I pressed my temple into the tree, jaw clenched as I braced for whatever came next.
He stepped around me, knife in hand. My destroyed dress yanked back as he slashed the neckline—then ripped the satin down the center of my spine, baring my back to the wind.
I shivered—then went still as I felt the tip of a blade slice into my skin. He dragged the knife down, carving a shallow line into my flesh.
My arms flexed, hands in numb fists as the slow bite of steel sank into me. Warm liquid pooled into the hollow of my back. I gave a low, wild laugh, leaning into the reverberation of my chest against the tree as the quiet sound escaped my mouth.
Kriska had been so intent on keeping me unharmed on the ship.Whole and intact, the letter had said. This was only a thin cut down the length of my shoulder blade. It might not evenscar, if he didn’t carve deeper than the dermal layer. My Naiad skin healed fast enough.
The hot slice of it forced my teeth and knees to lock. But I was already trapped in waves of pain. I could handle a bit more. I exhaled, rigid and deep, as he made a second incision parallel to the first. He kept his knife calm. Smooth. Blood dripped between my legs, sending the scent of iron and rust in the air. He made a third cut across, as superficial as the first two, connecting the two long lines at the top.
This was how he intended to lure Kye out?Thiswas his idea of torture?
He could carve his moon-forsaken knife all across my body and I wouldn’t make a sound. Breath shallow, I angled my chin to glance at him over my shoulder, one eye closed against the hard bark. “Drawing a pretty picture?” I panted, my pride at containing any noise sending me on a high that was likely aided by the shaking, sweaty chills which had set into the back of my neck and forehead. “One more at the bottom and you’ll make a square.”
“Malá ryba,” Kriska tsked. “You should have screamed.”
I could see him, just barely, studying the trees. I scoffed, leaning into the ash wood. My other eye closed, and I began drifting off again.
His fingers wedged into the groove of the third cut. It stung as he spread it wide enough for his knife to gain leverage.
My eyes snapped open as I finally realized what was about to happen.
And there was no time to prepare myself before he began to skin me.
It wasn’t pain.
Pain was reserved for cuts and bruises.
It was rage.
Ragepeeled my skin from my body in slow precision. Searing, red-hot molten glass crept down my back one knife stroke at a time. The scent of blood bloomed around me, the taste of iron an assault on my tongue.
I lost my legs. I couldn’t feel them, nor the ground under my feet, the bark against my cheek. There was nothing but agony. And the world extinguished by it. A scream lit inside me that I couldn’t silence. My throat tore open at my own cry, and somewhere inside, I ordered myself to stop—but my body refused to listen. My body had left me, or I had left it, chased by the razored inferno that swept down my back in a single thin strip.
Kriska stopped halfway, leaving raw skin to hang from my back, and stepped into my side to evaluate his handiwork. I sagged against the tree, limp and panting, reining my own breath into quiet, furious sobs. My hair plastered to my forehead with sweat. I opened my eyes, my vision awash with tears. The world rocked, darkness flaring from the edges of my vision.
Through the trees and rushing water came the steady thrum of hoof beats.
They rumbled under my feet, a steady vibration all the way to my chest, rattling over my bones.
I’ll come for you.
I exhaled into the ash wood, long and ragged.
Kriska tilted his head toward the sound. He made a motion over his shoulder, signaling to Burian and Demyan, still hidden in the trees. Then squared off in the middle of the trail, hand ready at the pommel of his sword.
“It’s a trap,” I tried to say. “It’s a trap.”
The hooves drew closer, and I recognized Kolibri’s shrill neigh across the canyon air. Boots hit the dirt, followed by the metallic sigh of a blade unsheathed.
Face hard against the tree, I couldn't turn my head far enough to see.
“Untie her,” Kye said. A storm of heated metal followed him like a growing fog, violent whispers in my nose and throat, so potent it almost burned. “And I’ll make it quick.”
31
Maren
