On This Unworthy Scaffold by Heidi Heilig (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📕

AKRA: No.

He hesitates.

For the most part. All right . . .

Reluctantly, he picks up the frayed rope from the floor, but LEO takes it eagerly.

New plan. Tie your feet and hands, just in case the monk gets any ideas. Then when Jetta gets here, she can . . .

He trails off, waves his hands vaguely. LEO quirks an eyebrow as he wraps the rope around his own ankles.

LEO: Kill me?

AKRA: Bring you back.

LEO: Ha. No. Not again.

He shakes his head.

I’m sorry. I . . . I don’t know how you do it.

AKRA: You get used to anything, if it’s a matter of life or death.

LEO: But death is just a part of life.

AKRA starts pacing again, as though his own memories are chasing after him: the way it felt when his soul returned to his empty body, like coming home to find the front door hanging open and a cold wind sweeping leaves across the floor.

AKRA: Take it up with Jetta.

LEO grits his teeth, then double knots the ropes at his feet. Then he starts on his wrists, frowning.

LEO: A little help?

But AKRA has stopped to look through the rear window. A wide silver wake churns behind the ship.

AKRA: That’s strange.

LEO: What is it?

AKRA: We’re moving faster now.

AKRA cocks his head, but the sound of the boiler is no louder than it was. Crossing the cabin, AKRA approaches the door, peering through the tiny window. Where hundreds of soldiers had stood on the deck, there are only a few dozen remaining. At their feet, coils of rope lie in puddles of salt spray and old blood. As he watches, the soldiers tie themselves into harnesses attached at various points to the bow, then climb in silence over the edge to drop into the dark water below.

AKRA: Le Trépas has his soldiers pulling the ship. Why does he need to go so fast?

LEO: To find Jetta?

AKRA: Or to protect the book.

LEO: How fast can the dead really swim?

AKRA: Fast enough.

AKRA’s stomach sinks as two soldiers appear, dragging a living prisoner between them.

Especially if they’re still alive when they go into the water.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Speeding over the Hundred Days Sea on the bone wings of the griffin, I scan the horizon for the first glimpse of land. We’ve been flying for hours, but the ocean is as wide as the night is long. Below, the dark water swirls with souls like stars, and my own stomach churns with worry over Leo.

“Any word from your brother?” Theodora asks, as she has at least twice an hour since we got Le Trépas’s note.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“Maybe we should have stopped for a pen,” Theodora says—also not for the first time. Her hand goes to her own pocket; she’s put the Book of Knowledge there for safekeeping. I explained to her how it works, but there is no way to get ink now that we’re far out over the Hundred Days Sea. I focus on the horizon instead as Theodora shifts behind me. “Still no word from your brother?” she asks again.

“I’ve tried calling out for him,” I say, exasperated. “But he can’t hear me unless he’s already listening.”

“What if you order him to respond?”

“What? No,” I say quickly. “I . . . can’t do that.”

“These are extenuating circumstances,” Theodora says. “He needs to know we’re coming. And we need to know they’re both still alive.”

I stiffen at the thought—in my fear over Leo, I hadn’t considered that Akra too was at risk. He had survived a storm of bullets, a shot to the heart—but my blood could still kill him, and by his letter, I know that Le Trépas has my blood at his fingertips. If the old monk pulled Akra’s soul from his body, I would never see my brother alive again. I stare down at the swirling sea, then take a breath to speak. “Akra,” I say, as soft as an apology. “Talk to me. Please.”

For a moment, the only sound is the wind in my ears. Then his voice comes, and the first word is a curse. “What do you want?”

“Theodora and I were worried about you,” I say, but he snorts.

“Me, or Leo?”

I can’t help myself; at the mention of Leo’s name, my heart quickens. “Both of you. Have you found him yet?”

“We’re together in the cabin of the Prix de Guerre,” Akra says, and I sag in relief.

“He’s alive,” I say, and behind me, Theodora sighs.

“Thank the gods,” she says. “And . . . Xavier?”

I repeat the question to Akra, but he hesitates before answering. “The general is beyond the monk’s reach,” my brother says at last, and I can’t help the relief that I feel. I have no sympathy for Xavier Legarde, but the horror of seeing him raised was not easy for Leo or Theodora. “Unfortunately, the rest of us aren’t so lucky.”

My relief vanishes. “What happened?”

“The ship has left port,” Akra says slowly. “Le Trépas is aboard.”

“Probably coming to find me,” I say. “I got a note from him.”

Akra’s response is careful. “What did it say?”

“He told me he had Leo,” I say. “I’m glad to know he’s safe with you.”

“Right,” Akra says, his voice gruff. His tone gives me pause, but behind me, Theodora leans close over my shoulder.

“Is that the ship there?” The girl points at a dark tide on the horizon—the soulless depth of a bottomless hole—and I see it too now. The Prix de Guerre. But there are lights on the bow—a few torches, gleaming. That must be what drew Theodora’s eye. In the flickering light, I can make out the silhouettes of people gathered there. Theodora lowers her hand. “What are they doing?”

“I’m not sure.” Speeding toward the ship, the souls around me fall away, too afraid of Le Trépas to follow. I try to make out the scene in the dark—the white water like a wake before the ship, the figures struggling on the bow. Then I gasp as a man falls, arms windmilling, into the dark water. “They’re pushing people off the ship?”

“Where are you?” Akra says,