Chapter 61
61
T he morning light started to drip into Tristen’s cabin, and I felt Tristen’s body curled around mine, his arm pulling me to him. I nestled into his embrace, not wanting the dawn to disrupt our slice of paradise as my ring glinted in the morning rays, tossing glints of blue light from the sapphires that shone from where they were inlaid in the gold of the ring around the diamond. We would be arriving in a day or so, he had said?—
—but the ship was still.
My body tensed, and I felt Tristen jerk awake behind me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
But I didn’t speak, just threw back the covers and stumbled to the windows.
Instead of the endless sea, the front of the ship faced land.
Not any land.
We were back at the Isle of Embermere.
I turned to Tristen, but he was already pulling on his clothes.
“We’re still here,” I said, my voice strained.
His expression was grim as he went to his weapons. “Everything will be okay.”
I knew it was a lie.
I pulled on armored fighting leathers, strapping daggers onto my body as I hurried out of Tristen’s quarters and joined him and the others as they gathered at the deck overlooking the front of the ship—and the Isle of Embermere, our prison and worst nightmare.
“How are we back?” I breathed.
Tristen turned to Aldric. “Did we lay anchor?”
Aldric shook his head, pointing to something in the water. “Look.”
Tristen and I leaned over the railing of the ship to see writhing, serpentine bodies boxing the ship into its current position.
“Sea serpents,” Tristen said, and he pulled out a spyglass. He extended it, pointing it at the island, closing one eye as he brought the other to the spyglass. A moment passed, all of us looking at him, and then he lowered it. “We have to go ashore.”
“I’ll ready the boats—” Aldric started.
“No,” Tristen said, grabbing his arm. “Not boats. Just one. Only Saffron and I can go.”
I looked at him, confused. “Why?”
Rachelle stepped up, joining us. “I should at least come with.”
Tristen shook his head. “No. You’re staying. Saffron and I have to go and make a deal.”
“Make a deal with who?”
Tristen turned to me, his jaw tight. “The gods of the island.”
“Here, let me look—” Rachelle snatched the spyglass, angling at land.
Her eyes were already looking through it as Tristen pulled it away. “No—it only takes one look from the gods to be able to use their compulsion on you. If you lock eyes with them, they can slip into your body. Remember what happened to Henry?”
Rachelle shivered. “Yes. That was horrible. But why are you able to look?”
“I’m different.”
“What do you mean?” I asked Tristen.
Tristen took in a shuddering breath. “The gods are already in my head.”
You won’t be able to leave this island with what you want most until you win the final trial. Otto’s words rang in my head as the small rowboat was lowered to the water. Had the seer been talking about this? I wasn’t sure what Otto had seen in his vision, but it probably wasn’t good. Tristen and I were both armed to the teeth, but I didn’t know how much steel could do against a god.
When Tristen took me by the waist and placed me on one of the seats of the rowboat, I went to go for the oars—but they were nowhere to be found.
“The oars?—”
“We don’t need them,” Tristen said.
He was right. As soon as we were both sitting in the rowboat, a smaller sea serpent broke off from the group that was caging in the ship and started nudging our boat to shore, circling it to create a kind of current and pressing us forward.
“What are we walking into?” I asked Tristen, who was gripping the side of the boat so hard that I thought it might splinter under his hands.
“I’m not sure. Don’t speak to them, don’t take any bargains, and let me handle it.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I said, and he looked at me.
With true fear in his eyes.
But then he blinked and it was gone, replaced by the mask of catlike arrogance and smooth confidence. “These cranky bastards are just salty they didn’t get their annual entertainment. It’ll be fine.”
It didn’t feel fine.
The rowboat navigated past the rocky outcropping of Siren’s Rest, where I swore I could see the glittering tails of mermen glittering underneath the surf. To my right was Dragon’s Tail, and straight ahead was where the dunes of The Eternal Sands met the sea, the powdery white sand slipping straight into the crystal blue of the Cimmerian Sea.
“We’re going back to The Eternal Sands,” I said, not a question.
“We are,” Tristen said, and his whole body was tense.
Finally, the boat reached the shore, and we stepped out into the surf, climbing up the steep incline to get to the top of the sand dune.
Instead of the endless sand dunes, we arrived at an open air temple amidst a sea of sand. It had four columns of marble holding up a roof, and a smooth floor.
As we stepped onto the shiny marble floor, Tristen pulled me behind him. I was about to protest, but then I felt it . A vibration below our feet warned of a huge presence. A crackling of power that rivaled Tristen’s own. From the dunes across from the temple, he emerged.
The god was massive, a foot taller than Tristen and much wider. He was bare-chested and surrounded by fast-moving shadows that swam around him and sparked as they clashed, like an eternal storm. His eyes were not just black, they were the absence of light, color, sound. Swirling black holes that seemed to suck up everything around it. But when he saw us, he smiled. It was a grin so full of destruction that I felt my body beg me to let it drop to its knees. It took every ounce of my strength to stay standing.
The god stepped forward until he was in front of Tristen, looking down at him. “I thought you knew better than to cheat us of our hero, boy .”
Tristen shrugged. “And here I was thinking that you must have something better to do than watch some stupid fighting ring.”
