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Berolt lowered his voice further while Riella fumbled with the trousers. The first time she tried putting them on, she somehow managed to get them backward. They did fit well enough, though, staying up over her hips once she had them on the right way.
After hearing Berolt’s words, Jarin paused, glancing over at Riella. For some time, he continued muttering back and forth with his crew mate, and she heard very little of it. Not that she cared about the plotting of pirates. She only cared about leaving this ship. And decapitating Jarin, if she could manage it. See if he could survive that.
Berolt darted up the stairs and returned less than a minute later, handing tools to Jarin.
“Siren,” he barked, striding to her with a mallet and chisel. He stood over her, pointing the mallet. “I’m going to remove your manacles. If you attack me, I will cave in your pretty little skull.”
She glared up at him, grinding her teeth. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options. With a jerk of her head, she nodded her assent.
“There’s been a change of plan.” He squatted in front of her. “I’ll make you a deal. I will let you off this ship when we arrive at Klatos, if you kill the captain. Artus.”
“You’re not the captain?”
“No. Second in command.”
Riella blinked. “So, you want me to kill . . . the leader of the Dark Tide Clan?”
She would’ve done that for free, and for fun, but she kept that to herself.
“That’s right. I need him dead, and none of us can do it.”
“Why not?”
“Blood oath. You wouldn’t understand.”
She scoffed. “Because pirates are so mysterious and complex. No one could possibly fathom the depths of your stupid rules and covenants.”
He shrugged. “Take it or leave it. But I’d still owe you death, siren, to be clear.”
Despite her rage and annoyance, Riella thought of Seraphine. The elf would perish if Riella left her with Polinth. She had to get back to the Black Cliffs.
“Sure, I’ll kill him,” said the siren. “But then you’ll take me to the Black Cliffs. And if you want to kill me, it’s in a fair fight. Not while I’m slumped in the brig of your stinky ship.”
A flash of curiosity crossed his features. “What’s at the Black Cliffs?”
“Yes or no?”
He grabbed both chains with one hand and wrenched her toward him without warning. She pitched forward, barely catching herself with her knees. Her feet and toes grappled with the dirty floor, trying to gain purchase while he held the chains steady.
“You’ve got a deal,” said Jarin, lining up the chisel over the bolt of one of the manacles.
Berolt looked on in silence.
The commander drew the mallet high over his head. As he brought it down on the chisel, she willed herself not to flinch. The mallet made perfect contact, driving the chisel into the bolt. The manacle fell open like a clamshell. He opened the second one with the same precision.
Riella wrested her hands away, rubbing the raw skin of her wrists and sighing with relief. She prodded at the lily-white soles of her feet with her fingers, wondering how she’d get around on them. They’d be a disadvantage when fighting the captain, but she’d just have to make do.
The commander collected the chains and tools and slung them out of the cell, where they landed in a pile with a clatter. He got up and went to leave, but stopped at the last second. “How’d that happen, anyway?” he asked. “Your legs?”
“Sorcery,” she replied with a grumble.
He folded his arms, the veins prominent over his tanned muscles. “Polinth?”
CHAPTER 5
Riella did a double-take. “Yes, it was Polinth. How’d you know?”
“I knew someone he studied with. His reputation precedes him.” He frowned at her as she struggled to stand. “You better work out how to use your legs, if you’re to hold up your end of the bargain. You’ll save me a mutiny, and you get to live another day.”
