Page 169 of Sword & Sacrifice

Despite all the noise—or perhaps because of it—Emmaline occasionally spotted the silent stalkers in the crowd, their expressions dark as they searched people’s faces, looking for two runaways. Even when they locked eyes with Emmaline, they barely gave her a cursory examination before moving on to the next person, all thanks to Echo’s glamours.

A drunkard jostled Emmaline, slamming into her shoulder. Her fingers started to slip from Echo’s grasp. With a crowd this large, if she let go, she didn’t know how she would find them again. Finding the harbor would be easy, but she didn’t know which ship belonged to Echo’s captain. She strained forward, trying to keep that tenuous hold on them. Just as her fingertips brushed against theirs, Echo changed their grip, snaring her wrist and tugging her forward.

“Thought I lost—fuck,” Echo’s eyes widened as they traveled down to Emmaline’s cleavage.

Worried she’d finally fallen out of the low-cut bodice, Emmaline ducked her head to examine herself. Her glamoured breasts remained full and fully covered. But something else was missing …

The silver necklace with the other glamour. Her eyes widened and she turned back, trying to search the ground.

“Damned pickpocket chose the worst time,” Echo snarled. They jerked Emmaline forward, now flat out running through the crowd. “How’s my satchel?”

Emmaline’s other hand gripped the strap, her elbow covering the flap. “Fine!”

“Great, because we might fucking need it—”

“There!” someone shouted.

Emmaline didn’t need to see who spoke to guess that it was one of her father’s men, spotting her now that the glamour had slipped away.

Echo cursed again under their breath and picked up speed.

The crowd finally thinned, providing Emmaline and Echo an easier escape route, but it also meant there were fewer obstacles between them and their pursuers. From the corner of her eye, she saw a large, dark hand reach out to her, trying to snatch her right out of Echo’s grasp.

A crossbow bolt sliced through the air a few inches from Emmaline. Braz snarled in pain and frustration as the bolt pierced his shoulder.

Emmaline looked for their savior, following the bolt’s path.

A woman stood on the desk of a small ship, her red hair billowing in the night breeze. With practiced ease, the woman reloaded the crossbow and aimed toward the next person chasing Emmaline and Echo, pulling the trigger a second after aligning her shot.

Another grunt came from behind them with a thud as someone dropped to the ground.

Emmaline couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder. Nico knelt in the street, hands surrounding the bolt lodged in his thigh. Her heart squeezed at the blood already staining his pants, worried that the bolt may have hit an important artery.

“Permission to board?” Echo shouted toward the shooter.

Emmaline turned around in time to see the woman sneer before she growled, “Permission granted, you damned rascal.”

A ramp connected the ship’s deck to the harbor. Emmaline wobbled slightly as she stepped onto it, but before she could worry about falling into the water, the woman reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Echo, I swear to the gods, if you’ve brought a harlot on my ship for your own amusement, I’m tossing you overboard and keeping her as my first mate.”

“I’m the only harlot here, Captain,” Echo replied with a cheeky grin.

The captain didn’t even need to issue orders for the crew to burst into motion. They dragged the ramp on board before anyone else could use it. Someone was already at the helm, and the sails were already unfurled, and in a matter of minutes they were pulling out to sea.

Hands on her hips, the captain glowered at Emmaline. “And who are you?”

Captain Moira Rhosyn reminded Emmaline of Griselda—tough, no-nonsense, and ready to fight anyone on a moment’s notice. It almost put her at ease, though she worried the captain would be as unwelcoming to strangers. “Emmaline Orestes,” she introduced, still panting from exertion. “I’m …” she didn’t know how to describe herself.

“Everett Shaw’s daughter,” Echo finished, their gaze locked on the distance.

Emmaline turned to look in the same direction, her lips parting in shock.

Her father stood on the dock, his eyes locked on her. The ship had moved far enough away from the docks that he couldn’t reach it without a rowboat, but they might still be able to hear each other if they shouted.

Everett said nothing. He simply watched as another pirate crew absconded with his daughter.

The silence was more disturbing than any threats he might have shouted.