“Erik?” The voice on the other end of the line is gruff, sending chills down my spine. I straighten, even though this isn’t a video call, and I know he can’t see me.
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s been a slight alteration to the plans.”
“Your Majesty?” I smack my forehead with my hand. How many alterations can a simple plan have? There are only two parts to this damned plan.
Get out of Ice Mer territory.
Kill the princess.
For the gods’ sake, part one is already complete. Now he wants to change it? Gods, royals are such a pain in the ass. There’s a reason why I try to avoid them at all costs.
“I need you to take her to the Gates of Hell before you deal with her. Leave the body there. Once you do, you will be released from your debt.”
Before I can respond, the line goes dead. I stare at the offending piece of technology in my hand and groan. How could something so small bring so much trouble?
In one fell swoop, this damned trip more than doubled in length. Instead of finishing things tomorrow, I have to take her straight to the Gates of Hell. I bite my lip.
This means we'll end up in Lethe. Banging my head against my palm, I blow out a long breath. The city of Lethe is home to the Daemon King.
It doesn’t take a genius to see that King Phelix doesn’t just want his daughter dead. He wants to start a mast-cracking war, and he will use me to do it. A swirl of curses leaves my mouth before a throat is cleared behind me. I groan and turn around. LaRue is still standing there, shuffling from one foot to the next.
“What is it, LaRue?”
He has the decency to look frightened as his eyes widen, the whites of his eyes standing out against his terra-cotta skin.
“You-you-you said you wanted us to-to...” LaRue stutters, his hands trembling.
“Spit it out, man, I don’t have all day.”
“You said you wanted us to stay away from the lady, but I saw the first mate heading to her room when I was coming up here with the phone,” he blurts out all at once. I don't even think he breathes. When the words leave his mouth, LaRue steps back and dips his head. “I thought you should know, sir.”
There is a roaring in my head. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” I ask.
Fire runs through my veins. Without looking, I know every inch of my skin has turned a deep red as I tremble with fury. My clenched fists shake as I push past LaRue and descend into the hull, barely noticing my surroundings. I’m aware of sailors jumping out of my way, the sound of muffled conversations filling my ears. I don’t stop for them, I only have one goal.
Before I know it, I am yanking open Helena’s door. It hits the wall with abang, revealing the people inside.
The reality is worse than what I thought.
A shirtless Conrad is clawing at Helena’s pants while he leans over her. His other hand is wrapped in her hair, pressing her face closer to his. She pushes her hands against his chest and shakes her head back and forth repeatedly.
His shoulder is bleeding and angry red marks run down his neck. Helena is kicking wildly, trying to push him away. Her legs beat against him weakly. There’s no way she can push off a man weighing forty stones.
“No!” A guttural roar fills the room. “Not again.”
That’s my voice. I don’t even remember opening my mouth.
Conrad stops what he’s doing. Red floods my vision, and I shove the chair out of the way. I am no longer his captain. I am acting on my basest instincts, and he is the enemy.
“What in the nine circles of hell is going on here?” I roar. I walk over to them, grab him by the back of his neck, and yank him backward until his throat is exposed.
He yells in surprise. “This isn’t what it looks like, Erik,” he says placatingly, his eyes darting back and forth. His hands are trembling, and I know he is scared.
Helena curls in a ball, her back rising and falling with heavy breaths.
“You should be scared,” I whisper in a dangerously low voice to Conrad and throw him against the wall.