At last Zahra brought her to a solid metal door cloaked in shadows.

“In here,” Zahra whispered.

Eliana stared at the door’s handle, fear pounding hard against her breastbone. Arabeth in one hand, she held her breath and turned the handle.

The door opened easily.

“That seems ominous,” Zahra whispered.

Eliana stepped inside and closed the door behind them. It was a small room, dark and choked with hissing pipes.

And in the center of it, lit by a single hanging gas lamp, was Simon.

Eliana faltered at the sight of him. He had been bound with black rope to a pole that spanned from floor to ceiling, his arms wrenched cruelly behind him. His torso was bare and blood-spattered, the scarred flesh torn to pieces from new wounds. Carvings.

“Simon,” she whispered, moving slowly to stand before him. His head hung low, his eyes closed. The thought that he might already be dead brought a terrible sadness crashing down upon her, so unexpected that the shock of it made her throat ache. “Please be alive.”

His head jerked up at the sound of her voice. “Eliana?”

She saw his eyes and recoiled. They were bloodshot and yellowed, the brilliant blue irises turned dull and cloudy. She smoothed her thumb across one of the few patches of skin not covered with blood.

“You’re going to owe me so much after this.” Her voice came out shaky. “Do you know how cold that water is?”

“No. No!” Simon struggled against the ropes. “Get out of here, run!”

Beside Eliana, Zahra shifted in surprise. “Look out!”

Eliana whirled to see Rahzavel emerge from the shadows, a thin sword in each hand. “Hello, Eliana,” he crooned. “Welcome to the end of your story.”

“Why didn’t I sense him?” Zahra whispered, her voice tight with anger under the hissing of the pipes. Then her form stiffened. “The Emperor’s touch is heavy upon him. We must leave, my queen, before Corien finds you.”

“Eliana, leave me!” Simon howled, yanking hard at his bindings.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Eliana watched Rahzavel approach, noticed the red sprays across his face and how his dark uniform glistened with blood—Simon’s blood, she assumed.

“How right you are,” said Rahzavel. “You know, don’t you, that if you try to kill me, you’ll fail, and if you make even one move at me—one fucking move!—then I’ll kill you first and make him watch.” He pointed his sword at Simon and grinned. “Either way, your little rescue mission will be for nothing.”

“Eliana, please, run!” Simon cried.

Rahzavel batted his eyelashes, whimpering. “Leave me! Oh, my darling, darling Eliana, save yourself!”

“Eliana,” whispered Zahra, floating tensely beside her.

“Shut up,” Eliana snapped, eyes trained on Rahzavel’s lithe form, watching how he moved, gauging the weight of his swords and the size of the room.

“No, I don’t think I will shut up, thank you.” Rahzavel sauntered around Simon. “In fact, I think I’d like to tell you a story. It’s about a bounty hunter who thought she was invincible, but really she was just a fool bitch who got lucky one too many times.”

“God, I’m sick of listening to you,” Eliana ground out, her body itching to move.

Then, a thought came to her. She looked to Zahra, raised an eyebrow.

“My queen,” Zahra murmured, “if I do this, I may not have the strength for anything else.”

“Do it, now.”

The wraith shot toward Rahzavel and dove straight into his smiling mouth.

Rahzavel staggered back, choking. He dropped his swords and clutched his face, stumbled back against a knot of piping.

“What is this?” His warped voice shook with the weight of Zahra’s anger. He clawed at his clothes, at his hair. “What is it, Dread? What have you done? What’s inside me? A wraith?”

Eliana stormed over, grabbed his shirt in her fist, and slammed him to the floor.

“I’m afraid, Rahzavel,” she replied, straddling his chest and wedging Arabeth’s jagged blade against his throat, “that this is the end of your story.”

Then she slashed open his throat, rose calmly to her feet, and left him choking where he’d fallen. Zahra drifted up from his body and clapped her hands together as if wiping them clean. A few seconds later all was silent—until two explosions shook the world.

The ship shuddered and moaned. From outside came the shouts of adatrox, the frantic clap of boots against the decks.

Eliana froze. “What was that?”

Zahra cocked her head, listening. Then her face darkened, an inkblot dropped into gray waters.

“It has begun,” she whispered. “The fleet has engaged Astavar.”

Eliana ran to Simon, started cutting at the ropes that bound him.

“I told you to leave,” Simon rasped as she worked. “You didn’t listen to me.”

“Does that surprise you?” She came around to cut the last two ropes. When he fell free, she tried to hold him up, bear his weight as best she could, but she was exhausted, and it had been too long since a proper meal. Her knees buckled; she sank with him to the floor, swearing under her breath.

“All right,” she said, trying to slide out from under him, but his body was a deadweight, pinning her to the floor. “Come on, get up. We have to get off this boat and make it to shore while everyone’s shooting at each other. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

He didn’t answer her. He was laughing—looking up at her from his spot on her lap and laughing at her.

“Oh, Eliana.” Dull tears slid out of his eyes. “If only you knew. There are so many stories I need to tell you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but can we do it later?” She shoved at him again, but he was shaking with laughter now and wouldn’t budge.

“I’ve seen this before.” Zahra pointed at his eyes. “During the invasion. Poison gas.”

“You’re saying he’s blind?”

“For now. Sometimes the eyes repair themselves. Other times…”

“Wonderful. That makes everything easier. Simon?” She slapped him lightly on the cheek. “If you don’t move, I’m going to get angry.”

“Do it,” Simon whispered. “Get angry for me. Sweet, sweet Eliana.” He raised a trembling hand to her face, smoothed his thumb across her cheek. “It’s just what I want.”