With a growl of frustration, Lir sprinted down the beach. He ran as hard as his legs could manage, pushing past the burn in his thighs and calves until everything was numb. He didn’t want to go back. The pendulum was a cruel punishment. Lir had seen it enacted twice in his sixteen turns and in both cases the offender hadn’t made it to sunrise. Lir’s death would be a win for that dead round, Tassos. His brother. But the word had never felt so hollow as it did now. Tassos was not his brother. He was his opponent.

Disdain and rage wrapped long fingers around Lir’s throat and started to squeeze. Nothing belonged to him. He had no power. And what little he’d managed to scrape together had been sacrificed on the altar of bloodying Tassos’s smug face.

And this report would go straight to Aric Athair himself.

The thought sent Lir crashing to his knees, his body suddenly filled only with dread and weakness, his blood itching hotly beneath his skin. He could leave right now, avoid all of that, but without Silt to strengthen his blood, abandoning his Bullet life might be simply choosing a slower death than the pendulum.

And if he survived it, he stood to gain so much more.

Gritting his teeth, he tugged his stolen ration of Silt from the zippered pocket on his thigh and ripped open the small packet. He dumped the contents into his mouth, letting the earthy sweet flavor coat his tongue. A moment later he felt that familiar wave of peace wash over him. His heart still raced, but now his mind felt cool and distant. He could think instead of react, be strategic instead of impulsive.

Tassos would recover. But he would never forget. No Bullet who’d witnessed that moment of violence would forget.

Lir just had to figure out how to make the memory work in his favor.

Tugging at his canvas sack, Lir turned his attention to the dark beach where the trees shed coconuts and jackfruit. Stooping to snatch up a coconut, he caught the barest hint of motion.

Behind him the leaves whispered long and low. Just beneath it, the sound of a foot pressing into sand. Lir dropped the fruit he held and raised his hands to his head, a splinter of fear sliding toward his heart. Had he underestimated Ennick’s desire to be rid of him?

“Whoever you are, you have me,” he said.

No response came. Ahead, the ocean was dark and deadly. The Nascent Moon offered no light as black waves sliced toward him, darkening the shore like blood. Instinct told him there was a finger on a trigger just behind him. A decision being made.

“Would it make a difference if I asked you not to shoot?” Lir asked, curious more than hopeful. “If I begged for mercy?”

“Killing you would be a mercy.”