Because though her sisters hadn’t come, they would.
Despite her current captivity, it would take more than this to break Niya and, more importantly, Niya’s faith in her sisters.
They would come.
And once reunited, they’d send more than a few new souls to the Fade.
CHAPTER NINE
Niya awoke to the sound of boots shuffling into her cell. Rough hands lifted her by her arms and hauled her up two flights of stairs. The air grew fresher with each of their strides, before she was deposited with an oof onto a hard floor.
“Cut her legs loose, but keep her arms and hands chained down,” came Alōs’s deep command.
“You sure, Cap’n?” asked a gruff voice. “She’s a crazy sort of bird, she is. Better to stuff or eat her lot than keep ’em as pets.”
Niya spat on the boots she sensed in front of her.
“OY!”
Niya’s face whipped back with the hit, the side of her mouth burning as the taste of blood blossomed along her tongue. Alōs barked an order for his man to stand down. “Her spit is the cleanest thing on you, Burlz. Now do as I say.”
With a muttered grumble, Niya’s wrists were tugged and bolted down behind her, to an anchor on the floor, before her legs were freed. She held in a cry as blood rushed painfully back into them and she was forced to kneel. Still blindfolded, all Niya could concentrate on was the agony lacing through her body, her muscles having been twisted awkwardly for too long.
Water was roughly poured into her mouth, and she gulped and spluttered greedily, the liquid warm as it ran down the front of her shirt.
With a tug, her blindfold was pulled away, and Niya squinted at her new surroundings.
She was in the captain’s quarters. Moonlight streamed in through a large paned window at her back. Standing candelabras lit the dim space, sending flickers of warmth along the bookshelves. Kintra and the man whom she now assumed was Burlz, the oily oaf whom she had fought with on deck, stood by one of the two closed doors in the room.
Niya knelt beside a large mahogany desk, Alōs peering down at her like some dark wildcat from his chair. “Two of my men are covered in stitches,” he began. “Three others are still in the infirmary with severe burns from your tantrum yesterday.”
“Is that all?” Niya attempted to sound bored.
“You will pay for your actions.” Alōs’s gaze was steady. “And I fear the sentencing will be decided by my crew.”
Niya glanced to Burlz, taking in his grin and the way his black eyes promised pain.
Try me, she wanted to snarl in return. His slap would not go unpunished.
“I vote they throw me overboard,” suggested Niya. “Anything to get me off this bloody ship.”
“It is too bad you feel that way,” replied Alōs coolly. “For that will make your next year here rather uncomfortable.”
“I will return whatever discomfort I suffer tenfold,” ground out Niya, pulling against her binds, the shackles straining against her wrist.
“You should really work on not always putting up a fight,” said Alōs, leaning into his chair. “Your life would be much more enjoyable if you did. Take mine, for example. I get most of what I want with barely lifting a finger.”
“Then you won’t miss them when I cut them from your hand.”
Alōs arched one dark brow. “Despite appearances, they’ll be happy to see you’re much the same.”
“Who?”
“The Mousai, of course.” Alōs grinned. “They’ve arrived.”
Niya blinked, confused for a moment.
And then—
A BOOM shook the room, sending books tumbling from their shelves and the candelabras swaying. Niya steadied herself on her knees as a high-pitched note pulsed through the floorboards from above—more heavy objects hit the deck overhead.
By the Obasi Sea. Her magic erupted through her with her burst of adrenaline. My sisters, they are here!
Niya smiled, wide and sharp. “None of your crew will survive their wrath.”
“Kintra,” Alōs said to his quartermaster. “Let our guests know where we keep what they seek before there’s no longer a ship for them to search.”
Kintra quickly exited through the door she guarded.
“Burlz,” commanded Alōs. “I’m sure you’d like to do the honors.”
The large man held vengeance in his eyes as he removed a piece of cloth from his trouser pocket, stepping toward Niya.
“I’m sorry to have to do this,” Alōs explained, gaze holding no empathy, “but I can’t have you interrupting our negotiations.”
