His Majesty? Iodale didn’t have a king… “We’re not going to Iodale, are we?”
“There’s been a change of course, mate,” the one with the face sneered. “The captain’s bringing you to Vellana.”
Brilliant. I had a few things to discuss with the king.
* * *
BANG.
My eyes burst open.
Captain Merriweather waited on the other side of the bars, looking as pleasant as ever with a scowl on his face and murder in his shite-brown eyes. He threw a bundle of cloth at my lap and ordered me to change.
I held up a yellowed garment that stank as if it’d already been worn by a man who’d never heard of a bath. When I pinched the material between my thumb and finger, I could hear it scrape. “Is this supposed to be a shirt? Feels like sandpaper. I have very sensitive skin, you know.”
Our dear captain’s smile tightened. “You won’t need to worry about your skin once they peel it off your bones.”
Someone was in a mood. I stood and fixed a smile on my face as I twisted to show him the back of my dress. “Care to help me with these laces? They’re awfully hard to reach.”
He whipped out his dagger and cut clean through the back, nicking my spine in the process.
“You cut me.”
His teeth flashed. “Good.”
“No one likes a sore loser, sailor.”
“I haven’t lost, only been delayed.”
It was awfully optimistic of him to think so. As long as I lived, he wouldn’t be getting within shouting distance of my soulmate ever again. I changed into the “shirt” and loose trousers. To be honest, losing my skin would’ve been preferable to wearing garments of such poor quality. The bastard hadn’t even given me a belt. I had to use a piece of rope through the loops like a peasant in order to keep the trousers around my hips.
“Now for your jewelry.” Merriweather held out a set of manacles in a gloved hand.
Wasn’t that precious? He was so worried about the iron burning his skin that he covered his hands. “Pretty gloves. Do those come in men’s sizes?”
His jaw flexed and pulsed. The iron burned like feckin’ crazy when he tightened the manacles around my wrists, but I didn’t so much as flinch. My hands would fall off before I let him see me blink.
With my non-existent power bound, he withdrew the cutlass at his hip and swung it toward the ladder at the far side of the room. “Ladies first.”
I breezed past him with my head slightly bowed so I didn’t end up knocking myself out on one of the worn beams. Caden prodded me with his blade, grumbling to hurry it on. I only complied with the order because I could smell fresh air. Well, notfresh-fresh air. Everything still reeked of fish and seaweed, but at least it didn’t smell like a privy in Dreadshire.
After so long in the dark, I had to squint against the daylight. When my eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, I saw twelve broad-shouldered soldiers in red and gold livery waiting on deck beside the gangway.
The one at the front with the fancy hat and a handlebar mustache stepped forward. “Captain Caden Merriweather, you have some nerve returning to our shores after escaping the king’s prison.”
Oh, brilliant. Fresh airanda show. I folded my arms over my chest and waited for my captor to respond. For some reason, he didn’t look the least bit worried.
“I trust the king received my message?” Caden asked.
The man nodded. The officer’s mustache twitched as he glared down his nose at me. “Who is this?”
The fecker shoved between my shoulder blades, sending me stumbling forward. “Rían O’Clereigh.”
The man’s brows arched. The soldiers at his back shifted and exchanged glances. Nice to know they’d heard of me all the way on this forsaken island.
“You’re certain this is him?” the officer asked in his stuffy accent.
“Would I lie to you?”