Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
A s the Arboros shore faded, I relished in the peacefulness of the midnight darkness. The water was a mirror beneath the watchful moon, reflecting a smattering of bright, twinkling stars.
An eerie quiet hovered in the air. I expected to hear the high-pitched orchestra of chirping insects or the caw of nocturnal seabirds, but the only break in the silence was the soft, rhythmic lapping of my oars.
I hadn’t been this alone since becoming Queen. The Crown had brought with it a torrent of vigilant guards, sycophantic Corbois courtiers, meetings with pompous House leaders, and the companionship of my new Descended friends. Even in the rare moments without company, Sorae had been a constant presence through our bond.
But here, adrift in the sea with the flameroot severing my link to the magical world, I was well and truly on my own.
Though the solitude was a welcome respite, I was also overwhelmed by a desire to be home . What happened at the coronation—and everything I’d learned since—had rattled me. I needed to wrap my brother up in my arms and finally tell him the truth about our mother, and then I needed to be wrapped up in Luther’s arms and hear his stoic assurance that no matter how bleak things seemed, we would face it, and defeat it, together.
I gazed out toward home, my chest warming as I imagined the relief those reunions would bring.
But they would not come soon. The distance to Lumnos was significant, and I could only row so fast on my own. I would need a strong wind to come along to catch my sail. Even then, I would have to risk pulling my boat to shore to rest and sleep.
That would be the most dangerous part of my trip. A visit by a Crown without invitation was a severe act of aggression. Setting even a foot onto the soil of another realm could earn my execution.
I weighed the risk of stopping in Faunos. Its Queen had been friendly when we’d met on Coeur?le. Perhaps with the flameroot muffling my magic, she wouldn’t see my presence as a threat—but after my disastrous coronation and the Crowns’ decision not to negotiate for my release, betting on goodwill from any of them was a dangerous wager.
My journey by sea would have to suffice.
I wondered, with a twinge of worry, how Brecke would make his own escape. He could purchase safe passage to the north at the port in Umbros, but to get there, he would have to bypass the vast deserts of Ignios.
Mortals were entirely forbidden within the Ignios borders, even on the Ring Road. Brecke would have to sail past its coast, a dangerous proposition when one wrong gust could bring him within the reach of their infamously ruthless Descended.
I sent out a silent prayer for his safe journey. His kindness despite my revelation as a Descended gave me hope that the peaceful future I dreamed of might not be so impossible after all.
The beginnings of a breeze kissed my cheeks, so I pulled in the oars and unfurled the flaxen sail wrapped around the center mast. Thankfully, my father had built a similar vessel for fishing and taught Teller and I to maneuver it, though my energetic spirit had never taken to the long, tranquil hours on the water like my brother. I had been all too happy to let it become their father-son bonding ritual while my own sailing skills rusted.
I forced myself to wade through that painful vault of memories, latching onto the sound of my father’s voice barking instructions at me one afternoon as our little boat wobbled.
Your sail is flapping, Diem—tighten the mainsheet. Good, see how much faster we’re moving? Now mind the boom, the wind is shifting. Your head, Diem, watch your head!
I grinned at the memory. The wind that day had been strong, and I’d been so exhilarated by our speed that I hadn’t noticed when the changing breeze had sent the sail swinging back across the boat—and taking me with it.
That’s a mistake you only make once , my father had teased as he’d hauled me out of the water, soaked and sputtering.
I fought the bittersweet grief that accompanied every thought of him as I pulled on the ropes. The wind quickly filled the sail and dragged me into a brisk pace.
Arboros faded away, and I nudged the boat’s tiller to follow the shoreline. It would be faster to venture out into the open sea and straight for Lumnos, but without a compass to guide me, I could easily end up lost.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. The sail flapped loudly, then filled again from the other direction. I ducked just in time to miss the wooden beam flying over the top of my head. The boat began to rotate as the bow swung in a wide circle back toward the shore.
That was odd . Changing winds were normal, but I’d never felt a shift like that—never so extreme, so abrupt.
I scrambled to reset my course. By the time I’d managed to turn the boat and reset my ropes, I was nearly back to Arboros.
The breeze slowed, then stilled. The water turned glassy, and my dinghy bobbed in place. I sighed irritably and debated returning to oars, but no sooner had I reached for them than the wind picked back up, gusting so fiercely that my unbound hair swirled in my face.
I brushed it back with one hand and wrestled the ropes with the other in an awkward attempt to set the boat back on a path for deeper waters.
