Raw Winter

Chapter 45: Cage

Mesmar was dead. That was undeniable and unavoidable. He appeared so peaceful, and if not for the bloody wound, he would have appeared to be sleeping.

Rawintr had convinced her crew to let her stay while they took him back to the ship. He deserved to be put to rest with his husband, and they couldn't argue with her and couldn't convince her to come back with them.

"I swear I'm going to stay here and wait. You've proven I can't do this without my crew," she told them, "but I'm not backtracking. If you can't get back to me, then I don't want to be gotten back," Rawintr told them.

And though they were hesitant and insistent she didn't need to do this, she was insistent she was the captain, and they couldn't argue with that.

And so they went away, went back the way they came, and she sat slumped against the wall and considered her options and the loss. Rawintr Wlyfric thought little human life when she considered it. People died, and so far she never did when she was supposed to. Her daughter probably died. Her mother was probably dead.

The more she thought about it, the less she wanted to sit around waiting for them. She didn't think it mattered if she lost her life and if they lost theirs it was their decision.

As she stood, she felt an ache in her chest. She knew Mesmar had come to die, but when she imagined him dying, she had imagined it would be private. She thought it would be between him, his husband, and whatever god they prayed to. No gods heard the likes of pirates here. For a moment that was a comfort to her—her head was never quieter than when she didn't think Lyviarian could reach her, but she knew better. Her head was a boiling pot because his death wasn't just a conversation between the three of them. It included her as well. She would be dead right now if he didn't interrupt what was intended for her.

She told herself she should be dead if not for the mercy of her crewman who died in her place. She told herself that he destined himself to die when he came with her, but was he? Was her survival an act of selfishness and lack of foresight all along? After all, it was her trust that nearly made a knife's home in her. Her better judgment should have told her it was going to happen, and it had cost the life of a good man.

This should have kept her in place, should have kept her pacing back and forth like the late tiger that laid nearby whose flesh was already making the room stink.

If they were going to die for her, it wouldn't be for her.

She told herself she was going to come back as she made her way to the far door. She was just going to scout ahead a little. She reminded herself she needed her hostage, wouldn't get far, and would be lucky if she did.

She stood against the door and listened for what was on the other side and imagined if she was careful and didn't let herself be careless, she could find Catinol and kill him. Whatever happened after didn't matter, even if it meant she wouldn't have a way out.

She couldn't hear anything and cracked it open, pressing her dark eye against the opening and tried seeing what was there. It was a long hallway, but she couldn't measure how long. She imagined it would be awkward if someone caught her in a hallway like this.

She could see a door along the wall, but it was difficult to tell how far it was. It would be easier for a single person to hide over a group of four or five. What were the chances Catinol's son never came this way? Maybe they wouldn't recognize him and they would only be killed if Rawintr didn't do this.

She stepped out into the hall and felt a familiar cold pit forming in her stomach. Was Tirenen going to be waiting for her? Maybe she should go back to the library where she belonged. A low growl built in the back of her throat as the thought came to mind. This was not the manor. If she ever saw Tirenen again, she would blow his head off with her pistol. She would stab him as many times as he stabbed her. The thought bolstered her, and she took one step in front of the other. Her head kept telling her this wasn't where she thought it was. She kept imagining if she ran into anyone, it would be the cruel doctor and his whirling mechanical organs.