Save me. Not a single undead touches me.
I stand there, taking in the scene with a ferocity that shakes away my fatigue. I can’t save them. A snapped neck is all it takes to end them. I know it. My hand grips the hilt of my rapier so tightly I feel my bones grind together. I keep my weapons, but I don’t move, except for my eyes, scanning the surrounding trees for him.
My heart beats a feverish rhythm, and I swear I go cold all over, aside from that small little bit of warmth that wriggles within my chest.
I keep my gaze away from the tent, lest anyone think to check for more bodies that may be hiding. Though if we all die and only little Roslyn is left to survive, can she really last long on her own in these temperatures? With a people who attack first and ask questions later and an undead army on the horizon?
I shake that horrifying thought from my mind and keep my gaze alert.
He doesn’t keep me waiting long.
Threydan strides through the trees, his eyes already on mine, as if he’d been watching me for some time. My stomach turns over at the thought.
How has the man not found a shirt yet? His tanned skin is smooth all over, except for that short cropping of hair atop his head. His eyes blaze brighter than ever, and a bit of blood is dried on his skin.
I don’t want to know whose it is.
He comes to a stop when he is a mere five feet from me.
A step closer, and I’d have gutted him. I still might, depending on his next move.
The lives of my crew are what stay my hand for now.
“Sorinda,” Threydan says. “Are you well?”
The question is so unexpected and jarring that a breathy laugh bordering on hysteria comes from my lips.
I say, “I’m pissed. You’ve attacked my crew without cause.”
“Attacked? No. Not a one of them has been hurt, including the little one in the tent.”
I swallow.
“I wouldn’t hurt your friends,” he says. “In fact, I helped you save one just a few hours ago, did I not?”
“Let them go if you mean them no harm.”
“Now that is something I cannot do until we have a proper chat.”
I say nothing.
He seems to find that amusing. “We did not finish the binding.”
“You’re not touching me again,” I spit out with every bit of venom I can manage.
I hear a few outbursts from some of the crew, as though they’re trying to agree with me, but most are silenced by undead hands covering their mouths.
“That, fortunately, is not true,” Threydan says. “We must if we’re to complete the binding. You are only partly mine. Resistant to only some of life’s dangers, it would seem. Hot and cold cannot harm you. Water cannot drown you. But the blade is still your weakness.”
“Reverse it,” I breathe out. “Make me able to feel again.”
“I cannot do that.”
“Cannot or will not?”
He hesitates a beat before saying, “Cannot.”
I don’t know if I can believe him, but my desire to return to myself is too great to trust his words.
“Find some other woman to make immortal. I don’t want your gifts.”
“Yet you have them, and they have already saved your life once.”
I say nothing to that. It is true, but I would have rather died than woken up chained to the ocean floor.
Threydan cranes his neck to the side as he observes my crew in their various forms of restraint. “Come with me, Sorinda. I wish for us to speak in private. Let me take you to my home.”
“Like hell she will,” Kearan says from somewhere buried among the undead.
Threydan steps in his direction, looking for the one who spoke.
Fool is going to get himself killed. I say, “If I come with you, you will leave them unharmed. That is the deal, right?”
The King of the Undersea turns back to face me. “That is the deal.”
“How can I trust you?”
“You cannot afford otherwise, my love.”
My nostrils flare at those words, but even I can see when I’ve been outmaneuvered.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“I followed you.”
“Impossible. No one is able to tail me without my notice.”
“Perhaps that is true among the living.”
I realize all too quickly what happened. I was followed. By one of the undead. A body that doesn’t need to breathe or move naturally. Something I never would have thought to keep a lookout for.
So he can’t sense me, then. That’s fortunate at least.
“Come now, Sorinda. I saved you from those people who wanted you dead. All these”—he gestures to the undead bodies holding my crew hostage—“were made in your honor.”
“They only wanted me dead because of what you made me.”
“That’s not entirely true. You woke me. They wanted you dead for that, too.”
I want to scream that it’s not my fault, but perhaps it is. Death has always followed me. I have always been its cause. From the time I was five years old. It is my calling and my curse.
Literally, it would seem.
I find myself with the abhorrent desire to cry.
I crack my neck to either side. “Have your dead minions release my crew, and I will follow you from this campsite.”
Protests rise up from my crew, including Kearan’s loud “Sorinda, no!”
“You have loyal followers,” Threydan says. “I’m not surprised, but I don’t know that I can trust them. You will follow me, and my minions, as you call them, will follow thereafter.”
“So they can murder the crew the second I’m out of sight? I don’t think so.”
“Can you promise me your crew will not fight or follow when we leave?”
I keep my face clear as I look into the eyes of my crew one by one. “You will not follow. You will not fight. That is an order.”
“No!”
One shout is louder than all the rest as little Roslyn finally leaves the tent. She’s bundled in Dimella’s coat and boots, the rapier I gifted her unsheathed and ready to skewer Threydan.
“You can’t take her,” Roslyn says. “I won’t let you.”
“Roslyn,” I bite out in my most forceful voice. “Get back in the tent now!”
“She’s too good to go with you,” Roslyn continues. “She keeps us safe and has an important mission here that you cannot stop. If you need someone to go with you, take me instead. I’m not even supposed to be here. I disobeyed orders. Bad things keep happening, and it’s all my fault. I deserve to die, not her.”
Threydan turns to where Roslyn stands and kneels to her level. I take a step forward and raise my sword, but Threydan doesn’t move. Doesn’t even care that he’s turned his back to me.
“You would die for her?” he asks.
“Yes,” Roslyn answers without question.
Threydan ruffles the hair on her head, and I take the final step to reach him. He stands and turns to me before I can slice him.
“That won’t be necessary,” Threydan says, answering both Roslyn and my threat of violence. “No one is dying. Not Sorinda. Not you. Not the crew. The Drifta needed to be taught a lesson for threatening my plans and my beloved. But I am not here to hurt any of you. In fact, I’m here to help. Once Sorinda agrees to be mine for all eternity, I will personally find your missing crew. Then I will sail you all home on my way to finding the siren charm that cursed me. Sorinda?” Threydan holds his hand out to me, palm up. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable to talk.”