I stagger away from the railing as the beast’s jaws snap at me. Teeth with green algae at the base come for me over and over again. I roll backward to avoid them.
Somewhere a bell is ringing, and someone’s shouting for all hands on deck.
The creature pulls itself over the railing and flops onto the deck mere feet from me. Water puddles all around it as the ship groans and tilts slightly under the weight. The creature screeches, sending its jaws to either side, and rancid breath, like the rotting corpse of a beached whale, washes over me. I don’t have time to gag because a long tongue shoots out. Straight toward me.
A blade meets it in the air, knocking it away without so much as breaking the surface.
“You picked the wrong ship,” Hettie says. She tosses her hair back and readies for another attack. “I’ve been waiting for a fight like this.”
Her eyes sparkle dangerously, and a smile creeps across her face.
I scramble backward and get to my feet as men rush forward.
“Move out of the way, Hettie,” I call. I won’t let a sea beast get her any more than a metal man.
She doesn’t obey.
The beast turns, using its tail to send men flying in all directions. Hettie dives under the strike, trapping herself against the railing with the beast staring right at her.
She doesn’t seem to realize the danger. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.
“Come and get me,” she screams, throwing her arms wide. There’s a wildness in her eyes as she swings her sword again and again at the creature’s snout.
The beast snaps forward. Hettie deflects the blow, but it costs her. Her feet slip in the water, and she lands with a thud on her side, her sword clattering just out of reach.
The creature rears upward.
“Hettie!” Rhat screams. He rushes forward, aiming a knife at the beast’s exposed back. He drills the knife against the beast, but the blade only skims across the scales.
The creature uses one of its wings to knock Rhat away, and he flies into the deck.
Hettie lets out a strangled cry as she grabs her sword and climbs to her feet. She moves toward Rhat, but the monster’s claws squeeze around her arm, biting into her skin. She screams as the beast lifts her into the air and tosses her as if she weighs nothing at all.
My heart stops as her body soars straight into one of the sails. She slides down the fabric and lands unmoving on the deck.
“No,” I whisper, my heart skipping a beat.
The beast thrashes around, its one eye twitching back and forth like it’s searching for something. It lands on me sitting several lengths away, frozen in place, and slides forward.
As men rush to meet it, I crawl across the deck toward Hettie and flip her onto her back. She moans but doesn’t open her eyes as I cradle her head. Blood pours out of three deep lacerations on her arm. “Hettie,” I say over and over again.
“Is it dead?” she groans, cracking open her eyes.
Someone lets out a horrifying scream, answering her question.
I glance to where the creature has moved farther across the deck, its claws leaving deep grooves in the wood. Men encircle it on all sides. Royce shouts something about trying to aim between the scales. But the few men who aren’t swatted away by the tail or the wings have no more luck piercing its side than Rhat did.
Royce nearly misses being impaled by one of the spikes jutting out of the wing. He tries to drive his blade through the webbing, but the creature’s tail shoots around, knocking him off his feet.
He lands in a mixture of water and blood. Several bodies lie unmoving on the deck. I can’t bear to look too closely.
“Help me up,” Hettie snaps. She tries to get up but doesn’t make it more than a few inches. “I’m going to kill it. I’m going to show it—”
“Stay down,” I say. “You’re in no condition to help.”
Her face is ashen, and she winces with each movement as I prop her against the nearest mast. “Stay here,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
At least I hope I will.
I rush toward the fray, careful not to slip on the wet deck. Wood splinters as the creature digs its claws into the deck and swats at more men with its tail. Part of the railing is knocked into the water.
I pick up a sword that lays discarded on the deck and rush forward. I scan the men, looking for what I need. Royce is on the other side of the creature. I spot Phipps. He’ll do.
Before I can move toward him, Hettie’s voice echoes in my ears.
“Come and face me.”
She’s barely standing, having propped herself against the mast.
I half want to turn her to gold just to keep her out of the fight. But I don’t have time to even contemplate that because the creature flips around again. Its eye lands on me once more, and it scrambles toward me with renewed vigor, knocking men aside as it thrashes to get to me.
I backtrack, knowing my sword will have no effect.
“Phipps,” I call, not taking my eyes from where the creature approaches, “have a rope tied near the hole in the railing ready for me.”
“A rope?”
“I have a plan. Just have it ready.”
I don’t wait to see if he obeys. I whip around, hoping to dodge around the mast and lead the beast back toward the opening in the railing. But I’ve misjudged where I am on the ship. I run right into the main mast. I turn just in time to see the beast propel itself closer. Its jaws open wide.
They snap around me.
I suck in a breath, knowing the pain will start any moment.
Nothing happens.
I look down only to discover the monster’s jaws are stuck in the mast on either side of me. It fights to rip its teeth free from the wood, claws digging in above me and sending splinters down as it fights to liberate itself. I duck down through the jaws and rush back toward the rail opening, ripping off my gloves as I go.
Phipps is already positioned. He’s unwound some length of rope from a peg and has it puddled in his arms.
“Princess,” he cries.