Niya tried shifting away from Burlz, but chained to a floor, she didn’t get far. The pirate tightly cinched the cloth into a gag between her lips, making her wince. “Just a preview of what I’ll be doing to ya later, sweetheart,” whispered Burlz, his oniony breath causing her eyes to water. With his threat, Niya’s magic wrestled along her skin, and she snapped forward with a muffled growl.
Burlz smiled as he retreated to the wall.
You’ll be the first sent to the Fade, thought Niya.
There were more shouts from above, a smashing of barrels, before all fell silent.
Only the hissing of grains through a silver sandglass on Alōs’s desk could be heard.
Niya’s gaze swung to the closed door.
Her heart was beating like stampeding beasts, and she attempted to settle herself, to calm the chaos of the past few days that kept her magic a tumbled mess in her veins. She needed her focus. She needed it so she could find the movements that belonged to them. Her sisters were here. Her sisters were finally here. And she homed in on that thought, that security.
Closing her eyes, Niya breathed deeply, settling the buzz vibrating through her. She could feel through walls better that way, sense what was beyond. Even as weak as she was, she managed a light search, pulling energy from the movement on deck to stretch out her magic. It crawled out from her skin like mist, rolled along the floor, and slipped under the door, hitting up against every object that moved and swayed—a net holding boxes, the heavy shuffling of feet—until . . .
There, the familiar spice of energy, the delicate movements of limbs, swishing robes. Energy she knew.
“Fascinating,” she heard Alōs say beside her, but she ignored him, ignored that he could see the orange and red trails of her magic flowing from her, searching his ship. Ignored whatever sort of power that might give him through understanding more of her abilities.
All Niya cared about were the footsteps getting closer, and then . . .
Niya’s eyes flew open as the door did. Kintra walked in, followed by figures wearing black hooded robes and expressionless gold masks. Two tall, one short. They swept into the middle of the room like smoke, taking up the entire space. Their magic was charged, pulsing, ancient, and catastrophic in that it was a grain’s fall away from being set loose. It hummed its rage.
Let us show you how we greet our enemies.
Niya had never seen the Mousai from this vantage point, given that she was usually in the shorter imposter’s place, but she delighted in how terrifying they seemed. Niya met the gazes of the two taller Mousai—Larkyra and Arabessa, her sisters.
Something in her chest lurched. How good it was to see them. How devastated she was for when they would find out what she had done.
As she watched her sisters’ eyes roam her extremely disheveled form, a darker intensity of their magic expanded around them like storm clouds rolling in.
The door to their chamber slammed shut, bolt locking with a click. The candelabras’ lights dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally.
Oh yes, thought Niya. Her sisters were furious.
Good, hissed her magic.
Yes, agreed Niya. Here lies my revenge.
Alōs remained seated, hands folded over his chest in repose, as the Mousai swung their attention back to him.
“There was already a bounty on your head, Lord Ezra,” spoke the middle Mousai, whom Niya kn
ew by her voice was Arabessa. “But kidnapping a favorite court guest of the Thief King does not bode well for any mercy he may have granted.”
“Mercy?” Alōs’s brows rose. “Is the king getting soft in his old age?”
A shriek flew from the other Mousai—Larkyra—and with a single note, she sent a standing candelabra crashing through a windowpane behind the pirate.
Alōs pushed back a lock of dark hair that had been blown into his face. “If you didn’t like the decor, I could have had those removed a different way.”
“Our orders are clear, pirate,” boomed Arabessa. “Retrieve this lady and bring you to the Thief King. If you don’t wish to come, we kill you here. Those are your options.”
“That is clear.” Alōs steepled his fingers as he leaned farther back. “But before you do either, could you answer me this? Was it easy to replace her so fast?” He peered directly at the shorter Mousai.
It was a nonsense question to any but those who knew, which made it perfect. Here was Alōs Ezra, the reptile who need not grow hands, for he got what he wanted without lifting a finger. A snake.
