Tempest.
The enigmatic oceanic pirate queen is nearby, but her energy is different. It’sincensed. She feels like what I imagine ahurricane would if it had emotions. “Tempest is coming,” I say to Ritter without even looking at him as I stare in the direction that she should appear in.
He bites back so much that he wants to sling my way, but clearly thinks better of it.
We’re all ready for slaughter.
Tempest storms up the path, her dark eyes wide and scanning the area. The cutlasses of at least two dozen pirates glint at their hips as they follow behind her, but her fury outshines every blade. “Why do I have people telling meMiserywas here?” she barks out, lowering her head to block out the sun rather than squint when she faces us. “And you’re all juststandinghere.”
“Maybe some conversations are best had in private,” I suggest.
“Then get your asses in one of these shanties,now,” she demands, motioning to any of them. “Just Ritter and Soren.”
Ritter and I exchange looks, because Tempest scolding someone is more like being flayed alive by her words, and we’re both already pissed off as it is. I pick the closest door to me, feeling no one inside, and enter it. The warm breeze of the ocean enters through an open window; such a contrast to the cold shore of Skull’s Row.
We’re far from home.
Tempest enters, her gaze flicking between us with lethal precision. “If Misery had access to my island and I didn’t even know about it,someoneis going to die.”
“Then start digging a grave, because that’s what happened,” I reply, my mouth unable to shut the fuck up.
She gives a slow, languid blink, her eyes rolling under her lids to look at me, before she tilts her head. “This isn’t Skull’s Row, boy. I can flay your skin and make a rug out of you, and none of your men could stop me.”
Boy? What is she, ten years my senior? Same age as Basilisk?
Everything in me tells me to be as succinct as possible with her, as if I have limited time to convince her not to kill me. “Misery is, apparently, my deity—” that doesn’t seem to surprise her, not even a flicker of interest inside of her “—which means when I tried to follow Jane, the jungle made it impossible for me to stay. Basilisk has a shadow cat?—”
“—yes, she visited me frequently,” Tempest interjects, her hand slicing the air dismissively, as though this information bores her, and she wants me to get to the point.
“—and the feline saw what happened,” I say, trying to maintain my composure. “Misery and Blackwell, along with their henchmen, took Jane and Anya on a longboat, both of them incapacitated. Basilisk claims they’re heading to Ashfire?—”
“RASMUS! Get in here!”
How the fuck does she know his name?
Basilisk enters, glaring hard at Tempest, who is the shortest in the space, and yet she seems to somehow tower over us with her energy.
“I have a reputation that no one says my name,” Basilisk warns through tight lips, his eyes livid as his forefinger moves between us. “So stopfuckingusing it. If I kill any of you, I don’t get my harpy killer, and I’m not leaving without it.”
I swear one of Tempest’s eyes twitches. “I don’t give a fuck about harpies. What Icareabout is that I just heard they’re going to Ashfire, and you know this how?”
My gaze drops to the mask at her hip, trying to cling toanythingthat might aid us here. But the connection between us feels useless, especially as her mask sits and waits. Just like mine.
The Council of Zenith feels entirely fractured now.
“When Jasmine saw they took her, there were a few with the fire emblem on their armor. I am piecing the puzzles together in my assumption.”
I face Tempest, knowing I need her good side. “We will need ships. I don’t know what the plan is, but we will needsomethingto get there.”
“You want to use my ships to storm Ashfire?” she asks, like we’re beggars asking for a crown. As ifno onewould dare suggest such a thing.
Ritter leans forward, and all I can feel from him is a desire to cut every ounce of fat from this conversation so he can focus on Jane. “Aye. Misery took Jane. If we don’t go for Misery, he will fuck over the entirety of the Balar Coasts. You know this.”
I glare at her to try and read her to the best of my ability. Tempest looks at me, as if she couldfeelthat. “You’re always trying to rip people’s souls apart to read them better. What isyourtake on this?”
“Misery can’t have the Balar Coasts. You’ve heard of the Tormented Ages.”
“Aye. They were so long ago only the faintest scars remain of it,” she says, but some of her confidence is waning like a crack in her veneer. Tempest sighs once more, touching the wolf fangs around her neck. “I aided you all because I owedRitter. And I enjoyed fucking over Misery in the process. Butnow, he was on my lands, and I didn’t even know. None of that would have happened if it weren’t foryoulot.”
