that thirteen.”
Number 13 towers over all of them. If not for the fin-like ears, I’d say he was a merman. But with the scars that cover his bare chest and shoulders in rough patches, the tan of his scaly skin, and the dorsal-like ridges that form a Mohawk down his bald head, he’s a merrow—and he’s holding Arion with a jagged knife at his throat.
Arion’s face is red with fury. His fists are white and, more importantly, powerless in helping him defend himself. My dagger hums with frantic energy matching the rush of adrenaline that makes my knees shake. I take a step forward but the giant merrow holds out a careful finger at me.
“Now, now,” Number 13 says. They’ve never spoken before. It’s always been sharp teeth and flying fists. “Would you believe me if I told you I mean you no harm?”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?”
“Mother told me you were funny.” His high cheekbones are pronounced when he smiles. “The only difference is that I mean you no harm tonight, in this moment. I was seeking another ship. But when I recognized this prisoner here,” he gives Arion’s neck a squeeze, “I couldn’t resist meeting you in person.”
“Let my captain go and come meet me.” My heart is booming in my chest. Kurt catches my eye. I know he doesn’t want me to throw the first punch. We’re severely outnumbered and the merrows are getting smarter. At least, this one is.
“As you like,” Number 13 says. “He isn’t going anywhere any time soon.”
He throws Arion overboard, and the captain grasps at the air as if his ropes are failing him. A loud thud echoes when he hits the side of the ship, then hangs slack.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask.
“So small. So feisty.” Before I can counter with another insult, he continues, “My mother calls me Archer. I am the voice of my brothers. Our condition makes it so most of us can’t communicate the way normal sea folk can. Then again, we are not normal sea folk. We are stronger. Better. Our mother nurtured us, took care of us when your kingdom threw us away like driftwood.”
Kurt spits on the floor. “You’re a fool. You can no more trust the silver witch than the eye of a storm.”
Archer cocks his head to the side. His men encircling us are getting restless, but with one hand motion from him, they stop shuffling. “I’ve heard of you, Kurtomathetis. Such beauty, wasted in the end.”
At the threat, Thalia tries to step forward but Gwen holds her back.
“Not that this isn’t fun for all of us,” I say. “I mean, I love meeting new people. But we have places to go. I’ll thank you to get off my ship.”
“I thought you were the civilized one, being human and merkin. I knew the rumors of your greatness were exaggerated. Believe me, I will feel your spine crumble in my fist.”
I smirk. “I thought you were here to be my friend.”
Archer takes another step toward me. He’s a good foot taller. His fists are calloused, and his teeth are rows of perfect canines.
“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be your friend. My mother says we are not to hurt you.”
“Why?” Nieve, the silver mermaid, the itch in my veins I can’t scratch.
“Because we are to be brothers.” Archer holds his blade forward, pointing it at Kurt. “I can’t say the same for your shipmates.” His eyes fall on Layla. Her breath catches in her throat as she takes a shaky step back against me. He breathes her in. “She smells divine. Mother would like her.”
Then he reaches out a hand for her, keeping his eyes on me the whole time, and I do exactly what he’s been waiting for.
I throw the first punch.
Forget Nieve.
Forget the throne.
Forget the oracle that tricked me into a promise I don’t want to keep. Forget Kurt shouting my name to stand back.
When I throw the first punch at Archer, I lose myself. Hell, it doesn’t even hurt him. Not the way it hurts me. It’s like hitting cement, and even though the pain hasn’t hit me yet, sticky blood drips from my knuckles.
The shouting starts instantly, along with swords clashing, wood splintering, and bodies splashing.
Archer said he doesn’t want to hurt me. Though I have a hard time believing him exactly, all he does is grin. He breathes in the rage, the adrenaline.
I’m not ready for the blow he reciprocates with. I fly