And because of Kalligan, Roslyn is fighting for her life back on my ship.
I meet no resistance when I push against the door latch. He must be inside if his rooms are unlocked. He always locks up when he leaves.
I shut the door gently behind me. I can’t help but keep my steps light, my breathing soft, even though I know no matter how I approach, he won’t hear me.
My pounding heart is the loudest sound as I walk through his sitting room. Chairs gather around a table. A storage of rum fills the wall with the finest vintages. His rooms are the only places on the ship that don’t scream of death.
The study contains a neat desk with map pieces and notes on the journey next to them. I move past it all to hover outside his bed chamber.
Pressing my ear to the door, I hold my breath.
His deep breaths carry to me like beating wings on the wind.
I reach down and pause for a moment, wondering what my instrument of death will be. The cutlass? As tempting as shooting him from a distance is, the pistol can’t be an option. I don’t dare use something so loud. What if that could push through the wax-covered ears of the sleeping men below? Besides, this is personal. I should be right with him when I end his life.
I slide a hand into my boot, brushing my leggings, and pull out the dagger there. The hilt is small in my hands, but sturdy, the blade wickedly sharp. My fist closes over the smooth metal handle.
Everything is ready.
Everything except me.
I think of my crew once more for strength and open the door.
*
First, I spot my mother.
She is strapped to a chair with ropes. They bind her shoulders to the chair’s back, her thighs to the seat, her ankles to the chair’s legs. Her wrists are bound together behind her back. Her mouth is gagged, and her face is lightly swollen, starting to show the signs of the beating Kalligan no doubt gave her.
She looks up at my entrance, and her eyes widen.
I raise a finger to my lips, even though she’s gagged.
She nods and watches me while I turn my attention to the bed. Kill him first. Then free her.
Kalligan lies on his stomach, his head twisted so it faces the door. And me. But his eyes are shut in slumber. One arm is tucked under his pillow. I know it grips a large dagger. He never sleeps without one near. Like a dangerous child with his doll.
I can give him no more thought. There is no time or room for guilt and indecision to set in. No emotion. Just action.
I tiptoe to the bed.
One quick swipe.
Now.
My wrist flicks outward. I force my eyes to remain open the whole time. No chance for error.
I tense just before the metal sinks into flesh—
Except it doesn’t.
It meets metal.
The hand under the pillow arcs outward, catching the blow on the blade it holds.
“You should have gone with a pistol,” he says.
That much is clear now.
He pushes back against my blade and rises in the same motion. Somehow, him standing makes everything easier. It’s not difficult to fight someone who is also trying to take my life.
This changes everything. It’s not about stealth anymore. It’s about beating an opponent I lose to at swordplay as often as I win. Kalligan is immune to my song. We’re matched in strength. I have him beat in speed, but he’s trained me all my life. No one can anticipate my moves like he can.
“Put down your weapon, Alosa,” he says. “Beg for my forgiveness. I might give it. After I’m satisfied with your punishment.”
“I am not the one who needs forgiving.”
“You would judge me? Because you’re so pure? You’re just like me. There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do to get what I have.”
“That’s not true. I wouldn’t hurt innocents. I wouldn’t…”
“Kill your own father?”
I switch the dagger to my left hand and draw my sword. “What we’re about to do has nothing to do with power. It’s about making things right.” I have lost crew members because of this man.
He reaches for his own cutlass, a look of indifference upon his face. “You will accomplish nothing. I can assure you of that.”
The ship rocks at the same time the boom of a cannon ignites on the air. The motion is slight, not enough to knock over either of us.
But it’s surely enough to wake everyone on the ship.
Someone in his crew must have spotted the girls and fired a cannon to wake the rest.
“You’re not as careful as you think,” Kalligan says. “Everything you do, I am always one step ahead.”
I realize then that we’re conversing, which means he doesn’t have his ears covered. Not like the rest of his men. He must have heard the dying call of the man Sorinda killed. It would have been slight in here, but enough to wake my father.
“The sirens will have you,” I tell him, trying to hide my rage. I’ve doomed my whole crew. They can’t have killed enough of Kalligan’s sleeping men. If they even made it that far.
He grins, something born of triumph and greed. “The sirens can’t touch me. I am immune.”
I blink. I’ve always known my song doesn’t affect him because of the blood we share, but he can’t be immune to all sirens. But what does he gain by lying?
Nothing.
Shouts interrupt the quiet outside. Night is over. I can see the sun rising out the window now.
Our final battle has begun.
He makes the first move, a swipe meant to take off my head. I duck it and thrust at his gut. He tries to dodge it, but my sword catches him in the side. The tip of my sword comes back bloodied, like a spotted dog’s tail.
I know better than to relish over the victory. My father does not weaken like a normal man after being struck. Pain fuels him, makes him stronger.
Makes him charge me.
I’ve already begun backing up, slamming the door to his bedroom in front of me. I do not turn my back to him. Never give your back to an opponent. Even now his training directs my movements.
BAM!
My arms barely shield my face in time. Wood splinters dig into my skin as the shattered door explodes in my direction. The blood lust is upon my father. His battle rage makes him forget pain. Forget reason. Rather than opening his door, he punched his weight through it.
It’s a move meant to scare, intimidate.
And it works.
I falter a step, but manage to get the door to the deck open. I don’t want to be enclosed in his quarters with him. Can’t be. I need the dawning light from outside to capture him. To remind me he is only a man. If I avoid looking too hard at his face, I can forget it’s one I’ve grown up seeing my whole life. One I actually loved.
I press my back into the outside wall to his rooms, right next to the door opening, and spare a glance at the scene below.
The girls are keeping themselves busy on the deck of the Dragon’s Skull. They’ve come above from the sleeping quarters and are bottlenecking my father’s men as they come up through the hatches.
Mandsy, you brilliant, brilliant woman.