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It’s so sharp and unexpectedly painful that it pulls a yelp from my throat. I grab hold of his wrist, but his grip on my hair is too tight and I just hurt myself. “What the hell is wrong with—” “Here.” He holds a biscuit in front of my face. “Eat it and I’ll let you go.” I stare at him like he’s crazy. He gives my hair another wrench. “Eat, you idiot!”
“A little.” “What, are you six years old?” I demand. “Who fights like that?” “It worked, didn’t it?”
I told him I would find a way to slit his throat in his sleep if he didn’t find us somewhere else.
He can’t give me what I need. I need to reverse time. I need Corrick back. Sometimes I remember his voice so clearly it’s like he’s beside me, and the memory is so painful that I think my chest is caving in. Please, my love.
“I don’t need to lie about anything at all. Maybe I just need to convince him that I’m the only one who can help him get what he wants.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised that he would figure out a way to stage a revolution through paperwork.”
“Prince Corrick and Tessa took off their masks. It may be time to let them see you, too, Your Majesty.”
are you, Wes?” I grit my teeth and pull hard on the oars. “I have other skills.” I didn’t mean for it to sound coy or taunting, but some of the pirates whistle. Lina laughs from behind me, and then her breath is hot on my neck, her body pressed against my spine. “Is that so?” she purrs, her fingers tracing up the outside of my arm. “I can’t wait to hear.” The oars go still in my hands, and for an instant I consider shoving one right back at her. It would take almost no effort. I could put it right through her throat.
“I should have brought the prince’s young servant along? Would you have served tea? Buttoned jackets?” He rubs at his throat. “Now that you mention it, I could use a shave.” I smile. “By all means, bring me a blade.”
“I wasn’t that kind of servant,” I say. “Lochlan mentioned that Weston here has other skills,” Lina says. She presses close to me again, but her voice has turned mocking. “What did you do for your prince, servant boy?” Some of the sailors whistle, so she smiles, encouraged. Her voice drops to a whisper as she traces a finger over my lips suggestively, then moves to stroke a hand down my chest. “What did he like you to do for him?”
Half a dozen crossbows are pointed at me, but none have fired yet. Most of the men on the deck are staring at me in shock. I look at Oren Crane. “I killed people.”
My thoughts ice over, my vision turning dark. I don’t want to do this. As usual, fate doesn’t care what I want. Thoughts of Tessa sneak into my head anyway, a memory of the day she found me in the Hold, soaked in blood after I’d been forced to execute two prisoners. I have to choke back a whimper. Please, my love. Forgive me.
I don’t want to do it again. But my grip on Lina tightens. “No,” says Lochlan. “We don’t work for you. What’s the pay?” I freeze. Lina’s breathing is so thin it’s barely a whistle. She’s almost limp against me, hardly struggling now. No one has come to her rescue. None of them are willing to stand against Oren Crane. “The pay?” Oren says incredulously. “Yeah,” says Lochlan. “The pay. The prince paid a lot. You gave us a week in a cell. Wes isn’t your errand boy. If you don’t like Lina, pay up, or kill her yourself.” Oren looks like Lochlan just told him to eat a handful of sand. “You’re my
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“Touch me again,” I say, “and he won’t have to pay me a cent.”
But it was a means to escape. A step toward rescuing Tessa. A step toward home.
He leans close and growls, “I’m going to force-feed you this coin in a second—”
the washroom. There’s a flaw in the wood on the table, and I pick at it absently while I think. Again, I should be plotting, planning, strategizing, but instead I just keep seeing Tessa. I hope she’s safe. For as much as I hate Rian, I don’t think he would hurt her. I remember the way he sat across from her at dinner in the palace, mocking me and flirting with her all at the same time. He’s exactly the man Weston Lark would be, if he were real. I swallow and it hurts. She thinks I’m dead. Rian might not harm her, but what I’m imagining him doing is a whole lot worse.
“Lochlan,” I say. “Please. Forgive me. I didn’t know—” “Shut up.” I draw myself up. “Would you—” “I told you to shut up.” “At the very least, allow me to—” “Lord, you are the worst,” he snaps. “Fine then. Apologize. Do it on your knees and beg.” “I will do no such thing.” He takes another bite of the apple. “Then shut up.”
Well, that’s what I’ve been doing. Lochlan hasn’t said much, so he could be singing nursery rhymes in his head for all I know.
Tessa, I’m coming. Forgive me.
I clap him on the shoulder and give her a knowing look. “Forgive his rudeness,” I say mildly. Then I beckon her closer and whisper loudly, “He can’t hold his liquor.”
After the heat and stench and clamor of the tavern, the night air feels like a cool balm against my skin. I’m tense and irritable after being chastised over drinking, and I’m practically stomping alongside Lochlan like a child.
Im sorry to tell you my friend that that was not the only time you acted like a child.still love you tho!
Oh. Considering I was going to do exactly that, I don’t know what to say. He glances over. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you limping?” I look right back at him. “We’ve been walking all day. Some self-righteous rebel told a mob to beat me to death a while ago. My right ankle is starting to give me trouble.” “Oh, right. I know how you feel.” He holds out his hand and flexes his joints gingerly. “Some stupid prince broke my wrist a few weeks before that.”
And then I realize I’ve lost track of Lochlan, too. It feels like forever since I was last hiding in the darkness, and it’s weird to do it without Tessa beside me. I’d know her emotion without her having to say a word, whether she was feeling brave or frightened, angry or eager. I’d know the pattern of her breathing, the scent of her skin, the meaning of every indrawn breath or frown. I’d give anything to have her here right now.
I’m prepared to fight, so I’m surprised when he falls back a few steps and gasps. His eyes skip up and down my form, and he actually says, “You’re not a gull.” “No,” I say.
Like....what?!?!that was his reaction?(insert laugh emoji) I love that guy so much like the fact that that was his first reaction is priceless
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, and I mean it. “Please forgive me. This wasn’t my intent.” His fingers are already shifting against the floorboards. No one ever stays knocked out for long. Maybe it’s because he reminds me so much of an older version of my best friend, but I don’t think I can kill a doddering man who says things like you’re not a gull to an intruder.
They sound so friendly and kind that I want to climb back up those stairs, untie those suspenders from Edward, and throw myself out the broken window. I thought the first man was too much with his sir and you’re not a gull, but I’m supposed to kill this one? I’m supposed to bring back his head? He sounds like the grandfathers in the Wilds who’d share warm stories about their childhoods while Tessa and I were bringing them medicine. They’d pat me on the cheek and call me a good boy and wink at me, asking if I was sweet on Tessa when she couldn’t hear.
Just a little, I’d always say.
“No,” he growls, his voice low. “I actually kind of hate that you’re not a monster.” His eyes are very dark in the shadows. “But I know you can do terrible things when you have to.”

