The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 3)
The Puppeteer and The Poisoned Pawn: Chapter 39

We drift up to the ship like a lion hunting a buck in the dead of night.

And the ship… the ship is so much bigger than I anticipated. Hundred feels like a small word as I gawk up at the iron beast.

Dessin rows us silently to the chain submerged in the water.

“We’ll climb it,” he breathes the words so quietly, it sends an explosion through my nerve endings. Adrenaline burns in my bloodstream, tingling my fingers and pumping sweat across my brow.

We all nod quickly as he gets us closer, tying the boat off to the chain. Dessin starts the climb first, sticking the tips of his boots in the giant chain holes, shimming upward like a spider walking up its web. I follow his lead.

“Careful,” Dessin whispers down at me. “The metal is oily.”

I tighten my hold on the metal, careful not to let my hands or feet slip. I pass the warning down to the others, then look up at Dessin halfway to the top. A hot jolt of fear passes through my limbs at the sight. Fog completely blankets our path. I mean, that’s a good thing for our cover, but the thought occurs to me. What if a dozen crossbows are waiting to shoot us down?

But Dessin isn’t worried, so that has to be a good sign. Once I see him throw his leg over the railing of the ship, I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

We can do this.

I remember who we have on our side. Dessin, obviously. An untouchable grim reaper. Warrose, a warrior raised among the beasts. And Marilynn. I don’t know what she’s capable of, but something tells me we’re lucky to have her fighting along with us.

Ruth will give us instructions on signs that only she can read or conversations that we might hear from soldiers on board. And Niles will get us through any locked entrance.

There’s a jerky tug on my consciousness. A tempting pull toward the void. Memories on this ship that are tickling my skin like a thousand feathers. I push the feeling down. Nothing can distract me from this. The last thing I need is to hear voices or lose my sight because I’ve fallen back through a random memory. Not at a time like this.

Dessin helps me over the railing. And then helps the rest of our group.

Before I can get a look around the foggy, abandoned deck, Dessin pulls my face into his oily hands. “No Prison Voids. Keep your mind in your own head. Got it? It’s you and me, baby. We’ve got this.”

A rush of warmth floods my center. I nod, and he kisses me fiercely. A promise that when we get home, he’s going to fuck me senseless.

But as Niles climbs on board, that warmth in my chest is quickly replaced with a chill. It oozes up my spine and thickens behind my lids. I can’t resist the urge to touch the closest memory, just a peek, a sliver of a moment that’s very recent.

Like the transparency of a ghost, I watch three men haul buckets of sloshing liquid to the side of the ship we just climbed. They heave the liquid over the side, drenching the chain in… oil.

Dessin sees my eyes glaze over. He grips my shoulders in sudden panic.

“Svatenzchagranà,” I repeat their language out loud absentmindedly, hoping Ruth will hear my hushed voice. The men dump the buckets until the chain is completely coated. And it hits me. That chain. That fucking chain we climbed was an anchor. They stopped the ship. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Ruth’s face pales as I pull myself from the memory. “Saphrine oil,” she translates in a gasp.

Dessin releases my shoulders, looking down at his greasy hands in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he growls.

“They coated the chain in the same shit that can knock DaiSzek out?” Warrose asks a little louder than our whispers.

I open my mouth to respond, but my tongue goes completely numb. My face tingles like it’s fallen asleep. And through my spotty, darkening vision, Dessin says my name. And then he, along with the rest of the ship, blinks from existence.

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