Behind me, a wet thud signals the creature has freed itself. Each swish of its tail and plunk of its claws digging into the deck signal it’s getting closer and closer. And I need that rope in my hands before I can complete my plan.
“Phipps, the rope,” I yell as I race ahead. He holds out the end as I skid to a stop in front of him.
I grab it from his hands and wrap it around my arm as many times as I can.
“It’s coming,” Phipps screeches.
I turn. The beast is nearly on me. “Get down,” I shout. My hand crashes into the side of Phipps’s face, sending him spiraling to the deck.
“Kora!” Royce’s scream shatters through the night.
I ignore him and hold my ground as the creature leaps at me, jaws open wide.
Not yet.
Not yet.
When the beast is mere inches away, I let myself fall backward through the opening in the railing. I throw one hand up in the air, and it glides across the creature’s belly, instantly turning it to gold as the beast soars forward through the gap. The body splashes into the water, sinking into the depths at the same time I crash into the side of the ship.
I barely keep my grip on the rope. Again and again, my body bangs into the ship’s hull. I whip my other arm around to help distribute the weight.
“Kora.” Royce’s head appears over the side of the ship. Relief floods his features when he sees me hanging there. In an instant, the rope tugs upward, pulling me with it.
I land like a caught fish on the deck, and my whole side burns.
“Are you all right?” Royce asks.
I nod and force myself to my feet. “Where’s Hettie?”
Royce points toward the mast, and I head straight over.
Rhat is already there arguing with Hettie, telling her she needs to stay still. He forces her to sit on the deck. “We should get those cuts on her arm sewn up soon,” he says. “They’re bleeding a l
ot.”
“I can do it,” I say.
“I’ll carry her downstairs,” Rhat supplies.
“Why is everyone always talking about me like I’m not right here?” Hettie murmurs. She rolls her head to the side so she’s staring up at the three of us clustered around her. Dark circles have taken up residence under her eyes, and her hair is matted and limp.
“If you two can handle this,” Royce says, “I’m going to see to the other injured.”
We nod as he dashes off toward the nearest man lying on the deck.
Then another cry goes up.
“Lenny? Where’s Lenny?”
Phipps runs frantically across the deck. “Where’s Lenny? Bang on something, Lenny, if you can hear me.”
The ship stills for one heartbeat. Then two.
Suddenly, at the end of the ship, a pile of debris shifts. A pair of legs appear as the entire pile crashes to the side and Lenny appears.
“Oh, Lenny.” Phipps visibly relaxes and lets out a strangled laugh. His usual smile returns. But it’s more strained than it was before, showing just how much Thipps’s death has affected him. I know what he was imagining in those moments.
Lenny maneuvers himself from the pile to where Phipps stands with his hands still shaking. Lenny’s usual smile has been replaced with a scrunched brow as he looks up at his brother.
Phipps has his eyes tightly shut while his hands continue to tremble. Lenny takes one of those hands, unfurling the clenched fist so he can rest the palm on his own shoulder. Then he places his hand on Phipps’s shoulder.
Finally, Phipps opens his eyes, but tears dot the corners. “I’m concentrating on you,” Phipps says, his voice cracking. “I’m concentrating.”
Lenny takes an overly deep breath and moves his hand down toward Phipps’s chest, toward his lungs. His eyes stare intently at his brother.
“One deep breath in,” Phipps replies while sucking in air. “One deep breath out.” He clenches his eyes shut again. His chest rises and falls more softly. Eventually, his hands slip off Lenny’s shoulders, and he opens his eyes.
“I’m—I’m okay now.” He pulls his brother into a hug and gives him a kiss on the top of the head.
I turn back to Hettie, feeling I’ve intruded on something I wasn’t meant to see.
Before Hettie can protest, Rhat scoops her up and gently carries her downstairs. He cradles her like my father used to carry the roses he picked from the palace rose garden, the ones he grew in memory of my mother. I pray he lulls her to sleep. Otherwise, I’m in for a rough time sewing her arm up.
CHAPTER 10
Hettie doesn’t fall asleep.
She screams into my ear as I lean closer to start on the second cut.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I mutter. I slide the needle into her arm.
She inhales sharply and bites down on a cloth while sitting on the bed we share. She stomps her feet on the floor, rattling the cup of herbs Rhat supplied for the pain and to help her sleep. So far, it isn’t having any effect.
It would be easier if Rhat were here, but with so many injured, he is needed elsewhere.
Hettie takes deep inhales and exhales.
“At least it’s not your sword arm,” I supply.
She glares at me.
“Okay, okay.” I search for another topic to distract her with, but I don’t know what to say—and what might set her off.
“How are you doing?” I ask, eyes downcast, the scene of Lenny and Phipps playing out in my mind.
She sucks in a breath and clamps her eyes shut as I finish sealing up the wound. She rips the cloth from her mouth. “I have three large gashes. How do you think I’m doing?”
My needle pauses. “I meant after—after—”
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
“Hettie, if I could’ve saved your father—”
“I said I’m fine.”
I swallow down the rest of my words. How am I ever going to reconnect with her if she won’t let me mention what happened?
