Page 88 of Carousel

Dezeeves’ smile twists.

“Someone aboard my ship possessing information I don’t already have? Now, that would be an interesting moment in time.”

He makes to close the door.

But then I hear it. A cry of pain.

Instantly, I jam my boot in the doorway, stopping the door from closing.

“Ara,” Dezeeves warns.

I ignore him. Search past him.

And I see Drake on a platform behind Dezeeves.

He’s seated in a deep barrel, slumped forward, his head hanging low and dripping wet. Ephraine is standing dangerously close to him, a metal plate on his square fist.

And I’m no longer thinking.

I bolt, swerving around Dezeeves.

“Drake!” I yell. “Drake, what are they doing to you?”

I crouch in front of him, aware I’m now on the platform too, surrounded by officers on all sides. Now I’m closer, I can see a bruise blooming over his cheek and jaw.

“What is this?” Ephraine yells, only feet away from me. He stretches out his massive arms restlessly, like he’s thinking of now taking a swing at me.

“Ephraine,” Dezeeves says tightly. “I can only apologise for this intrusion.”

“Well, get her!”

“Just wait,” Dezeeves says, calmer. “Let’s give them a moment.”

I push my forehead to Drake’s.

“Drake, can you hear me?”

He’s still for a moment, his face shadowed, before his mouth moves, once.

“What, Drake?” I ask, desperate. Watching his lips.

“Go,” he says, louder this time.

I’m shaking my head. “I can’t just leave you like this.”

“No more moments,” Ephraine declares. “Take Ara away, Samson.”

There are hands on my shoulders, pulling me roughly. I struggle against them.

“Stop,” I yell. “I’m not leaving. I’m not⁠—”

I see a flash behind my eyes. Feel pressure, like someone’s partially opened a valve in my skull.

Shooting pains run up my arms.

I blink. But the room is still.

I spin around and see the younger officer named Samson behind me. Just watching us, motionless, his long face lopsided with confusion. As if he’s been suspended in time.