“I don’t want to hurt her,” said the Darkling. “I want you to do as I ask.”

“It took me months to find the stag,” Mal said desperately. “I still don’t know how we did it.”

Sturmhond stepped forward. I’d been so focused on Mal and the Darkling, I’d nearly forgotten him. “I won’t have a girl tortured on my ship,” he said.

The Darkling turned his cold gaze on the privateer. “You work for me, Sturmhond. You’ll do your job or getting paid will be the least of your worries.”

An ugly ripple of disquiet passed over the ship. Sturmhond’s crew were sizing up the Grisha, and their expressions were not friendly. Genya had a hand pressed over her mouth, but she did not say a word.

“Give the tracker some time,” Sturmhond said quietly. “A week. At least a few days.”

The Darkling slid his fingers up my arm, pushing back my sleeve to reveal bare white flesh. “Shall I start with her arm?” he asked. He dropped the sleeve, then brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “Or with her face?” He nodded to Ivan. “Hold her.”

Ivan clasped the back of my head. The Darkling lifted the knife. I saw it glittering from the corner of my eye. I tried to cringe back, but Ivan held me in place. The blade met my cheek. I sucked in a frightened breath.

“Stop!” Mal shouted.

The Darkling waited.

“I … I can do it.”

“Mal, no,” I said with more courage than I felt.

Mal swallowed and said, “Tack southwest. Back the way we came.”

I stayed very still. Had he seen something? Or was he just trying to keep me from getting hurt?

The Darkling cocked his head to one side and studied him. “I think you know better than to play games with me, tracker.”

Mal gave a sharp nod. “I can do it. I can find it. Just … just give me time.”

The Darkling sheathed his knife. I exhaled slowly and tried to suppress a shiver.

“You have a week,” he said, turning away and disappearing into the hatch. “Bring her,” he called to Ivan.

“Mal—” I began as Ivan grasped my arm.

Mal lifted his bound hands, reaching for me. His fingers grazed mine briefly, then Ivan was hauling me back toward the hatch.

My mind was racing as we descended into the dank belly of the ship. I stumbled along behind Ivan, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The Darkling had said that he wouldn’t harm Mal as long as he needed him. I’d assumed he just meant to use him to keep me in line, but now it was clear there was more to it than that. Did Mal really think he could find the sea whip, or was he stalling for time? I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be true. I didn’t savor the idea of being tortured, but what if we did find the ice dragon? What would a second amplifier mean?