Page 67 of A Storm in Every Heart
I know I stabbed him. I might have stabbed him in the stomach instead of the heart, but he still should have died—or, at least, the wound should have slowed him down. What kind ofcreature looks human but heals instantly? Not even the Fae heal so fast, as if by magic.
Most magical creatures are hard to kill, but there are ways. A wound to the heart will kill almost anything, as will fire, beheading, and drowning. The Fae can live for hundreds—if not thousands—of years, but they still need beating hearts and air in their lungs.
I lean my head back against the iron bars and let out a soft moan of mingled pain and frustration.
It was so incredibly stupid of me to go off on my own for no better reason than to avoid looking Kastian in the eye. Now, I would trade practically anything to go back and do that moment over.
But of course, as I’ve often thought lately, there are only so many second chances, and I’ve already used mine up.
After what I think must be hours, my stomach starts to growl.
An hour after that, the growling turns to shooting pain.
Just when I’m growing so hungry that I’m contemplating gnawing on my leather shoes, I hear a loud creak of hinges and a shaft of light streams down the stairs. Seconds later, the glow of a lantern and a pair of feet come into view. I hear the jingle of keys with every step, and my already racing heart beats double time.
This is my chance.
I jump to my feet and rush to the bars of my cell, eagerly waiting for whichever pirate has come to bring me my supper. I’m sure he’ll have cotton in his ears like Captain Connell, but perhaps if I shout I can still bewitch him. It’s my only chance.
An enormous wave of disappointment crashes over me when the figure reaches the bottom of the stairs and raises their lantern to illuminate their face.
It’s a girl—or, a woman, I suppose. I can’t tell in the dim light how old she is or whether she’s Fae or human.
Regardless, her presence makes my life harder.
The siren song isn’t a danger to women. It only affects men because its purpose is finding fathers for our children. Apparently, Captain Connell knows more about sirens than the average man, which doesn’t bode well for me.
As the girl walks closer, I see that she’s probably Fae, though it’s still hard to tell with her dishwater-blonde hair covering her ears and a layer of dirt and grime coating her unsmiling face. She’s tall for a woman and bone thin. Her maroon striped dress is torn in some places and mended in others, and there’s soot and dirt on her apron. She holds a full plate of food and a lantern in one hand, and in the other she brandishes a pistol that looks slightly too large for her to hold comfortably.
“Where are we going?” I ask, without bothering to say hello.
“Don’t talk to me,” the girl hisses, her voice quavering slightly.
“I can’t influence you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The girl says nothing as she steps up to the door to my cell. She puts the lantern down and shuffles the plate in her hands to reach for the keys on her belt without lowering her pistol.
My gaze locks on the keyring, and I lick my dry lips.
“Step back,” the girl says, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m going to open the door and put the plate down. Don’t even think about trying to get past me or I’ll shoot you.”
I appraise her carefully.
From the way she’s dressed, I think she must be a servant—and likely not a very well-paid one. There aren’t many women on ships, so either she was incredibly desperate for a job or her husband or lover is among the crew. Either way, I doubt she’s familiar with how to shoot a pistol. Guns are human inventionsand uncommon in Ellender—most Fae wouldn’t have ever even seen one.
“You don’t know how to shoot that, do you?” I ask.
“I do,” she says, the lie clear in her voice.
I roll my eyes. “Put that down. You’re more likely to blow your own hand off than successfully shoot me.”
The girl looks warily at the pistol, then back to me. “But then you’ll run at me the moment I open the door.”
“I promise that I won’t, just tell me where we’re going.”
She gives the pistol another suspicious glance before placing it on the floor. “Solistine.”
I raise my eyebrows. Why on earth would we be going there?
