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“I’m already under orders. I’m not to leave here without you.”

“Amarinda’s orders?” That was infuriating.

“She asked me to do whatever I could to help you be safe. She said you wouldn’t listen to anyone else, but maybe I could get you to leave before it’s too late.” Imogen arched her neck. “If you force me to choose which order to obey, it’ll be hers. Because she’s right. You shouldn’t be here.”

No words could describe the anger I felt. I’d known Amarinda and Imogen had become friends, but this felt nearly as disloyal as Gregor asking for a steward.

Imogen reached out, but I turned away from her. Then it occurred to me that too much time had passed since I left Agor. “If you’re here to help me, then I need the meat cleaver from the kitchen. And if anyone asks, you’ve got to say that I stole it.”

Imogen rolled her eyes, then opened the door to leave. I grabbed her arm as she started to walk out and said, “This isn’t over between us.”

“No,” she said with equal ferocity. “It’s not.”

I returned to Agor a few minutes later and handed him the cleaver. In my other hand was a warm roll. He grinned. “Did you have any trouble?”

“The cleaver was easy. Getting past one of your girls was a little more work.”

“Leave them alone, or it’ll be the last thing you do here. Follow me.” Agor led me into a small, dark hut. I paused in the doorway, seeing several other pirates already crowded into the room. Erick was there too, but he barely looked at me. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Sit.” Agor pulled out a chair in front of a small table.

I sat. My hand brushed against my belt where I hoped my knife or sword would have magically appeared, but of course they weren’t there. I wished I’d kept the cleaver, but Agor had it and held it in a way that made me uncomfortable. Had Erick failed to convince them to accept me?

Agor pointed to a man sitting directly opposite me. He was of average height but built like a boulder. Numerous scars defined his years as a pirate and gave him authority over the other men. His brown hair was streaked in gold tones and wasn’t half as well trimmed as his beard. But it was his eyes I focused on. They were slits of blackness that made him appear completely devoid of any soul.

“Sage,” Agor said. “This is Devlin, our king.”

I stared at him while blood rushed through my veins. Remembering everything he’d done, venomous emotions rose inside me, and it was all I could do to keep an even expression on my face. The only way to save Carthya was to bring down the pirates, starting with Devlin. And in that moment, I was certain that I was capable of it.

Devlin offered me his hand to shake. I stretched mine out tentatively. Devlin took it, then slammed my arm down on the table. Instantly, Agor got behind me with one arm locked around my neck and his other hand holding the cleaver to my throat. I arched my head away from the blade, but that only gave him a reason to tighten his grip.

“Your name is Sage?” Devlin asked.

“Will there be a lot of questions?” I countered. “If so, you might give me space to breathe.”

Devlin nodded at Agor, who loosened his hold, but the cleaver was still closer to me than I liked.

“You have strong forearms, Sage.”

“I inherited them from my grandmother. She was a bulky woman.”

He smiled at the joke, then said, “That’s good to know. Because otherwise I’d think you spent a lot of time with that heavy sword you brought here.”

“That’s only for when I need to stab someone.”

This time, Devlin didn’t smile. He said, “I heard you were upset by my killing that priest years ago.”

“That’s true.” My eyes shifted from Devlin to Erick, who motioned with his hands that I should explain myself. “But not nearly as upset as I’d be if you killed me right now.”

That seemed to entertain Devlin. “Did you know that priest?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He took me in for a while.”

“He also betrayed my trust.” Devlin looked around the room to be sure everyone was watching him. They were. “That’s why he had to die. Does that bother you?”


Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Ascendance Fantasy