“Hold.” The Guardian’s command tore me from the dread. When I looked to the ship, his silver eyes were waiting. His harpoon was raised, his face eerily calm as he stared past the weapon’s point. There was a spraying noise behind me, the same sound a ship made as its hull cut through the sea. But it wasn’t a ship on my heels. It was death. If I was going to die, I didn’t want my last sight to be rows of teeth, so I stayed locked on the Guardian. He might be a jackass, but at least he was handsome. There were worse things to behold at the end of a life than a nice face.
