar in a few days.
I rested my head back on the wall and stared up at the swinging lantern outside my cell. The candle inside was short and almost spent. Perhaps I’d get lucky and the thing would burn out and give me a little darkness to rest my eyes. I stared at it, willing it to dim, and the swinging rhythm of it eventually lulled me to sleep anyway.
. . .