Page 8 of Ruthless Scoundrel
That’s how often they feed and water the slaves.
Too infrequently.
So barbaric.
Ki’ah Ohn. The scourge of Gaien.
I don’t let my thoughts linger on that as I make my way to the port side and lower myself toward the water. There’s a ladder held against the hull for climbing back onto the ship from “away missions.” Also known as raiding. The captain of these pirates has his strongest magi go ashore everywhere we’ve stopped, collecting goods and slaves. It pains me to my core to turn a blind eye, but…
“Promise me.”
I rip off my boot and let my bare foot skim the water.
The current is moving southwest, just as it should. It’s pulling us along toward the furthest Illyan island, where Reina and I will make our trek toward the false king, Vansen, who holds my people hostage.
The water slips between my toes and I relish the feeling. It’s cold, and shockingly receptive to my magic in this form. I close my eyes and listen to the song of the sea as it sprays against my face. Sails flap in the wind and the Men shout above, but I let myself drift into the rhythm of the ocean.
Swell.
Dip.
Rush.
It’s hypnotic, and I fall into a trance as I breathe in time with the sea. My thoughts wander down to the hold where the princess sits in filth, bringing a wash of guilt with it.
Swell.
Dip.
Rush.
There’s no space for guilt when all my people are depending on me. I’m responsible for them, and if that means a posh princess has to spend a few weeks in discomfort, then that’s what’s going to happen.
Swell.
Dip.
…
Dip.
Drag.
Shift.
What?
I open my eyes and look to the northeast where the sea is pulling. It’s not supposed to pull that way.
A dark cloud hangs over the water toward Fynren and it’s moving quickly. I suck in a breath and clamber up the ladder. “Storm!” I shout from the side of the hull, praying someone will hear me.
Not as if it’ll do any good. These clouds are moving unnaturally fast.
Magicallyfast.
They cast a shade over the sea that can’t be breached by the sun, blackening the water. It feels like there’s an entity behind this storm, and something tells me that sensation is not misplaced.
Reina is the golden girl, the light of the kingdom of Fynren. I have stolen their greatest treasure, and now I’m seeing the consequences of my work.
