“You’re a bloody pirate. You’ll do anything to get what you want.”
Caden looked right at me and smiled. “You’re right. I will.” He tugged down my shirt, exposing the scar over my chest before I could stop him.
Nodding, the soldier gestured for my chain.
Caden sneered down at the man’s hand. “Before I give him over, though, I do believe you owe me a pardon.”
Where’d he get off, exchanging my life for a pardon? I’d make him rue the day he ever crossed paths with me.
The soldier handed a rolled up piece of parchment to Merriweather, and that was that. The officer became the proud new owner of my chain, and we were off, traipsing down a swaying wooden plank to a steady dock.
I would’ve dropped to my knees and kissed the ground if it hadn’t been Vellanian soil.
The sweaty men bustling in the port paid us no attention as they loaded and unloaded vessels and peddled fish and rum. The guards walked me like a dog on a lead all the way to an arched gate before stopping next to a covered wagon with windows encased by iron bars.
The officer handed my chains to another before pulling parchment from inside his red crushed velvet coat with gold tassels. I looked fabulous in red. Maybe I’d grab one before returning to Airren. One never knew when a soldier’s uniform would come in handy.
“Rían O’Clereigh,” the officer said, far louder than necessary. I may have been half deaf in one ear, but I was still standing close enough to feel the man’s spittle splatter over my cheek.
“You are hereby under arrest by order of his majesty, King—”
“On what charge?”
He glowered at me before scanning the missive between his hands. “Multiple counts of premeditated murder and inciting a rebellion.”
What rebellion? Where had they gotten that load of bollocks? Premeditated murder, certainly. But I refused to be held accountable for crimes I hadn’t committed.
One of the soldiers stepped forward with a black sack in his hand and shoved it over my head. No matter. I didn’t need to be able to see to kill them. I didn’t struggle as their hands dug into my arms and they lifted me into the wagon. What was the point when they were bringing me where I needed to go, albeit in a little less luxury than I preferred?
Somehow, the hood made the scents of the port even stronger, like the vile, fish-laced air had gotten trapped inside and refused to disperse. I ended up on the floor without so much as a feckin’ cushion for my arse. I may have been a prisoner, but I was also royalty. Vellanian pigs, the lot of them.
I felt every bump and knock but managed to bite back each curse.
The list of grievances I had for their king continued to mount when the hood was ripped away and I found myself at the entrance to a staircase cut into the base of a mountain. The peaks of the castle rose high above, but these stairs didn’t lead upward. No, they twisted down into the bowels of the earth to what I assumed was the dungeon.
A smoky haze clung to the narrow passages. Firelight from the torches flickered off the water and mold weeping down the stone walls. Iron chains dangled from brackets at varying heights.
While I appreciated the terrorizing effect the vast array of torture devices dripping with blood would likely have had on anyone else, to me it seemed sloppy. Honestly. How hard was it to clean a scythe?
And the rust on their iron maiden screamed laziness.
The leather straps on the chairs had been chewed through—likely by the rats slinking around in the shadows. They wouldn’t hold a feckin’ child in place, let alone a full-grown man. If they tried to strap me down, I’d snap the straps without breaking a sweat even with my iron bracelets.
Groaning men hung in cages from the ceiling, their bare skin covered in red welts and dried blood. I would have to remember to ask who made the cages. The spikes at the bottom were a nice touch. Unfortunately, the ceilings in our dungeon weren’t high enough. Maybe I could get one for the oubliette.
“I take it we’re not seeing the king today,” I murmured.
The soldier holding my chain laughed. “No, lad. Ye won’t be seein’ much of anythin’ once we’re through with ye.”
That wasn’t going to work with my schedule. Aveen would be worried sick, and I had too much shite back in Tearmann to deal with. I wasn’t above cutting off my own hands to get out of these manacles, but that seemed a little unnecessary considering there were only five soldiers.
I rolled my wrist and caught the chain in my hand. With a flick and a little finesse, I had the heavy chain wrapped around the closest man’s throat. He clawed and cursed, but it was hard to hear over the hissing of the metal melting my skin. I couldn’t wait to get these things off.
The man’s weight slumped. One down, four to go.
I stole his dagger and plunged it into the next man’s gut. He fell forward, clutching his torn abdomen as he landed next to his dead comrade. The other three had the good sense to look proper worried.
I loved this part, when they realized that even shackled in iron, I was stronger than all of them combined. “I don’t suppose any of you have the keys to these?” I held up my bleeding wrist, the skin beneath pink and bubbled and—was that bone? Lovely. No wonder it hurt so badly.