Before Quarter can finish his sentence or go through with his threat, a cold, smooth voice cuts through the air like a boom, a volcano erupting in the middle of a silent twilight.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
At the sound of the commander’s voice, Quarter’s head whips over, and my eyes snap open in surprise.
Commander Rip is standing there, flanked by two of his soldiers. The three of them are menacing and dark, like obscure shadows spreading their darkness. Even with the helmet obscuring his face, I can tell that the commander is seething.
“Move away from the favored. Now.”
No room for argument, no politeness in the commander’s tone. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to sound frightening.
Quarter straightens up at the command. “She’s lying about something, and I’ll be finishing this discussion before you take her.”
To be honest, I’m too shocked at Quarter’s courage to be nervous for myself. But beside me, I hear Rissa whimper, like she’s afraid we’re about to be caught up in a deadly fight, and maybe we are, because the three pirates behind Quarter grasp the hilts of their swords nervously.
But the soldiers behind Commander Rip don’t move an inch. The commander himself also doesn’t grip his gnarled hilt. He doesn’t take a step forward. He doesn’t even argue.
No, the commander laughs.
The sound pours out of his helmet and pools in the air between us, making the pirates go tense. It’s the sound of a warning. It’s the laugh of a madman, one set on the promise of blood.
A threatening aura as thick as tar pulses off him, making my skin bead with an unnatural chill. The spikes on the commander’s arms gleam black like a chasm’s throat ready to swallow Quarter whole, and I nearly feel sick with fear.
This is the monster that King Ravinger unleashes on Orea. This is the male terror that the legends and gossip and tales are derived from. No wonder no one wants to meet him on a battlefield.
Beside me, Quarter blanches behind his mask, his eyes widening like prey who vastly underestimated the predator.
“Fine, take her,” Quarter blurts, his voice gruff, caught between fear and a feeble attempt to sound confident. “I can’t trust the words from a whore’s mouth, anyway.”
“Good choice.” The commander’s voice is like a sinister purr.
Quarter grinds his teeth, irked with the patronizing tone, but he turns and stalks off, retreating into the captain’s rooms like a dog with his tail between his legs. Smart man. The other three pirates shoot glares at the soldiers before they also turn and follow behind him.
I stare at the commander, barely able to breathe. Too affected by his palpable menace to be relieved that I’m escaping Quarter’s questions.
“Let’s go.” The commander speaks the order quietly but firmly.
He turns and walks off, while the two soldiers with him wait for Rissa and me. We peel ourselves away from our frozen spots near the captain’s quarters and begin to walk, my steps lagging slightly.
As we walk across the deck, the gazes of the Red Raids follow us, their masks like sneers. But Fourth’s soldiers don’t pay them any mind, don’t even seem to care as they escort Rissa and me toward the ramp, a light dusting of snow covering the gangplank.
I let my eyes scan the faceless red masks of the pirates one last time, my gaze catching on the pole where they’d strung up Sail. I have the biggest urge to spit at their feet, but I hold it in.
I face forward as the commander begins to walk down the ramp, his boots making prints over the wood as he descends. Rissa and I follow quietly behind him, the other two soldiers at our backs.
But exhaustion is rebelling through my body, threatening to take over. My weary, stumbled steps don’t go well together with the steep incline of the gangplank, especially when it’s slippery.
I try to focus each step, going slow and careful, but even so, my legs are shaking, my energy sapped. So I’m not even surprised when my boot hits a patch of ice and I go tripping forward, unable to catch myself.
I nearly knock into Rissa, but I manage to jerk my body to the left before I run into her. Of course, that only makes me toss myself right over the side of the ramp, and I go flying off.
Luckily, I’m near the bottom, at least. Bright side.
On my short fall toward the ground, my arms and loose ribbons thrust in front of me in an attempt to catch myself, and I brace myself for the impact.
I land hard, my hands and knees bursting with pain as I hit the thick snow. Wet cold immediately soaks into my skirt and gloves. My ribbons nearly collapse beneath my weight, the hardened contours pulsing with a sharp ache, but at least I didn’t land flat on my face.
For a moment, my dizziness and exhaustion is so great that I worry I’m not going to be able to pick myself back up, that I’m just going to collapse in the snow. But I can’t let that happen. I’m entirely too exposed and vulnerable here, beneath the veil of a clouded morning.
I startle when the crack of a whip shatters the air, followed by the thunderous sound of countless fire claws growling.
Behind me, the ships of the snow pirates begin to slowly drag away, wooden hulls scraping against waves of ice, my prostrate body so close to them that the ground trembles beneath me.
But beyond the ships that are inching away, gaining momentum by their fiery beasts, I see a sea of white landscape that’s clogged with hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Fourth Kingdom’s soldiers.
Like craggy rocks littered throughout the once pristine landscape, they’re everywhere. With these numbers, it becomes blatantly obvious why the pirates didn’t dare fight the commander. With this might at his back, they would be
