Page 102 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

Fear and confusion crippled Nola as she stood at the center of the captain’s quarters.

Wentworth’s hand searched for the bed lamp in the darkened room. When the space around her lightened up, she searched every wall for another exit, but there was none.

Nola peered into the eyes of her captor, who stood under the door frame with his arms crossed leisurely over his broad chest, blocking her only escape.

A small bed stood in the corner of the room with two large red pillows and silky black sheets. A beige blanket draped at the end of the bed—loosely covering a long bronze chain which dangled to the floor.

The sight of a chain and cuff made her stomach lurch.

Leather-bound books lined the walls. One row of books was held up by a decorative atlas of the ten kingdoms of the world. Shades of bronze and silver decorated the shelves; coins, gold, gems, and ancient-looking compasses.

Nola was fascinated to see such valuable artifacts up close. She wanted to touch the smooth surfaces of such priceless possessions. Clearly, they had stolen everything in that room.

The siren glanced up, right as Wentworth cocked his head to the side. A disconcerted sneer grew on his lips, sending a shiver down Nola’s spine.

“Now what?” she asked nervously. “Chain me to your bed with those shackles?”

Amusement glinted in the old man’s eyes. “I can’t ’ave ye divin’ into the sea, now, can I?”

Wentworth padded across the room and stopped in front of her.

She refused to step back. “I don’t know how to swim, you buffoon, if that’s what you are afraid of.”

An unreadable expression flitted across his face. “I’m not afraid of anythin’.” His voice was low and menacing.

“No, you are, aren’t you?” she tested. “If you don’t deliver me to the prince, you’re afraid he will kill you.”

A slight flare of his nostrils gave him away.

Nola frowned. “You don’t have to do this, you know?” she said wearingly. “Please, Wentworth. You can return me to the Sybil Curse, and you can sail far from this place.” She bit the bottom of her lip. “Or you can help me fight against the king.”

He raised a brow and let out a snort. “Fight against the king? Ye are madder than I expected.”

Wentworth studied her for a long moment before reaching out. She flinched as he traced her neckline with the tip of his wrinkly fingers. Then he pulled up her sleeves and ran his touch along her wrists.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why are you touching me?”

“Where is it, Nola?” he asked calmly.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What are you looking for?”

“Don’t play coy, lil’ siren,” he said, stepping forward. “The ruby. Where is it?”

My ruby?She thought. How does he know about my ruby?

She shook her head. “I don’t know of any ruby,” she lied. “And if I had, why would I hand over such a precious gem?”

Memories of her time with Prince Elijah at the marketplace crossed her mind. The bracelet was under her sleeve—he could not have possibly seen it, and if he had, the prince was showered in wealth. Why would he care about a ruby the size of a fingernail?

“All hands on deck,” they heard a distant bellow from the crew above.

Nola looked up. “What’s happening?” she asked as the ship rocked more than usual.

He smirked. “Welcome to the Portland Sea, siren; another storm is comin’.” He pointed to the bed. “I want ye there,” he ordered.

Nola did not move, so Wentworth took hold of the back of her neck, shoving her forward. She turned quickly, clawing at his face, but Wentworth slammed his fist against her jaw. Blood dripped slowly from her lips.

Every nerve in her body cried out in sheer pain.

---