“I’m not giving it to you.”

Draxen clenches his teeth and jerks his head violently to the side. “I was going to let Ulgin have you if you weren’t cooperative, but I find I’ve got far too much of a desire to handle this interrogation myself.”

This is not going to be pleasant.

Draxen gets behind me and yanks my head backward by my hair. I grimace at the pain. He strikes the side of my face with a closed fist.

“Where is Kalligan’s keep, girl?”

I don’t answer. He hits me again.

“Draxen.” It’s Riden.

“What?”

“This doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Then leave. It needs to be done and you know it.” I receive another blow to the head. My nose starts to bleed.

You can’t fight back, I tell myself. You can kill Draxen yourself when this is all over, but right now you can’t fight back. It’s my father’s voice in my head.

“Draxen, please,” Riden tries again.

“I said ‘leave,’ Riden.” Draxen hits me with his other hand. This one bites more deeply. I think it’s his ring hand, where he bears the seal of the Allemos line. It cuts my cheek.

“Brother,” Riden tries again. This time more forcefully. It’s the most backbone I’ve seen from him.

Draxen’s eyes must be alight with blood lust. But he halts at that one word. He sighs as if to clear his head. “Fine, Riden. If you insist. Are you ready to talk yet, princess?”

I remain silent.

“What do you think, Riden?” Draxen asks, and I don’t like the new tone his voice takes. “The pirate king doesn’t need a daughter with hair, does he?”

I hear a knife slide out of a sheath.

Riden doesn’t protest at this. Why would he? It doesn’t hurt to have one’s hair cut, but he seems not to understand the value a woman’s hair has to her.

And I’ve no intention of losing mine. “Stop!” Drops of blood spray outward as I speak. The blood from my nose has run into my mouth.

Kearan tilts his head to the side and speaks for the first time. “That’s what it took? Her bloody hair?”

“To interrogate a woman, you have to think like a woman,” Draxen says.

“Which is strangely effortless for you,” I say.

Despite Riden’s earlier protests, Draxen hits me again. But I don’t care. That one was worth it. The other pirates in the room have the sense not to laugh.

“The location, Alosa,” Draxen demands.

“Lycon’s Peak. Do you know it?” I ask.

“Aye.” Kearan’s the one who answers. Naturally. Enwen told me that Kearan was once a traveler and adventurer.

“The keep is two weeks’ sail northeast of there.”

“Is that possible?” Draxen asks. “Is there anything above that?”

Kearan says, “There could easily be a few small islands there.”

Draxen releases my hair and stands in front of me. “If you’re lying, girl, I will take both your hair and a hand.”

“Do you truly think you’ll be successful sneaking into my father’s keep? Once you get there, my father will hang you all.”

“We’ll take our chances. Riden, take the prisoner back to her quarters. Bring me back a map. Kearan, meet us at the helm to set our course.”

A few moments later, I’m back in Riden’s room, holding a towel to my nose while Riden digs through the pile of maps in his room.

He can’t see my huge smile under the towel. It’s not just because I’ve all but destroyed all of his maps. I also didn’t have to give away the location to my father’s keep. No, the location I gave them is one my father and I discussed before I set out on this mission. My father and many of his men will be waiting there for me to return with the map. We knew Draxen would try to discover where my father’s keep is. We had a location already in mind to give him should things turn sour.

The only problem now is that I have a deadline for finding that map. I have to have it before we reach my father. Or he will not be pleased.

Bad things happen when he’s not pleased.

Chapter 11

RIDEN LEAVES ME ALONE for several hours that day. Though my face doesn’t hurt anymore (I’ve always been a fast healer), my stomach aches something fierce from the want of food. It’s been a day and a half since I’ve eaten.

I try to imagine I’m home at the keep, attending one of Father’s grand feasts. He’ll have every kind of meat imaginable, from pork to beef to fowl. My mouth waters at the imagined taste of steamed vegetables and sweetened fruits. Pies and wine. Bread and cheese. If they don’t feed me today, I’ll have to risk sneaking down to the kitchens tonight.

But I needn’t have worried.

I can smell something hot and delicious from the other side of the door.

As soon as Riden enters, I pluck one of the bowls out of his hand.

“Careful,” he says, “it’s still hot.”

I don’t care. I burn a spot on my tongue as I take a few gulps of the soup. I hardly even taste it as the liquid burns all the way down to my stomach. When my bowl is drained, I grab the other one in Riden’s hand and start on it.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized how long it’d been since you’d eaten. You should’ve said something.”

I don’t look his way while I eat. I’ve enough food in me now to patiently use the spoon and blow on the soup. My teeth eagerly bite into the vegetables and potatoes in the mix.

When I’ve finished the second bowl, I drop it to the ground and retreat to the bed. I still feel weaker than usual. It might be midday, but something tells me I could drift off now and sleep all the way until morning. Too many nights with too little sleep.

My eyes are closed, but I can hear Riden moving around the room. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to clean up your mess.”

“Could you do it more quietly? I’m trying to sleep. I’ve had a rough couple of days, you know.”

He snorts, but the rustling sound of cleaning still continues.

“Good idea, you cleaning the room and all,” I say. “I’ll need something to do tomorrow.”

There’s a loud slam as he throws down whatever he’d been holding. My eyes fly open as Riden hauls me up by my arms.