BOOK 2 - SNEAK PEEK!

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This may or may not be the final draft of the first chapter of the next book (I'm putting in the disclaimer in case things change by the end of editing :)) Book two is told in two POVs, Dendrite and Mila. THIS chapter is Dendrite's POV.

I never expected death to taste like anything, much less salt. But that's the flavor filling my mouth.

My entire body sways. My eyes sting as I force them open. A small circular window glows with light that's warm like the setting sun. It barely illuminates the space around me, which is walled in. A small room?

My nose wrinkles as the odors register. There's definitely a chamberpot near, mixed with—fish? As for the swaying—I seem to be in a hammock. Not quite the picture painted of the afterlife during mass.

Exactly how I got here is beyond me. The last thing I really remember is the thunderstorm and the cliff. Had the lightening not flashed when it did, I would have run right over the edge. But—did I?

Or perhaps Vlad had changed his mind. My horse had lost her footing, nearly crushing me as she fell. He had come straight for me, his eyes cold and his jaw set. He was my father's prized guard. Always accomplishing whatever task given to him. He protected Mila when Father betrothed himself to her. He'd hunted down the blacksmith when she'd inevitably betrayed him. And with Father's death, Mila remained as Vlad's sole master. Her instructions were evident on his face as he rushed toward me. I was too stunned, I'd scrambled away from my horse, keeping an eye on my attacker.

But then his face softened, he looked as though he were on the verge of tears when he barked, "Go!" Perhaps he let me run because the chase would bring more excitement to his task. As prey, I had been too easy.

Then that brilliant flash of light I had assumed saved my life was the very thing he needed to find his mark—me. If he killed me, would I remember the last moments?

But if I'm dead, why am I here? This can't be heaven. So it must be hell.

That can't be right.

The hammock jerks sharply, almost knocking me into the wall. How is that happening?

I startle as the door to the room opens. I wrap my fingers tightly around the netting of the hammock, caught like a fish. That won't do. I swing my legs over the side and stand on shaky legs.

I let out a breath as the realization hits me. I'm on a ship.

A man holding a lantern fills the doorway. The light illuminating his long black hair and scraggly beard. His clothes are filthy and with him comes a stench somehow worse than what's already in the room.

He comes closer and I lean away, wrinkling my nose and casting my gaze over him from head to foot. "Who are you?" I ask.

"I might ask the same of you." He juts a hand forward. A biscuit nestled in his grubby palm.

I lift my chin. Does he expect me to eat that?

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No." My stomach growls.

He grins and it almost makes him attractive despite his appearance and stench. I'd expected gaps in his teeth given the state of him but from what I can see, he has all of them. He pushes the biscuit toward me once more and I snatch it.

He gives a mock bow. "Captain Ridgeley and you're aboard my ship."

"Captain?" I sneer. "What kind of captain dresses as you do?" He's certainly not of any royal navy. Where's his uniform?

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