Siege and Storm (Shadow and Bone #2)(12)

Mal frowned. “You want me to hunt whales?”

“No,” said the Darkling. “I want you to hunt the sea whip.”

We stared at him in shock. I almost laughed.

“You’re looking for a dragon?” Mal said incredulously.

“The ice dragon,” said the Darkling. “Rusalye.”

Rusalye. In the stories, the sea whip was a cursed prince, forced to take the form of a sea serpent and guard the frigid waters of the Bone Road. That was Morozova’s second amplifier?

“It’s a fairy tale,” Mal said, voicing my own thoughts. “A children’s story. It doesn’t actually exist.”

“There have been sightings of the sea whip in these waters for years,” said the Darkling.

“Along with mermaids and white selkies. It’s a myth.”

The Darkling arched a brow. “Like the stag?”

Mal glanced at me. I gave an infinitesimal shake of my head. Whatever the Darkling was doing, we weren’t going to help.

Mal peered out at the waves. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“For her sake, I hope that’s not true.” The Darkling pulled a slender knife from the folds of his kefta. “Because every day we don’t find the sea whip, I’ll peel away a piece of her skin. Slowly. Then Ivan will heal her, and the next day, we’ll do it all over again.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“You won’t hurt her,” Mal said, but I could hear the fear in his voice.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” said the Darkling. “I want you to do as I ask.”

“It took me months to find the stag,” Mal said desperately. “I still don’t know how we did it.”

Sturmhond stepped forward. I’d been so focused on Mal and the Darkling, I’d nearly forgotten him. “I won’t have a girl tortured on my ship,” he said.

The Darkling turned his cold gaze on the privateer. “You work for me, Sturmhond. You’ll do your job or getting paid will be the least of your worries.”

An ugly ripple of disquiet passed over the ship. Sturmhond’s crew were sizing up the Grisha, and their expressions were not friendly. Genya had a hand pressed over her mouth, but she did not say a word.

“Give the tracker some time,” Sturmhond said quietly. “A week. At least a few days.”

The Darkling slid his fingers up my arm, pushing back my sleeve to reveal bare white flesh. “Shall I start with her arm?” he asked. He dropped the sleeve, then brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “Or with her face?” He nodded to Ivan. “Hold her.”

Ivan clasped the back of my head. The Darkling lifted the knife. I saw it glittering from the corner of my eye. I tried to cringe back, but Ivan held me in place. The blade met my cheek. I sucked in a frightened breath.

“Stop!” Mal shouted.

The Darkling waited.

“I … I can do it.”

“Mal, no,” I said with more courage than I felt.

Mal swallowed and said, “Tack southwest. Back the way we came.”

I stayed very still. Had he seen something? Or was he just trying to keep me from getting hurt?

The Darkling cocked his head to one side and studied him. “I think you know better than to play games with me, tracker.”

Mal gave a sharp nod. “I can do it. I can find it. Just … just give me time.”

The Darkling sheathed his knife. I exhaled slowly and tried to suppress a shiver.

“You have a week,” he said, turning away and disappearing into the hatch. “Bring her,” he called to Ivan.

“Mal—” I began as Ivan grasped my arm.

Mal lifted his bound hands, reaching for me. His fingers grazed mine briefly, then Ivan was hauling me back toward the hatch.

My mind was racing as we descended into the dank belly of the ship. I stumbled along behind Ivan, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The Darkling had said that he wouldn’t harm Mal as long as he needed him. I’d assumed he just meant to use him to keep me in line, but now it was clear there was more to it than that. Did Mal really think he could find the sea whip, or was he stalling for time? I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be true. I didn’t savor the idea of being tortured, but what if we did find the ice dragon? What would a second amplifier mean?

Ivan pulled me into a spacious cabin that looked like the captain’s quarters. Sturmhond must have been squeezed in with the rest of his crew. A bed was pushed into one corner, and the deeply curved aft wall was studded with a row of thick-paned windows. They shed watery light on a desk behind which the Darkling seated himself.

Ivan bowed and darted from the room, closing the door behind him.

“He can’t wait to get away from you,” I said, hovering by the door. “He’s afraid of what you’ve become. They all are.”

“Do you fear me, Alina?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The Darkling shrugged. “Fear is a powerful ally,” he said. “And loyal.”

He was watching me in that cold, assessing way that always made me feel as if he were reading me like words on a page, his fingers moving over the text, gleaning some secret knowledge that I could only guess at. I tried not to fidget, but the irons at my wrists chafed.