He opened them, and then raised his hands to cover his eyes from the strong sun, his wrists still tethered together with the heavy chain. It was the morning after Bodin had escaped Grand Marine. Francis brought his hands down, and saw that he had fallen asleep, sitting up in the cockpit. On the bench across from him sat the towering figure of Bodin, steering the boat with the long wooden tiller. “This isn’t about my brother,” Francis stated, after a few moments. “He wouldn’t be involved in something like this.” Bodin turned and looked down, meeting Francis’ gaze. The monster’s small eyes were almost all white. A chill ran through Francis’ body. “What would make you say that?” Bodin asked. “Because everyone is killing each other…” Francis began. “Two Royal Navy ships sinking the Red Mist. Naval sailors everywhere. And they’re not after me. They’re not even trying to rescue me. They’re after you. You’re the one they want. I saw it in that man’s eyes last night when he looked at you.”