The Mousai remained silent, but Niya could feel the energy shift, the new tension in her two sisters’ shoulders. This was the moment when her foolishness cursed her family. I’m so sorry! she wanted to yell. I’m so sorry! All she managed was a moan through her gag.
Larkyra’s gaze momentarily flashed to her, questions lingering.
“I see I may have granted myself a third option?” queried Alōs. “Shall we have a private conversation?”
The door behind the Mousai unlocked and swung open—their answer.
Alōs glanced a silent command to Kintra and Burlz: Leave.
Dutifully they turned and strode from the room, closing the door again behind them.
Taking a sip from a goblet on his desk, Alōs waved a hand, sending a cool green veil of his magic to settle along the walls, coating the new hole in his window. “Now we may speak in confidence.”
“And what secrets do you wish to share that will have us spare your life?” the disguised Larkyra asked.
“My secrets are in fact your secrets. But a trade can make me forget them.”
“Speak plainly, Lord Ezra.”
“In so many words, I find it fascinating that there are three of you standing before me, when one of the Mousai kneels by my feet.” He gestured toward Niya beside his desk.
Her entire world cracked open. Unable to bring herself to look at her sisters, she concentrated on a spot on the floor. Coward, she thought, hating what might come next. What will they do? What will they say?
The silence was thick as Niya’s heart continued to break, over and over and over, waiting.
“That’s right.” Alōs finally spoke again. “Your beloved Niya exposed who the Mousai truly are, and I must say, it’s my great pleasure to finally officially meet the Bassettes.”
Betrayal betrayal betrayal. The word rang harsh in Niya’s ears as she felt the knife-sharp gazes of her sisters.
She winced where she knelt, still unable to look up despite how their magic smacked against her with their shock.
How? Why?
Both questions Niya had tormented herself with for years. How could she have allowed herself to be lured, seduced, her own powers used against her? For what? To feel wanted, that extra spark of reckless excitement?
Pathetic.
There was a flurry of movement as the shortest Mousai threw off their robe and removed their mask. Their form grew a great deal taller than any in the room. A man stood before them, wrapped in purple silk pants and an intricate pearl-studded choker that fanned out over his bare chest. His black skin shone like a moonless night against his thick beard, his violet eyes gleaming.
Achak—one of the most ancient beings this side of the Fade—was here. They were a creature whose history was woven into that of the Thief Kingdom. And just like Alōs, they never donned a disguise while there.
When everything feared you, there was nothing to fear.
“How clever you have proved yourself, Alōs,” said Achak, his voice starting deep before lilting into a higher register. In the next breath his figure rippled, arms and shoulders shrinking to become those of a woman. For Achak was in fact a brother and sister, two souls wrestling back and forth for space in one body. They shape-shifted from one to the other whenever one desired to speak, often dizzying present company. No one knew their exact origin, but thankfully they had been a friend and teacher to the Mousai since they’d first come into their gifts. Thankfully, because to be a foe of Achak meant one rarely lived long enough to attempt becoming friends. Achak was powerful, erratic, and, above all, the guardian to the entrance of the Fade.
“Clever.” The sister echoed her brother’s words, adjusting a silver band wrapping her forearm. “But still rather predictable.”
“Well,” began Alōs, “no one can be as unpredictable as you, my dear Achak. I’m glad to see the Thief King let you out of your floating cage.”
Achak grinned, white teeth flashing, and quickly changed back into her brother. “Child, don’t you know goading only works on the weak minded? Now tell us your demands so we can all be on our way. It smells of feces in here.”
“That’s probably her.” Alōs pointed to Niya.
Niya stared death toward the pirate, fury heating her heart.
“This is ridiculous,” said Larkyra, removing her mask next and pushing down her hood to reveal her delicate features. “The only demands are that we’ll be taking our sister before or after taking your life. You choose.”
Relief washed through Niya. Larkyra had called her sister, not dead-to-me sister or wretched creature or spineless mole.
Could it be that they would forgive her this treachery?
