At last, when the sailboat was almost out of sight and her tears had slackened, Serina turned to go.
Anika appeared at the edge of the trail, her bronze skin glistening with sweat.
“You let them take the boat, didn’t you?” she yelled. “Without a word, without a vote.”
Serina wiped at her face and tried to pull herself together. “I had to. I—”
“You should have told me,” Anika snapped, and it wasn’t anger that lined the words but desperation. “I could have gone too. My family, Serina. They need me.”
“I’m sorry, Anika,” Serina said, her heart aching anew. “I couldn’t risk saying anything. The Heir took the boat.… There are some soldiers who might still be loyal to him. He needed to return. We need him to return… if there’s any chance of breaking Viridia free from the new Superior’s rule.”
“Nomi is with him,” Anika said. “I could have gone too.”
“He needed Nomi’s help to sail the boat. But it’s small… too small for everyone who wanted to go back. I couldn’t tell you.… I couldn’t tell anyone. We made a promise, Anika,” Serina said, almost pleading now. “That we’d honor the vote.”
Anika stared at the horizon, her shoulders sagging. “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Serina said again, at a loss. “I still have hope that we can help your family. The people of Azura can help us. We fought for our freedom. We’ll find a way to fight for our families too. Maybe, once Malachi regains the throne, he’ll—”
Anika made a noise in her throat. “That ship has sailed. He owes us nothing now.” She turned back toward the path. “The women want to train more with the firearms. We’re nowhere near ready for the prison boat to arrive.” She didn’t wait for Serina to respond, turning on her heel and heading back down the path.
Serina hugged herself, a numb emptiness filling her. Anika was right. If Malachi was successful in regaining his throne, he’d be doing it with his own soldiers. All the promises—concessions—he’d made to the women of Mount Ruin would mean nothing.
Val lined up four girls at a time, with the half wall of a destroyed building as their target. Serina took her turn with the rest, but she hated the kick of the weapon in her hands, and the noise of it. She was happy to relinquish the firearm until it was her turn again.
Val helped with aim and showed everyone how to load the weapons. The boom and ding of bullets put Serina on edge.
“They’re terrible,” Anika said, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at the women training.
“We’re all new at this,” Serina reminded her. “It will take time. We’ll get there.”
“We don’t have time,” Anika replied. “A week at most.”
“That’s not our only problem,” Val said, approaching them. “There’s only so much ammunition… if we want to have enough to subdue the guards on the prison boat, we can only train like this once or twice more.”
“But no one is hitting the targets!” Anika exclaimed. Her words were punctuated by the percussion of gunfire.
“How many guns do we have?” Serina watched the women shooting. The concrete wall was quite pockmarked by now, but the circles Val had drawn on it had alarmingly few dings inside them. Maris hit the target a couple of times. Val was right—she was doing well.
“These four, plus forty or so more in the compound,” Val said. “But we’ve only got enough ammunition for three or four rounds if we use them all at once. Doesn’t leave much for training.”
Serina didn’t say anything for a moment. She pictured herself back on the cliff watching Nomi’s boat arrive, its steam engines slowing, the shriek as it ran along the concrete pier. The two guards jumped out. How many guards had there been when she herself arrived? Four or five on the boat? And then a couple on the dock to meet them.
“This doesn’t have to be a large battle,” she mused, playing it out in her mind. “There are four or five guards, and they’re expecting a couple of island guards to meet them. Right, Val?”
He nodded. “Four or five guards, plus two sailors. Six men, maybe as many as eight, if there are a lot of women to transport.”
“If there are no guards waiting on the pier when the boat docks, what would the men do?” Serina asked, trying to work through the possible scenarios.
Val scuffed his boot against the rough volcanic ground as he thought. “They’d disembark maybe, try to figure out what’s wrong.”
“So they wouldn’t assume they were under attack right away? They wouldn’t use the prisoners as shields or anything like that?” Serina waited while he considered. The day had turned hot and dry, the screaming winds blowing the sulfuric smoke of the volcano in their direction. It was giving her a headache.
“I don’t think so. Not at first, anyway,” he said at last.
“What are you getting at?” Anika asked.
“Well, we don’t have to plan for a war, do we?” Serina said. “And we can save our ammunition too. If we choose the ten best girls, the ones who’ve picked it up really quickly and won’t need as much practice to hone their aim, and we station them along the ridges above the pier, hidden where the boat guards can’t see them, we can pick off the guards as they wander the pier trying to figure out what happened.”
“Or I could go down to the pier like I did with Nomi’s boat. Play the part until we get the new girls out of sight, and then we could overwhelm the guards and lock them into cells.” Val glanced over at Serina.
She knew what he wanted. He saw himself in the men transporting the female prisoners; he wondered if there was one man, even just one, who ached for the women in pain. He wanted to save them, those hypothetical guards, just in case.
She took his hand. “We have hardly enough food for ourselves. We’ve already committed to releasing the surviving guards with any remaining supplies on the island and letting them fend for themselves, most likely sentencing them to a slow death by starvation. We can’t spare the boat guards, just to make them suffer the same fate. And there are so many more things that could go wrong.” She squeezed his hand. It wasn’t as if she reveled in the thought of killing anyone, even these men. “Remember, these guards will know the protocols. They’ll know something is wrong.”