The god shifted its gaze to me, and Tristen moved to block his eyesight, but the god simply shot him a look, and Tristen took a small step to the side, allowing the god to see me but not get too close.
“So this is her,” the god said, those bottomless eyes boring into me.
“You brought us back here,” Tristen said, trying to pull the god’s attention back to him. “What do you want, Nocterin?”
The god of madness and endings. The god who controlled Tristen’s powers. I held my breath, trying to keep my terror tamped down.
Nocterin tore his gaze back to Tristen. “What, I need an excuse to see my son?”
Son . I stared at Tristen in shock. “You’re a god,” I whispered.
Tristen clenched his fists at his side. “No. A Brightborne,” he said, his eyes still locked on his father. “A human granted a drop of a god’s power.”
“Oh, so you didn’t tell her?” Nocterin said. “Maybe you should stop wearing that useless fucking glamour so she can see you clearly.”
Nocterin waved his hand at Tristen, and suddenly a wave of suffocating power hit Tristen as he stumbled back.
Before me, I saw Tristen change. His transformation claimed him like an inheritance finally come due, power erupting through his form not to devour, but to crown. His jet-black hair unfurled into living shadow, cascading down his back in waves that would make midnight itself burn with envy. His olive skin pulsed with veins of silver-black radiance as though the darkest realm itself ran through his blood, marking him as its chosen prince. But his eyes—gods, his eyes—were where dominion truly burned through, deepening from their usual darkness into something that made me understand why empires fell for a single glance. His twin eyes of black obsidian were rimmed with chaos-fire, the kind of gaze that could break kingdoms and make you thank him for the privilege. He towered even taller, an apex predator, fully formed.
He stood in front me, Tristen, my Tristen, but more . Power rolled off him in waves thick enough to drown in, his presence a gravity well of beautiful destruction that turned heads and stopped hearts. He was still himself, still the man whom I promised forever to—but now his familiar, devastating beauty was wrapped in shadows that whispered to me everything that was concealed. He was now the kind of being armies would kneel for, that queens would start wars over, the kind who made me finally understand why they say only the chaos of darkness could make the stars so beautiful.
Tristen’s eyes blinked—those familiar yet wholly new godlike eyes—and his gaze landed on me, and concern was written in his expression. Concern as if?—
“She should be afraid of you. Afraid of what you are,” Nocterin sneered. “You should have never involved yourself with a mortal girl, Son.”
Tristen had been breathtaking before, but I didn’t let the astonishing power rippling off him scare me. I twined my hand in his. Reassuring him even as I felt my heart skip a beat as I took in the glowing man in front of me.
“I’m not afraid,” I said, and forced myself to meet Nocterin’s gaze.
“Good,” Nocterin said with a curl of a smile. “Because I should take him from you for what you’ve done.”
Ice skittered down the back of my neck. “No.”
“No?” Nocterin roared. “You dare tell a god no ?”
Lightning-quick, Tristen pushed me behind him. A blast of Nocterin’s shadows shot to where I had been standing just a second earlier.
Tristen’s shadows rallied in response, but did not strike. “Stay away from her.”
Nocterin’s eyes blazed, swirling and tumbling over themselves. “The island demands sacrifice. And she is still marked, despite how you may feel about her.”
I looked at my left hand where the blazing fire of The Ash Trials still inked my skin. “What sacrifice will the island accept?” I asked.
“None from you,” Tristen said, backing us up a few steps, still angling his body in front of me. “Let us go, Father.”
“Not until the final trial is complete.”
Fear cut through me like a knife. “I cannot and will not kill Tristen,” I said to Nocterin. “There must be another way.”
“There is,” Nocterin said. “But first my son must leave you and return to the ship.”
“ No ,” Tristen snarled.
“Tell me,” I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Nocterin’s eyebrow lifted. “A brave mortal. Or a stupid one. I suppose it remains to be seen.”
“I’m not leaving her behind,” Tristen said, his shadowfire growing at his hands.
“Then you must decide which of you will die.”
“I accept your sixth trial,” I said in a rush, and before Tristen could do anything, a pulse of magic rippled through the island.
“NO!” Tristen yelled, but a swirling mist encased his left hand and the flame that signified his participation in The Ash Trials disintegrated.
Setting him free.
There was a rumbling underneath us, and out of the sand behind the open air temple, two figures made wholly of shadows appeared out of nowhere—Nocterin’s guards. They disappeared and then reappeared at Tristen’s side, holding him back.
“Please,” Tristen said to his father as he fought against the shadow beings that restrained him. “Let me take her place. I’ll do anything .”
Nocterin laughed, the sound fraying in my ears as if the laugh held within it a kernel that could break minds. “You can do nothing against such ancient magic. Take him back to the beach.”
The shadows yanked him back, but he thrashed against them. “Saffron,” he said, his gaze fierce. “Show them what you’re made of. And then come back to me.”
“I will,” I said, and Tristen struggled against the hold of the shadows as they dragged him down the dunes, back to the sea.
I turned back to Nocterin, alone with the god. “What would you have me do?” I asked, fighting the fear his power elicited within me as it continued to shed from his form in waves.
“Simple,” Nocterin said, “kill the one who would see you leashed.”
Then, Nocterin turned his head to where a man had just crested a sand dune beside us.
Not just any man. King West, wearing other people’s blood on him and murder in his eyes.