Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

Marcello's shoulders rise and fall in a lazy shrug. “I’ve only known you for a day, what do you expect?”

That sort of attitude is something I could see a Bend born Hybrid doing, not someone from The Oasis. Who are these men?

Juilliard squats low. The pallor of his skin makes me wonder if he's ever seen a dead body before. Do the citizens in The Oasis even know what death is like? With a shaky laugh, he says “Probably not a mutiny. Gods above, he is still bleeding!”

Marcello looks down. Humming a friendly tune, he snatches the large wide brimmed hat that's toppled away from Balander in his fall and places it on his head. He adjusts it for a moment until he's satisfied with the covering it provides for his features. He snaps his fingers at a couple of pirates who walk together. “Men, clean up on aisle three.” He looks to me. “Isn’t that something you Humans used to say?”

I wouldn't know. My education didn't exactly cover any humanisms. Once I was taken in by Joss's coven, my training mainly included different forms of physical combat and a simple sleight of hand. All that I've gathered of history is from the odds and end clues left behind from the war or conversations that I've eavesdropped on. I am pretty good at that. Eavesdropping, I mean. I can't consider myself a great listener, but when it comes to overhearing something I shouldn't, suddenly I'm soaking it all in like a dry sponge.

I roll my eyes, the movement much too similar to the Captain's before his untimely death. Whatever allure Marcello seems to have on other people, it isn't going to work on me.

The two crew members gather up the limp body. Marring drops of red continue to stain the deck as they walk Balander to the edge and toss his body overboard with a grunt. He hits the unforgiving waters with a splash that carries the scent of salt up to us. We need to leave quickly, before any witnesses come forward and all of The Bend holds us to trial. Kill and run, that's my motto.

“On the bright side, now we have us a ship. And we are heading right for the Games.” Marcello hands the sword off to someone else who passes, weighing the words. “With a few stops on the way.” The crewman takes the weapon without a complaint. Then he claps his hands together, rubbing his palms in anticipation. He smiles broadly, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Juilliard, would you give Miss Nilsa a tour of the ship?"

He doesn't look pleased, but Juilliard turns on his heels and starts walking. I assume I'm supposed to follow. Without offering Marcello a thank you or even the smallest glance, I trail after his friend. Though the heat of the Elf's gaze is squarely on my shoulders, I refuse to turn around.

"This is the top deck." Juilliard's voice is dull as he motions around us. Much like Marcello, he is clad head to toe in leather and gold metal clasps, only he chooses not to top his with a hot-pink coat. The unwrinkled leather groans as he shifts, pointing a hand above us. "That's the crow’s nest."

How educational.

We stop just before the shade that comes from the deck that rises about six feet up on the back half of the boat. He turns to me, putting his hands on his hips and angling his head to motion behind us. "Up there is the helm."

Now, I'm not much on nautical terms but I'd say my common sense is pretty decent. I flick my gaze up the stairs. The helm, the big wooden steering wheel, got it.

"I shouldn't have to say this, but for good measure I will." Because he isn't sure what my teeny tiny Human brain can comprehend, I'm sure. "Don't touch anything. Seriously, nothing."

Looking around, I'm not sure what's here that I would even want to touch. The only things on the top deck of the boat are lengths of ropes, chains, and metal hooks or contraptions I don't know the name of. What good would it do me to fiddle around with any of that?

As I leave him without yet another response, he smacks his lips and walks over to a small trap door with a metal ring. The hinges protest with a loud squeak as he lifts the door. From its position in the middle of the sky, the relentless sun shines down onto the staircase underneath.

"Ladies first?" he offers.

I'm quick to shake my head. Hells to the no.

He sighs, but begins down the steps. He swivels, walking sideways when his shoulders scrape along the walls on either side of the stairwell. Even my shoulders brush against the walls as I force myself into the darkness below. Always aware, I keep my head cocked to easily catch a glance behind me, in case someone tries to follow.

As my eyes adjust on the bottom step, I find myself in a large room. Half of the space is filled with crates, barrels, and bags of goods that I assume are the merchandise the pirates sell off to the merchants in The Bend.

How far do the pirates go to trade? Do they steal from The Oasis and come to barter their goods in The Bend where common theft is often overlooked? Only vaguely am I aware that other kingdoms exist, though if asked I couldn't produce a single name. Maybe life in another kingdom would be kinder than my life here. It's too late to ponder such things now, though.

I'm able to view the assortment of their assets from the light that seeps in from a few small windows that look out along the surface of the sea. Green prisms are placed about the space, throwing the light into the dark corners of the room.