Val sighed. “I know. I just hate picking them off, not giving them a chance to defend themselves.”
Anika made a derisive noise.
Serina could guess what the girl was thinking. But she merely said, “It’s safer this way. And it’ll save our ammunition. We should take the firearms with us to Azura. We don’t know for certain that they’re as friendly as you say… and if they are, the weapons may be useful to trade or sell.”
Val nodded reluctantly. “It’s a good plan. I’ll pay attention in the next round of training, try to pick out the girls with the most potential.”
Serina nodded.
The four markswomen were handing their firearms to the next women in line, when a ragged scream echoed through the clear afternoon air. Serina’s head snapped around.
“What was that?” she yelled, already moving toward the sound.
A handful of women ran up the path. Serina and Anika took off after them.
Another scream.
Serina pushed through the crowd. A woman lay on the path, arms and legs akimbo, her neck at an unnatural angle. Serina knelt beside her, panic coursing through her body. What had happened?
The woman’s eyes were still open but unseeing. Serina recognized her as one of the older women from Hotel Misery, who liked to wander just off the paths surrounding the hotel collecting any edible plants she could find.
“What happened?” Anika asked loudly, taking a spot next to Serina.
“Did anyone see what happened?” Anika yelled again when no one answered her.
Serina felt a sinking horror fill her chest. None of the other women would have done this, surely. What motive could they have? But there was no one else—
That wasn’t true. There were several people on the isl
and who would do this, if given the chance. Serina took off running toward the prison compound.
Her feet slammed onto the stairs, vaulting her up to the guards’ cells.
Three of the doors were ajar.
The remaining guards howled.
Doll lay on the ground, her arms limp, as if their marionette strings had been cut. Scorpion, Petrel’s killer, lay beside her. Their eyes stared upward, their necks an ugly purplish red.
TEN
NOMI
“TIGHTEN THE JIB—no, the other rope. Yes, that one.” Malachi’s endless commands sent Nomi scrambling across the small bow of the boat, and in a short time, she found herself half-wishing she could throw him overboard, just as those sailors had. But it wasn’t his fault she didn’t know what she was doing.
“The sail is flapping, you’ve got to—”
“I know!” She tightened the rope and collapsed onto the deck, cradling her blistered hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. This is all so new. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Malachi heaved himself up to a sitting position. “I would do it myself. Believe me, I wish I could. But that hike… it wore me out. I’m sorry—”
Nomi threw up her hands. “Please don’t apologize. That’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to be a help. But I can’t seem to do any of this properly.”
More gently, he said, “You’re doing fine.” He glanced up at the rigging, where the sail pulled taut. “See? We’ve got it now.”
She sagged forward, head in hands, and took a moment to breathe in the briny air. She liked the way it rushed through her hair—that meant they were moving forward.
To her surprise, she heard him chuckle.
“What?” she asked, looking up.
Malachi met her gaze steadily. A small smile played across his mouth, partially hidden by the scruff darkening his jaw. “I find it amusing that you expected this to be easy. Have you ever even been in a sailboat?”
A small bobbing sailboat surrounded by endless ocean. She swallowed. No. She had never been on a sailboat. “I didn’t expect it to be easy, exactly. I just… expected that I would be up to the task.”
“That’s not a sentiment I’ve ever heard from a woman.”
“That’s because it’s difficult to expect much of yourself when the rest of the world doesn’t bother,” Nomi returned, staring out at the waves curling toward them.
“I can see that,” Malachi said, surprising her again. “But you believe yourself capable of, well, just about anything as far as I can tell. Why?”
Nomi leaned back against the gunwale and sighed. She thought about his question for a moment. Why had she expected she could sail a boat? Or read?
“I think it’s because of Renzo,” she mused. “My brother and I are twins, and I saw him treated differently… saw him go to school, leave the house and play with the boys down the street, come home dusty and happy and free. He never needed an escort. He was permitted to speak his own mind. And yet, it wasn’t because he was bigger, or smarter, or older. I could do everything he could do. I just wasn’t allowed. I felt the injustice early and often.” She brushed her hair from her face. “That’s what I’ve always wanted. The chance to speak, to choose, to control my own future, like Renzo does.”
Malachi was silent. She didn’t look at him.
More confessions, inexplicably, found their way to her lips. “I was so angry. All the time.” Asa’s boyish grin rose to her mind, unbidden. “Your brother promised me a future where I would have power, where I could give some of that power to all the women of Viridia. For me, it was a seductive dream.”
“That’s why he used it,” Malachi said softly.
“I know that now,” she snapped. She was still angry. So angry. Angry at her naiveté. Angry at Asa’s betrayal. “I would kill him, I think. If I could.”
She glanced back at Malachi. Her words hadn’t shocked him. He held tightly to the tiller and stared at the boards of the deck, his brow furrowed.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” he said grimly.
Nomi hissed a startled breath.
“Can you tighten that rope over there?” Malachi pointed.
