Mouthy bitch.
Alys wondered just how the woman might fare without a tongue to accompany her lack of vision. She’d already considered bursting her eardrums with a proximal shot of her pistol, but that’d likely do more harm than good. Caleb had paid someone for their presence, and as much as Leimor had been a disappointment thus far, the fae had shit to do.
Ronan’s pathetic attempt to distract her did nothing; her gaze remained on the looming giant and the tiny figure behind him, inching closer to plank. Fuck. She needed to get there first - make sure the only way off was to jump into the water.
But the giant leapt forward, howling for the woman to run. Demonstrating just where his allegiance laid: with someone he’d met an hour ago.
The sword remained pointed at the giant, set to impale him, and then suddenly it wasn’t. What the hell was she going to do with a dead giant? Wait for someone to come along to help her toss the body overboard? Have a Leimor official spot it?
Instead, Alys shot upward, her wings sending her above the giant, but she wasn’t fast enough to escape his massive reach. Two hands wrapped around her calves and dragged her down, sending her sprawling against the wooden deck. She twisted her body, wings tucking in sharply against her back, shoulder taking the brunt of the impact to protect her head. A groan escaped her lips, head bouncing off her tensed bicep. The cutlass clattered against the deck, sliding out of reach.
Briefly disoriented, Alys blinked quickly and laid eyes on the small figure now more than half a deck away - a figure who was escaping. She groaned again, feeling Ronan’s weight on her lower body. Squirming, she edged away until a leg broke free. “Get off me,” the fae hissed, tucking her knee towards her chest and then extending, aiming to slam the bottom of her boot into his face.