Before I could finish, the wind switched again. The sail went flying, and I couldn’t adjust in time to avoid the thick wooden pole of the boom smacking against the side of my head.
“By the Flames,” I hissed. I slumped into the floor of the boat and rubbed at my scalp until the stars stopped swimming in my vision. “ Fine . No sailing tonight.”
I carefully stood and lowered the sail, then began securing it to the mast. I was so focused on my task that I nearly toppled overboard when the boat struck land. I looked back to discover that I’d already run ashore on the Arboros coast.
I frowned down at the waves lapping along the shoreline. “Impossible,” I murmured to myself. “The water wasn’t moving that quickly.”
I pushed off the sandy beach, then started rowing back out to sea. Rather than cutting smoothly through the water, my oars shuddered as if being dragged through mud. I grunted and threw my strength into fighting through it, winning a small bit of distance, but the second I stopped to catch my breath, the current swept me back toward land.
I looked around, at a loss for words. Powerful rip currents could indeed drag you out to sea in seconds, but I hadn’t imagined one could pull you so forcefully to shore, especially in such calm waters.
I shoved off land once more and turned my boat crossways, attempting to row myself out of whatever bizarre current was determined to keep me from the sea. With considerable effort, I managed to put some distance between myself and the shore.
I let out a winded breath, laughing to myself at the absurdity of the situation. Nature seemed to have pit itself against me. It was almost as if some supernatural force was telling me to—
Thunk.
Splash.
Without warning, the dinghy tipped, dumping me into the freezing water. The cold stole the breath from my lungs, and I gasped for air as all my supplies sank into the water and disappeared.
“ Damn it ,” I shouted. “What in the tundras of hell am I supposed to do now?”
Seething, I dragged the boat back into shallow water. Weapons I could maybe survive without, but no food or fresh water? That would require constant trips to the mainland to hunt and forage, putting me at even higher risk of being caught and cutting my sailing time down to slivers.
I’d be lucky to make it home in a month, if I survived the trip at all.
I waded back to shore and collapsed onto the sand, panting for breath. If I returned to the Guardians, Brecke’s sacrifice would have been for nothing, and Cordellia might not risk helping me a second time.
She’d mentioned moving her camp—if I could stay hidden long enough for them to leave, I could bide my time until the flameroot wore off enough to summon Sorae to take me home.
But the Guardians had a second godstone bolt. If the new campsite was close enough to see Sorae arrive, could I trust Dell not to use it?
Was that a risk I was willing to take?
Rustling in the trees caught my ear, then voices. I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the tree line, diving into the foliage just as a group emerged onto the beach.
“They didn’t take it,” one of them yelled. “The boat’s still here.”
“They must have gone inland instead,” another said.
“Wait—why is the sail dripping?”
The group walked closer to the boat. I edged behind a nearby tree trunk, crouching lower as they approached.
“The ropes are wet.”
“There’s water in the floor. Maybe they capsized trying to get away.”
“If so, they can’t be far. You—go tell Mother Dell. Everyone else, spread out in pairs and start searching. Remember what the Mother said—take her alive if you can, but kill her if you must.”
Well , shit. This complicated matters. I needed to get out of here fast.
I paused. Brecke and I had passed horses tied up on the outskirts of camp. If I could free one while everyone was distracted with the search, I could ride away before the Guardians had time to catch up.
That, at least, gave me a much-needed burst of confidence. I’d grown up sneaking through the woodlands of Lumnos. I’d learned how to conceal myself to hunt with my father and creep up on Henri or Teller unseen.
The forest had been my playground, and though these were not the familiar trees of Lumnos, I felt at ease among them all the same.
My eyes narrowed in on the woman who’d been tasked with returning to camp. On featherlight feet, I crawled out from my hiding place and followed her into the forest.
It was almost too easy. Though my seawater-drenched clothes made me slow and noisy, the woman’s single-minded focus had her distracted, and her hurried thrashing through the foliage was loud enough to conceal my squelching footsteps from the other Guardians we passed.
The glow of the camp grew nearer. I was surprised at how few mortals I saw. With a rogue Guardian and a Descended prisoner gone missing, I expected the woods to be swarming, but there was hardly a soul in sight.
Perhaps the gods were looking out for me, after all.
As the woman sprinted through the tents, I broke away and headed for the horses. To my dismay, they were already in the process of being saddled, no doubt to aid in the search.
I needed a head start on my escape to avoid a fight with the mortals that might turn bloody. If I could get my hands on a sharp blade, I could slice the straps on the other saddles to sabotage the horses.