“Nice to finally see your beautiful face, Larkyra. And may I extend my congratulations on your recent nuptials.” Alōs played idly with the ring on his pinkie, still exuding control. “As for killing me, Niya had similar plans, but as Achak probably already knows and you ladies should learn, I have contingencies to all plans.”
“Very well.” Arabessa was the final one to remove her disguise. Her inky-black hair was twisted into a high bun, her angular beauty another severe mask as she stared down the pirate. “Tell us why we should still be listening to you.”
“If you kill me, the secret I know of the Bassettes’ connection with the Mousai is hidden around Aadilor waiting to be revealed. But I can destroy all knowledge for a trade.”
“You bluff.” Arabessa eyed the man.
“I could be. The question is, Can you live with the risk of finding out?”
Risks, bets, wagers. All of Niya’s vices playing out before her eyes, and her family had to pay the price.
If we get out of here, she thought, I swear by the lost gods I’ll never bet on anything again.
“What is your bargain, then?” asked Arabessa.
“I’ll sign over my silence, ensuring destruction of the memory stones that hold all I know of the Mousai, and will release your sister with no fight, if the Thief King removes his charges from me and my crew.”
“No!” groaned Niya against her gag, wrestling with the shackles pinning her arms back. “It’s a trick!” Alōs might destroy the memory stones and remove her chains, but she’d still be obligated to serve him for a year. Such a trade would not remove their binding bet. Her sisters had to understand this! They had to figure out another way to ensure her true freedom.
“That is a heavy trade,” said Arabessa, ignoring Niya’s struggles. “A favor to us from the Thief King as well as a pardon to you.”
“I have faith that he will see the importance of one to allow the other.”
“It seems your faith might be misplaced. The king does not take threats lightly, nor does he bend to any other’s will. You might find all four of us outcasts in the end or, more likely, new residents of the Fade.”
“Perhaps, but I’m willing to roll that die.”
“Do y
ou really value your life so little?” challenged Arabessa.
“Quite the opposite. I merely have more to gain than lose at the moment.”
“Are you sure that’s true, Lord Ezra?” asked Achak, seeming to say a great deal more than what was spoken.
Niya took note of how Alōs’s gaze narrowed.
“Do we have a deal or not?” he asked.
The room hung suspended, a free fall from a high cliff, as her sisters both turned, looking at Niya. The weight of their stares slammed a new dagger into her heart. Larkyra was frowning, pain rimming her eyes, obviously wishing to do a thousand things. Arabessa, however, remained poised as ever; nothing in her features revealed how she truly felt seeing her younger sister tied and mangled on the floor. Niya didn’t know whose expression was worse.
“Achak,” said Arabessa, attention remaining locked on Niya, “do you have a Secret Sealer?”
“Always travel with one.” Achak pulled out a small, intricately carved silver cylinder from their trouser pocket.
“But what of the pardon?” asked Larkyra.
“As it turns out, the king gave me one of those before we left.”
A room of surprised eyes turned to Achak; even Alōs’s dark brows lifted.
“Children, need I remind you he’s the Thief King, of the Thief Kingdom?” explained Achak. “If he can’t predict the mind of swindlers and crooks, who can?” With a snap of their fingers, a small glowing amber cube appeared, hovering above the palm of Achak’s hand—a king’s pardon.
Niya watched Alōs’s hungry gaze devour the object. Something so small that meant so much.
“So we have a trade?” asked Larkyra.
“It appears we do,” said Alōs, grinning.
Wait! No! Niya thrashed further. She pulled and pulled and pulled against her chains, the wood floorboards creaking under the force. Her sisters only needed to glance at the mark around her wrist; then they would know, but there was a reason Alōs had bound her arms so tightly behind her back. The bastard!
“By the lost gods.” Larkyra moved toward Niya’s struggles. “This is insufferable.”
Alōs quickly stepped from behind his desk, blocking her way. “She will be all yours once it’s official.”
Dance of a Burning Sea Page 9
