Page 211 of The Cradle of Ice
And one other.
A huge sail of wings swept over the raft. As they passed above her, she smelled salty ice and a sulfurous musk. Small frozen crystals shed from its fur, showering her.
The large raash’ke landed near the beach, its claws splashing up water and sand. It stretched its neck into a long keening cry, as if voicing the fury of its rider.
Daal slipped off the saddle and ran a hand along his mount’s neck in gratitude. Contrasting that gentleness, Daal’s face reddened with fury. He held a fist hard to his waist. His blue eyes shone with a fiery rage. The wonder and exhilaration of the flight had not dimmed his anger; if anything, it had sharpened it, especially with the focus of his fury so close at hand.
Nyx had already spotted Fenn inside.
So had Graylin and Vikas.
Before Daal reached her, Nyx slid off her mount. She tried to block Daal with her palms raised.
“Leave it to Graylin and the others,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“What if it had been Bashaliia?” he asked coldly, and splashed past her. A hand settled to the dagger at his belt. “What would you do then?”
Nyx flinched at his words, both at his fury and recognizing he was not wrong. She glanced at her winged brother. Daal had risked much to save Bashaliia.
How can I fault Daal’s fury now?
Still, she swung after Daal, wading quickly to join him. She struggled to find the words to temper his anger, but she knew there were none.
Ahead, Jace stood with Rhaif, trying to explain what happened. Kalder crouched near them, his legs braced, growling at the spread of raash’ke.
Before she and Daal could reach the raft’s open stern, Floraan came rushing out with Henna under one arm.
Rhaif noted her panicked haste. “What’s wrong?”
Before Floraan could answer, fierce shouting rose from inside the raft, then a loud scuffle of heavy bodies. Nyx heard Fenn call out, his voice panicked, “What are you doing?”
Nyx and Daal rushed toward the hold.
With a look of shock, Floraan tried to stop her son. “Daal, where have you—?”
He ignored her, brushed past, and continued inside. Even his mother could not stem his fury or sway his singular focus. Daal had heard Fenn’s voice, too, and nothing would stop him from exacting his revenge.
Nyx cast Floraan an apologetic look and hurried after Daal.
Inside was chaos.
Nyx tried to take in everything at once. Darant knelt at the front. More of his men jostled in the cramped hold, trying to pull Graylin off of Fenn. The knight had the navigator lifted by his throat and pressed against the wall. Vikas helped hold Darant’s men off. But the two were outnumbered, and neither Vikas nor Graylin wanted to hurt anyone—and Darant’s men had axes.
One of them clubbed Graylin hard, knocking him aside.
Fenn slumped down the wall, grasping his neck. A bandage had been knocked loose, showing a deep gash across his brow.
Darant shifted around and bellowed, deafening the cramped space, “Stop this shite now! Or I’ll skin the lot of ya!”
His face was stricken, his eyes shining with misery. Only then did Nyx see whom Darant had been kneeling over. His daughter lay in water, her torso propped up. Her skin pallid and bloodless. Her lips drawn and thin. An iron bar impaled her chest.
Nyx gasped. “Brayl…”
Distracted, she could not stop Daal in time. He dashed through the others, fury fueling his speed. He hit Fenn in the chest with his knees and drove the navigator farther down the wall. Daal kept him pinned under his weight, a dagger at Fenn’s throat.
“You killed Neffa and Mattis,” Daal hissed, rage frothing his lips.
Fenn stammered, “I didn’t … what are you … who…”