Beside the corral, two mortals stood together with heads stooped, talking excitedly. I crept along a row of small hay bales until their whispers grew into words.
“That is good news, but how does it change the plan?” one asked. “Should I keep readying the horses?”
“Hold for now,” the other said, “Mother Dell says we’re not leaving until we decide what to do.”
“But if the other two got away, shouldn’t we be moving? They know where we are. If that Queen comes back here—”
“Dell thinks she won’t. I have to get back—you stay with the horses.”
“Wait, I want to go see the—”
One of the figures jogged away. “Stay there!”
The other followed behind a few steps, crossing their arms and craning their neck for a better view. Just beyond their silhouette, a large crowd of Guardians had gathered around the central fire, shouting and cheering.
I swore as a quick glance around the corral revealed nothing helpful. I would have to go scavenging for a blade in the tents.
With the Guardian on watch still preoccupied by the commotion at the campfire, I slipped past them into the heart of the camp.
Nearby, pained cries hooked my attention. At the infirmary I’d seen earlier, several mortals lay sprawled on bedrolls, their bodies coated in layers of gauze that I knew concealed dragonfyre-scorched flesh.
At the center, a man sat on a large boulder with his head drooping low. His left arm was almost entirely gone.
My stomach twisted. I’d been the cause of these wounds. Even if I hadn’t meant to, even if I’d done nothing to provoke it and could never have stopped it, I would always blame myself.
And so would they.
Heart heavy, I ducked into a darkened tent and rummaged quietly among the scattered belongings. My shoulders sank—no weapons.
I stole a long woolen cape and draped it over me, then tugged the hood low to shroud my distinctive hair and eyes. In these mortal clothes, soaked as they were, I just might be able to pass as a Guardian.
I held my breath and strutted out of the tent. I kept my head low, though there were hardly any mortals to avoid. Whatever was happening at the campfire, it had captured everyone’s focus.
Needing the extra firelight—and perhaps losing a battle to my curiosity—I skulked closer to the crowd.
“Mother Dell, I have news,” a woman’s voice rang out above the clamor.
“Not now, Sister.”
“But Mother, the boat... the prisoner must have found it and taken it to sea, but—”
“Thank you for letting me know, Sister. Let me address this matter first, then I’ll hear your news.”
Perfect —Dell was distracted.
I spied another vacant tent closer to the fire. I tucked my chin and marched toward it with a faux-confident swagger. A few eyes glanced my way, and I forced myself not to falter as I stooped beneath the open flap.
A grin burst across my face. Laying on the bedroll, its dark grey metal reflecting the glint of the firelight, lay an abandoned broadsword. It was bigger and heavier than I’d normally choose, but it was also intimidating as hell. Perhaps that would work in my favor.
With no weapons belt, I’d have to carry it by hand. I pulled the blade free of its scabbard and gave it a few light swings to test its balance.
Behind me, the sounds of shouting fell to a hush. Cordellia’s voice drifted into the tent.
“You’re too far from home,” she said, her tone grave with warning. “You should not have come here.”
“Where is she?”
I froze.
I knew that voice. That low timbre, that rumbling pitch. The dark, lethal calm lacing power in every syllable.
“You’ve only made the situation worse,” Cordellia said.
“ Where is my Queen? ”
My heart seized in my chest.
“Luther,” I breathed.
My grip tightened on the broadsword’s hilt. All my plans evaporated from my mind, my focus now on the only thing that mattered—rescuing Luther from the mortals’ wrath. I steeled my shoulders and turned to leave.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
My muscles locked up as I was hauled back into the stout wall of a chest. Whoever it was, he was tall, broad, and inhumanly strong. He single-handedly pinned my head in place against him as I squirmed to get free.
I swung the broadsword in an arc over my shoulder, hoping to catch his skull. His free hand caught my wrist and forced it down until the point of the blade sank into the soil, then he wrenched my fingers free of its hilt.
My other elbow jammed back into his ribs. He grunted and jerked forward, but his grip on me held firm. He released my wrist and snaked his arm around my torso.
I flailed and thrashed, kicking my legs and heaving my body in every direction. I used every trick my father had taught me, but the man was impossibly tough. Nothing I did could shake his hold.
Finally, I fell still, my heart galloping in my chest. The hand over my mouth pulled my face to the side as he lowered his lips to my ear.
“Blessed Kindred, Queenie. You sure know how to put up a fight.”