Nomi did as he asked, and the boat surged forward, wind filling the sail. Beyond the tip of the bow, land was coming into view as a smudge along the horizon.
“How long do you think it will take to get to Porto Rosa?” she asked.
“Three days, maybe four,” he replied. “We’ll stay near shore in case we need more provisions.”
Three days on a tiny boat in the boundless ocean. Alone, with him.
Nomi stared at the great dome of stars above her, her jaw slack. In Lanos, the haze of industry dulled the sky, and the palazzo was always lit with endless strings of lights. She’d never seen so many stars in her entire life, and so bright.
Lying on her back, tears trickled down the sides of her face, wetting her hair.
“Are you crying?” Malachi’s voice broke through the silence like a thunderclap.
“No. I was… The wind…” Nomi stuttered. She sat up and swiped at her face. She’d been lying on a scrap of blanket near the stern, Malachi a few feet behind her, propped against the hull with his hand on the tiller.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, more quietly. “Are you well?”
There were so many things Nomi could have been crying about. Leaving her sister, fear for her brother and parents. Heartache at the thought of Asa’s betrayal.
And she’d been crying over the beauty of the stars.
She couldn’t tell Malachi that.
“I’m fine,” she said, cursing the hoarseness of her voice. She cleared her throat.
The stars still pressed close, so close she imagined she could pluck one out of the sky, if only she stood up and reached.
“Since you’re awake, I could teach you how to steer,” Malachi offered.
Nomi scooted over to sit on the other side of the tiller, her own back pressed against the wooden hull. “So…”
“So.” He gestured that she should put her hand on the tiller.
Together they held on to the rough wood, their hands a few inches apart. Immediately, Nomi could feel the tension running through the handle. She followed the movements Malachi made, saw the sail tighten. The constant rush of water against the hull filled her ears. Running to their right, Viridia was a hulk of black that swallowed the stars.
“Keep her into the wind, like this,” Malachi said. “Slight adjustments, that’s all.”
Slowly, he removed his hand. Nomi tightened her grip as the tension in the tiller increased. She concentrated on keeping her hand steady.
Beside her, Malachi sighed and slumped back.
“You should have told me you were tired,” Nomi said. She watched the sail, waiting for the small shifts of wind that she’d have to adjust for.
“I’ve never been so tired in all my life,” he admitted.
“Rest,” Nomi said. “Your wounds are still healing.”
“Was that a command or a suggestion?” he asked, shooting her a glance.
For a split second, the familiar contrition swirled through Nomi, tightening her chest. But, with an effort, she forced it away. She wouldn’t apologize for being forthright. How would the world change if she didn’t make it change?
“It was the truth,” she said.
He let it go without commenting further. When he pulled a couple chunks of jerky from their bag of food, he offered one to her.
Nomi chewed at the tough meat and tried to keep the boat steady.
“Follow the wind,” Malachi said at one point. “If it takes you farther away from shore, or closer, follow it. Sailboats travel by zig and zag. It’s all about using the wind to our advantage.”
“It’s a shame that’s the only advantage we have,” Nomi muttered. That, and the ugly knife in her boot. But she hadn’t told Malachi about that.
“We have more advantages than you think,” he replied. In the starlight, the circle
s under his eyes looked like black holes, but his skin wasn’t quite so deathly pale as it had been. And Nomi could hear his steady, strong breathing. It echoed the pulse of water sluicing along the sides. “A boat, food. The element of surprise. My brother thinks I’m dead and you’re as good as. Once we’ve connected with Dante, we’ll head to Bellaqua with his regiment. Asa will not expect us.”
Nomi made a small adjustment with the tiller. A burning ache already captured her arm, but she held firm. Malachi needed the break.
“And,” he said, a new, hesitant tone creeping in, “we have each other. Surely that can be seen as a positive, in this case?”
“I hope so,” Nomi replied, but she couldn’t keep a certain grimness from her voice and expression. Malachi had done a fair job convincing her they were chasing the same goals. But she’d thought the same of Asa. She wasn’t ready to trust anything but her own hands, her own mind, and her own resources, limited as they were.
She held on tightly to the tiller and said nothing more. At some point, she glanced at Malachi and found him asleep, slumped on his side, his head pillowed by their burlap sacks.
She spent the rest of the night alone with the stars.
ELEVEN
SERINA
SERINA SCREAMED TO keep from sobbing. She’d told these girls they were safe. She’d promised them. Doll—Doll had come to the island the same day as Serina. She’d been in her crew. They’d shared meals together, her and Gia and Jacana. And now only Serina and Gia were left. Doll had died on Serina’s watch. This was on her.
The four remaining guards shouted and laughed at her, chaotic as jackals. In a haze, she noted the missing guards: Nero, the quiet one, and Hector, the one with rotting teeth who called all the girls flower. Diego, bald and big as a house, the one who’d grabbed her hair. Was that what he’d done to Scorpion, whose cloud of dark hair looked twisted and disheveled? Had he grabbed her, strangled her, made her open the cell? But he couldn’t have… none of the girls had the keys. Only Serina did. These guards got out some other way.
Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury) Page 8