I pass the needle through the base of the third cut, the deepest one. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”
She bites back a cry. “I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. He’s gone. That’s all there is to it.”
“Hettie—”
“No, Kora.” Her words are slightly slurred. The herbs must be kicking in. “All that’s left to do now is to kill the one who caused all this. I’m going to kill Dionysus, no matter what. That’s all I have left. He took everything from me.”
I pull away from her. “You have Rhat, you have me, you have—”
“No.” Her words are more forceful. She sways, and I have to shoot out an arm to keep her upright. She flings my hand away drunkenly and jabs a finger into my chest. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. Even if your father had died back when you two weren’t speaking, you’d still be Lagonia’s princess. You’d still have a place there. I have nothing. I’m just the leftover daughter of the king’s traitorous brother.”
“Oh, Hettie,” I say. “You’ll always have a place at the palace with me.”
“Doing what?”
I stall. “You could be my advisor.”
Her face darkens. “I can’t do that. I can’t do what he did. I don’t need any more comparisons to him.”
“I wasn’t trying to compare you to him,” I say softly. “I’m trying to show that I trust your judgment.”
She scoffs, but it turns into a yawn. “The only thing I’m good at is fighting.” Her head swings to the side. She stares down at her injury. “At least, I used to be good at it. Not anymore.”
No wonder she was so reckless with the creature.
I take her hand. “Hettie, you’re a great fighter.”
“No, I’m not. I should’ve been able to kill that sea monster.” Her eyes shoot up, suddenly finding clarity. “How can I kill Dionysus if I can’t even kill his creatures?”
“It took all of us to defeat it,” I supply. “It’s okay to have help. We’re in this together.” I squeeze her hand.
She rips away. Her lips press together and her nostrils flare. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need any more of that. Just give me the needle and get out. I’ll finish the last cut myself.” She reaches shakily for the needle.
I hold it out of her reach.
She tilts forward to grab it, but instead passes out on the bed and starts to snore.
I sigh, rubbing my temples.
I adjust her body so she’s resting comfortably. Then I finish sewing up the final cut.
I shake my head and slip from the room. Even if I could sleep with the snoring, I need time to process everything Hettie threw at me.
I sink against the door once I close it. What could I have done to make her feel like she has a place at the palace? What can I still do? And will her need for revenge continue to cloud her judgment?
I rub my eyes with my palms.
It’s too much to figure out now.
Besides, I owe it to the men on board the ship to check on them.
The stairs creak as I make my way up to the main deck. All the blood has been washed away, and a rope is tied across the missing section of railing. Phipps sweeps the bits of broken wood out through the opening as Lenny mops around behind him.
Phipps gives me a small smile as I approach, all signs of his earlier breakdown gone. Except for how tightly he clings to the broom. His knuckles are white. And the tension around his eyes doesn’t seem to lessen either.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you when I pushed you to the ground,” I say.
He stops his sweeping and leans on the broom. “Just my coin purse,” he says, pointing to his ear. The same ear that hours before held a gold hoop earring. That jewelry is now a murky silver color.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I needed gold and didn’t have many options.”
“I’m not complaining,” he says. “You did save all our lives, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me.” A fami
liar gleam begins to grow in his eyes, but after witnessing what I did between him and Lenny, I wonder how much of it is real and how much is a front he’s putting up to hide his pain, to seem like his old rascally self.
Either way, I encourage it. “I’m sure I will.”
“I would’ve been happy with a gold sea monster. That thing was so heavy, it would’ve been worth a fortune.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “I didn’t know how much it would weigh once I turned it to gold. I was afraid it would sink us. That’s why I had to lead it off the ship.”
Phipps lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But next time you turn a sea monster to gold that’s not big enough to sink the ship, it’s all mine.”
“Deal,” I say.
“Although,” Phipps continues, “I have been thinking of other ways you could repay me right now.” His smile seems more genuine now, and his eyes not so tight.
“Go on,” I say, hoping his scheme is something I can actually agree to.
“I couldn’t help but notice your golden fingernails.” He stares at me expectantly, like I should’ve already worked out his angle.
I stare back blankly.
He sighs and throws up his arms like I’m an idiot for not knowing what he’s getting at. “Clearly they can’t be easy to cut. Gold is hard stuff, you know.” He takes my hand, drawing it to his chest. “I’m volunteering my services to help you cut your nails. Of course,” he says, “as my fee, I would simply keep the clippings.” He nods his head as though the movement will convince me to do the same.
I look down at his hand holding mine. His own nails are all broken and uneven. Not to mention the loads of dirt trapped under them. You’d think with all the water he’s around on a ship that he’d find some to clean up with.
“Phipps—” I extricate my hand from his. “I don’t mean to disappoint you, but my nails don’t grow.”
His smile drops.
“They haven’t since—since I was turned to gold.”
His brow furrows. He stares down at the deck.
“But”—his eyes shoot up at my words—“if they do grow, you’ll be the first person I call. And if you think of any more schem—ways I can pay you back, you’re welcome to come tell me.”
“Okay,” he says. He points to his temple. “I’m already working on ideas.”
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