Page 186 of Sword & Sacrifice

“The girl’s in there somewhere. Find another way around.”

“They’re here for me,” Emmaline said, an odd calm settling over her. “Echo, if I leave with them, will everyone here be safe?”

Braden stepped between Emmaline and the door, one hand raised to stop her. “No one is going anywhere.” He looked around the kitchen and demanded, “Are there other entrances?”

The Head of Staff nodded shakily and said, “Three of them. One to the herb garden, one to the pantry, and a passage to the dining room.”

“Block and barricade the doors. We’ll work together to keep them out until the soldiers arrive—”

A crack split the air as the wooden door buckled under the continuous assault. “Excellent plan,” Echo grunted, still putting their full weight against the door to keep it closed for as long as possible. “One we should have executed earlier.”

The door wouldn’t last much longer. If Echo and Koen remained where they were, they would be trampled in the assault.

Emmaline looked around the kitchen for something to push in front of the door, but the first thing her eyes landed on was the bubbling and steaming pot of water. She snatched up its handle and shouted, “Move!”

Braden’s eyes widened and he scrambled out of her way. Both Echo and Koen looked over their shoulders to see what was happening. Koen reacted first, grabbing Echo’s arm and yanking them sideways. They both landed in a heap on the floor, out of Emmaline’s path.

Emmaline tightened both hands on the pot’s handle, ignoring the way the heat stung her palms.

The next collision sent the door flying open. Two men stormed through, teeth bared and swords raised.

With one mighty heft, Emmaline sent the boiling water—pot and all—hurtling at the men. The water sprayed across their hands and faces. A howl of pain rose from both men as their skin turned an ugly, blistered red.

While the men were distracted, Echo surged up from the floor and plunged their sword into the closest pirate’s chest.

Koen tried to follow Echo’s example, but his movements were slower. By the time he aimed his dagger at the second man, the pirate had pushed through the pain enough to defend himself. He raised his sword and knocked Koen’s dagger straight out of his hand, then slashed at the defenseless prince.

Yelping, Koen scrambled out of reach, allowing the pirate to step further into the kitchen.

Braden shouted as he ran forward to protect his son.

Before Emmaline could follow him, an enormous hand clamped over her mouth. A dark arm corded with muscle wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards. The hand over her mouth muffled her scream and the sounds of fighting drowned out her pitiful noises. She struggled against her attacker—bucking, scratching their arm, kicking back at their legs—yet nothing broke their hold as they dragged her through one of the other exits.

“Stop fighting,” the man growled in Emmaline’s ear. She recognized Braz, her father’s first mate, there to kidnap her a second time.

Emmaline ignored the order, redoubling her efforts to escape his grasp. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood, and she managed to free enough of her mouth to bite down into his fleshy palm.

Grunting, Braz yanked his hand out of her teeth.

Emmaline only had a moment to enjoy her victory before his grip on her shifted. Grabbing her with both hands, Braz hauled her up onto his shoulder. The new position pressed painfully into her stomach and prevented her from scratching or biting him. The most she could do was pummel his broad back with her smaller fists and kick uselessly at the air.

But she could scream, and she fully used that new ability, shouting for help in between hurling every insult that came to mind. “Unhand me, you putrid, puss-filled boil!” Anything to draw more attention to herself.

Braz ignored all of it, carrying her into a sea of fighters. If anyone stopped to try to help her, Emmaline couldn’t see it from her position. She raised her voice until the screamed words stung her throat as much as she hoped they stung Braz’s ears. “Flea-riddled pig!”

The view beneath her changed as Braz stepped onto the docks and his heavy footsteps echoed across the wood. He carted her up the ramp and dumped her onto The Eyolf’s deck.

Right at her father’s feet.

Everett knelt in front of Emmaline and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I apologize for the extreme measures,” he said, his voice low and his smile soft. “But I needed to get you out of there as quickly as possible. Before you were hurt.”

She scanned his face, trying to reconcile this soft, gentle man with the ruthless villain attacking Bellacosta’s shores. Everett had been kind to her, one of the few people willing to help her mother, and he seemed to care about her safety now. It couldn’t all be a lie, could it? He only bargained with Varro to save Mama from Alistair. If I tell him Mama is safe now, will he recall his men?

“Please,” she whispered. “Call off your men. You don’t need to work with Varro.”

Without acknowledging her pleas, Everett straightened up and offered his hand to her. Emmaline accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “Mama is safe,” she continued. “I received a letter—”

“Safe?” he repeated, eyebrows arched. “What’s safe about being out there, alone in the world? She’ll be safe when she’s returned to me.”