Melissa la Cruz - Frozen

They didn’t accept this revelation very well. A particularly ugly pirate sneered as he kicked open the door to Nat and Wes’s cell to find them sitting on the floor, weak from the cold. “All of you who were looking for the Blue—well—by tomorrow it will be just another occupied territory. Maybe they’ll call it Nuevo Asul.”

Nat raised her head in horror. “What do you mean?”

“Navy’s zeroed in on the location of the doorway. We’re shoving you lot off on the Ear’s ship so we can move faster; Jolly wants us travelin’ light so we can pick up any bounty. They owe us for the work we did,” he said, as he shined a flashlight into their irises and grunted his approval.

“He’s checking for frostblight—can’t sell us if we’re too far gone, can you?” Wes explained.

The pirate nodded. “Yeah, whaddaya know, the land of unicorns and honey’s real after all. Fresh air and food for everyone, right? As if.” He snorted, and left them to their cell.

The Blue.

Vallonis.

The military was on its way to the Blue, so that the RSA could take it as a territory, just another extension of its borders, imposing its will and dominion over the land.

Wes stared at Nat. “The stone . . . you’re not wearing the stone,” he said softly, the horror dawning on his face. “Why aren’t you wearing the stone?”

“Because I gave it away,” she said quietly.

“You what?”

“I gave Avo the stone.”

“But why?”

Nat shook her head. “Before the traders and the white priests came, Avo took me to his room.”

Wes gripped her forearms. “What did he do?”

“No . . . it wasn’t . . . that wasn’t what he wanted.”

She remembered the slaver’s smug smile.

Avo had put a hand on her collarbone, caressed her jaw. “Exquisite,” he had whispered. He was talking about the stone. She had unhooked the chain and given it to him without a fight.

“The voice in my head, it told me to do it.” She looked up at Wes, and there were tears in her eyes. “I tried to resist, but I couldn’t stop myself. I told you, I’m a monster. There’s something wrong with me, Wes. I gave it away. I gave away the stone.” Rage and ruin. Devastation. She was the catalyst, she was the key . . . What did she do? Had she given up hope? Had they turned her into something? Was this something they had programmed into her at MacArthur? But she couldn’t stop, had given up the stone as easily as a trinket, as if it were nothing. As if the Blue were nothing to her.

She sunk to her knees. “There isn’t any hope. Everything will be lost. Just as Liannan said.”

“Stop it! Let me think, okay? Just stop! Didn’t you hear what he said? They’re moving us.”

“Only to another cage,” she said bitterly.

Wes put a finger to his lips. “Hold on! Do you hear that? I think those are Alby ’s engines. They must have fixed the old bird. Listen, I think this is it. This is our chance. Remember what you told me? About never giving up hope? We can still work with this.”

“But how?”

“No one’s going to die, and they won’t take the Blue.” He smiled.

“You’re crazy,” she said. “Getting cocky again.”

“If I am, it’s because I’m betting on you.”

“OKAY,” WES SAID, SHAKING NAT AWAKE in the morning. “You know what to do?”

Nat blinked her eyes open. “Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“They’re dropping us off at the other ship.”

“And?”

“They’ll be distracted, everyone will be out of their cages, and they’ll want to dump us as quickly as possible, which means they’ll let down their guard, hustling us out. When we see an opportunity, we need to take it.”

Truly, it wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had. They had knocked out the strategy to the smallfolk as well. He only hoped that Shakes, Brendon, and Roark were still alive and on the Ear’s ship. He would need their help when it began. Wes felt better than he had in days; his color was high and he felt his blood pounding in his ears.

“You love this,” she said to him, watching him prepare for battle, as he wound strips of cloth around his fists.

“I won’t deny it.” He smiled. “We get out—and we beat them—or we die trying.”

“But if I can’t . . . ,” she said. So much of his plan hinged upon her ability to use her power and she wasn’t sure she would be able to. She didn’t trust herself—she had given away the stone—she was worse than a monster. She was a traitor to her own kind.

“You will. I know you will,” he said. “You won’t let me down.”

It was another miserable morning. Around noon, the prisoners were marched out of their cages and brought on the deck for another round of cruel amusements.

“You, boy,” the fat pirate with the worst mean streak said, singling out a small child from his family. “Come here.”

“Please no!” his mother cried. “No—take me instead—please!”

“Take ’em both,” another suggested.

“Why not?” the first one agreed. He looped a rope around each of their necks, making a noose. The other slavers brought out a bucket and a barrel for the mother and son to stand on. Then they tossed the other end of the ropes over one of the sails.

A skinny pirate with a chipped tooth pointed to the father, whose mark was shining on his cheek. “See if ye can save ’em both, eh?”

The fat pirate laughed. “See who ye love better.” Then he kicked both the bucket and the barrel and the wife and the boy were hoisted into the air, their legs kicking and their faces turning bright scarlet as they fought to breathe.

“Save him!” the mother gasped. “Save our son!”

The father of the boy held out his hand, so that his son floated higher than the rope around his neck, but the energy it required was killing him. And as he held his son from death, his wife began to lose consciousness, the noose cutting into her throat.

Nat buried her head in Wes’s shirt, stifling a scream. Wes trembled with fury as he held her close.

“Ear’s here—he’ll want them all alive! They’re no use to him dead!” a voice snarled; it was the first mate, and in quick succession both the boy and the mother were cut down from their gallows.

The boy lived, but the woman did not respond, and both father and son were weeping over her lifeless body.

“Get up, get up,” the fat pirate yelled, kicking at them. “Get ’em all out!” he screamed, ordering the rest of the prisoners lined up to board the Ear’s ship.

The Van Gogh pulled up next to the Titan ; the Ear’s crew amassed on its deck, awaiting its newest cargo. They had slaves on hand as well to help with the new prisoners. Wes was glad to see Shakes among the slaves. Alby was floating by the Van Gogh as well. They must have been using it as a scouting vessel, just as he had hoped. Maybe this plan would work after all. He caught Shakes’s eye and gave him a signal, the military code that meant “prepare for escape.”

Shakes flashed two fingers to indicate he’d received it.

Next to him, Nat squeezed his hand. “Remember our deal,” she said. I would rather die at your hands than at theirs.

He shook his head. “It won’t come to that.”

Nat looked over the row of prisoners waiting to board the Van Gogh, and spied Liannan’s sleek blond head among them. Wes had gone over the plan with her the night before as well. Liannan looked as beautiful as ever. Her eyes sparkled. She had seen Shakes on the other ship, alive.