Page 17

Idonea stood and smiled. “Thank you.”

As she walked past the pirate, his hand closed around her wrist. Loose grip, and alcohol breath. Slow reflexes. He wasn't dangerous, but irritating.

“I could be company tonight,” he said.

Idonea looked him over, letting the silence stretch first. Then she smiled slightly. “You aim above your reach.” She hadn’t shared a bed since Jovana’s last breath, and this man didn’t deserve her memory.

“Suit yourself.” He spat near her boots.

She didn’t flinch, but she remembered. Just in case.

“Trouble there?” the barkeep asked.

Idonea cleared her throat. “No. My room, please.” She glanced back at the pirate and hoped he wouldn’t follow later. She didn’t need that hassle.

The barkeep nodded and led her up the creaky wooden staircase to the second floor. The lamps had blackened the walls and ceilings. Although quaint, the room was serviceable. She said her thanks and set one gold claw into his palm as payment. He looked down at it in surprise and mumbled his thanks before backing away.

Idonea went to the window and opened it, letting Lance fly in. She threw him more dried pork, and he ate it without balking. Behind a privacy screen stood a bathtub and washstand. Like back at home, the water was heated through a copper conductor while the steam pump fed water up into the bath. A luxury she didn’t expect to find.

Lance curled up on the bed, flicking his tongue out once, as if daring Idonea to move him.

Though sleep beckoned, Idonea was uneasy with the idea. She rested the jug of water in front of the door. Her hand rested near her dagger, ready to prick a finger if needed. Bloodletting was the easiest way to access the Current for a Riven.

She dozed. Then the door creaked.

Steel sang against flesh as she sliced her thumb open. Current roared through her veins. Her pupils slit, and her nails blackened and elongated.

The jug crashed to the ground as the door swung inwards. The pirate staggered in, scent of booze wafting in with him. Lance hissed, uncoiling from the bed.

Idonea drew her blade across the inside of her wrist.

“What the—” the pirate’s voice was cut off.

Idonea’s hand clamped over his throat, sharpened nails puncturing his flesh, her blood weeping over him.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. He’d seen Lance, so he couldn’t live. It was simple. She might not like the beast, but he was hers to protect.

Idonea whispered a word of stillness. His hands grabbed hers, trying to pry away her fingers.

She squeezed tighter. Both of their pulses aligned, Idonea sensing the pirate’s own heartbeat right next to hers.

Lance hovered nearby, but she held her other hand up to halt any action from him. Idonea took a deep breath, halting her own heart.

She pulled his limp body further into the room, kicking the door behind her. Her heart missed several beats as she did.

His fingers slackened and fell away from hers; his heartbeat didn't resume. Idonea let his body fall to the floor with a thump.

Dizziness swarmed her vision, and she staggered to the right. For one ugly second, it didn't restart. Cold flooded her limbs. Then the rhythm slammed painfully back into place. She swallowed and closed her eyes, hoping to stabilise herself.

“What a mess,” she muttered, opening her eyes and prodding his body with the toe of her boot. His heart didn't resume like hers did. The body looked smaller now. Idonea hated that part. She pressed her hand harder against the bleeding wrist.

She pulled out one of the many cloths in her satchel and hastily wrapped it around her wrist.

Kneeling at the body’s side, Idonea frowned at the puncture marks in his neck. She didn't know if he'd friends downstairs waiting for him, or if he'd his own room. She’d put his spirit to rest, just like the boy on the airship.

Her eyes snapped to Lance, who'd one eye opened, peering at her with mild interest.

“Lance?” she said. “You’re helping.”