Faline knew the voice wasn’t Lukas. She pulled a knife. Though she didn’t recognize the man at the steps, that wasn’t the case with the other. “Lukas?” Faline asked, looking toward him.

“Hello, Fallon,” Lukas replied with a crooked smile. “So, you couldn’t resist coming back.”

Alax looked between Lukas and Faline. “You know him?”

“Ah,” Faline replied, trying to rationalize what to say. “Yes, he came upon me when I was in the spring, the last time I was here.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Alax replied with harsh emphasis.

“I know,” Faline admitted, flicking her eyes toward Lukas. “He and I talked, just man-to-man for a few minutes, then I left.”

Tilting her head slightly, as if trying to read Faline’s body language, Alax looked from her toward Lukas.

“Yes,” Lukas continued, an almost mocking tone to his voice, “then you ran off.”

The other man spoke to Lukas, though he looked at Faline. “So, this is the boy you mentioned?”

Faline considered him. He was much taller than Lukas and older, too. His hair was reddish-brown, and his blue eyes had a harsh look.

“Yes, Duncan,” Lukas said. “He’s on his own. I think he’d make a good recruit.”

“Too damned skinny,” Duncan said, giving Faline the once-over. “But he’s young, and he’ll grow into a man,” he said, taking several steps toward Faline. He stuck his thumbs into his belt and swaggered toward her. The arrogance and threat of his tone carried in each stride. Duncan’s eyes swept past her to Alax. “Better yet, he comes with gifts.”

Faline stepped in front of Alax. “No, she’s mine.” The Harrow woman placed a hand on her back and hunkered down.

Duncan gritted his teeth, pulled his thumbs from his belt, and flexed them. “The first lesson is that what is yours is now mine,” he said.

Faline swallowed hard and raised the knife. “Stay back.”

“Don’t annoy me,” Duncan said, narrowing his eyes.

“Fallon,” Lukas said, his voice even, “This isn’t a fight you can win.”

Faline knew that without a doubt. She struggled to find a way out. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

Duncan cocked his head. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“I’ll go with you willingly if you let her go.”

The man nodded his head appreciatively, then smiled. But it had no warmth. “I have a better deal. You’re going to go with us whether you like it or not, and I’m going to have fun with your friend – while you watch.” He lunged forward and grabbed Faline’s arm.

His grip was like iron, and the knife dropped to the ground. She shrieked, “Run, Alax, run.”

The Harrow woman needed no encouragement and darted around Duncan, by leaping on the rocks and nimbly hopping from one to the other. Lukas darted from the cave to stop her from reaching the steps.

Duncan drew his other hand back into a fist, and Faline, seeing this, reacted. “Krew-chee-ah-Tohz,” she whispered, her teeth aching sharp against her tongue, then bit the forearm grasping hers. The big man howled and let go of her arm, just as a balled fist from his other arm slammed into her face. The world turned black.

* * *

Her head pounded like her brain was trying to escape the confines of her skull. Opening her eyes left her with a swirling vision. They coalesced into the white clouds in a blue sky. Sunlight stabbed into her eyes, giving her another migraine. But when she tried to shade her vision, she found her arms bound. Shadow fell across her face, and the unwelcome visage of Duncan appeared in it.

“The little viper is awake,” he said. “You’re lucky I didn’t smash that melon of yours after you bit me. You’ve teeth like a shark, you little pissant.”

Faline twisted around, trying to roll away from Duncan, but a heavy foot came down on her chest. Stomping out the air from her chest.

“Don’t even think about it.” Duncan looked off to one direction. “Lukas, you carry him. He’s your little sack of manure.”

Hands grabbed her, lifted her up, and tossed her over a shoulder. All she could see was the back of someone’s tunic and pants, presumably Lukas. “Where’s my friend?”

A voice spoke to her in muffled tones. “Be quiet, or I might drop you on your head.”

She started to bounce as Lukas walked across the sand. “What happened to Alax?”

A hand grabbed hold of her blond locks and lifted her head. Then she heard another voice, this one clearly Duncan’s. “She got away. Unlike you.”

The hand released her, and relief flooded through her, even as tears began to fall. At least Alax was safe. But the pain she felt in her head was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. She’d lost her only friend in this world, all because of her stupidity.

She stared at the ground, not that she had any choice in the matter, as the white sand slipped past, marked by boot prints from Lukas and Duncan. Then the soft sands gave way to packed sand, clearly closer to the surf. Then water appeared, white and foaming at first, undulating with the cycle of waves, then, at first clear, growing darker and deeper, almost greenish in color.

Where were they going? Are they going to dump her in the water? They stopped, and the next thing she knew, they were dumping her forward. She braced, expecting the cold water to collapse upon her and steal her breath. Instead, she struck a wooden surface and stars flashed across her vision. Sea birds shrieked overhead as she rolled from one side of a wooden enclosure to the other. A couple more thuds, and a splash of water sloshed onto her face, enough to stir her back to consciousness. She turned her head and looked at the wooden bulwark around her. She was in a boat, going somewhere out to sea.

She lay in the skiff trying not to inhale the salty water splashing around her mouth and nose. If the end had come, let it be merciful and quick. And if that wasn’t possible, just let it be quick. Hands grabbed her, and she floated into the air, as wind and spray drizzled her countenance. Once again, her form was being tossed, and she landed with a loud and painful thump on something solid.

“Iago, a little present for ya,” Duncan said to someone out of sight. Once again someone grabbed her. This time, they rolled her over so she no longer stared at the wet surface of a boat deck.

Iago, a man with long dark hair, stared down at her; his brown eyes looked her over. “This one is just a kid. Not much meat on his bones. Should be big enough for the cook, though.”

What? The cook! Sweet Creator, they must be cannibals. She started kicking and thrashing madly. A foot slammed into her chest and pinned her to the deck.

“Knock it off,” Iago said. “Lukas, take this one to the cook.”

She was rolled over roughly, but her bonds went slack, and someone picked her up by the collar. She stood on the deck of a long, narrow ship. The side rail stood tantalizingly a few steps away, yet someone held onto her collar, so she couldn’t wrestle away.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Lukas whispered in her ear. “The sharks will get you before you reach shore, if the undercurrent doesn’t drown you first.”

That would be preferable to being boiled and eaten. She swung an elbow at him, but Lukas deftly sidestepped and dragged her down the steps into the hold. “Keep that up, and they’ll kill you for sure.” Down a long hallway, poorly lit by lamps, she stumbled, being pushed and shoved along by Lukas.

The wheels in her mind slowly turned. “So, you’re not going to eat me?”

Lukas stopped. “Eat you?” he said, incredulously. “Why would we eat you? Is that something your little Harrow girl put into your head? That we’re cannibals?”

“Duncan said for you to take me to the cook.”

“He needs some help in the galley, you nitwit.” With that, Lukas shoved her further down the hall into a large room with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and several large bolted-down wooden tables. Crates with canvas over them were roped to the floor. Nearby was a large lump of a man, grizzled hair down to his waist, large beefy arms, and an angry look on his face.

“What the hell are you bringing me?” he said, eyeing Faline with a malignant stare.