1 PRISCA
Pieces of Lorian hung in the air, the glacial statue of his body like a shattered vase frozen at the moment of impact.
I’d lost so much. Over and over. But I couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t endure this. It would break me into pieces just as small as the icy shards I stared at now. So I clutched my hourglass until my hand ached and continued to claw at my power with everything I had.
The edges of my soul began incinerating, tiny pieces turning to ash and drifting away. Blinking away the blood dripping from my eyes, I focused on my mate.
Finally, one single second slipped backward. And then another. The edges of my vision dimmed. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. But I used my magic like a rope tying me to him.
And I held on.
I couldn’t fail him. I refused.
But a strange, dizzying rush swept through my body. And two women were suddenly standing just footspans away, on the ship, their features eerily similar to mine.
A sob rattled my chest. The woman on the left… If not for the faint lines around her eyes, we might have been twins.
Once, I’d hated Ysara for not showing me her face.
Now, I knew I saw it each day in the mirror.
This was my mother. My real mother.
Some part of me had hoped she’d made it out of that house the night I’d disappeared. That she was alive somewhere. I hadn’t realized until now how foolishly I’d clung to that hope.
Letting go of it hurt.
The woman standing next to her also looked at me with eyes the exact same color as mine. But those eyes were old and wicked, the smile playing around her mouth suggesting she knew the secrets of the world––and was unimpressed by them. This was the woman who had used her power to age her enemies. The one who had lashed out in her last moments, turning Eprotha’s capital into the Cursed City.
My grandmother.
My mother reached out her hand, as if to stroke my cheek. But no warmth radiated from her skin. I would never know her touch.
“Let go, Nelayra. This is forbidden for a reason.” Her voice was soft. Gentle.
“I can’t.”
Her eyes filled with such grief, my chest clenched.
“I love him. I’m—I’m sorry.”
My grandmother’s mouth curved. “Let the child choose her own fate. Just as we did.”
Both of them were dead. Was that a warning? I continued to pull my power to me, and my grandmother laughed, glancing at my mother. “Such reckless disregard for the laws. It’s like looking at my younger self.”
My chest hollowed. My grandmother’s rage had leveled an entire city. Was such destruction my fate?
“Please, Nelayra,” my mother begged. “If you do this…”
My grandmother gave her a hard look and then returned her gaze to me. “In the unlikely event that you don’t join us in the afterlife, there will be consequences. Grave consequences.”
I’d known that the moment I’d used the hourglass to begin turning time backward. And nothing would stop me. Nothing.
She shook her head at me, and pity gleamed in her eyes. “You think you know what it is to suffer. You will live with the repercussions of this choice for the rest of your life.”
“I can’t save our kingdom without him.” I couldn’t live without him.
Her gaze hardened. “Do not attempt to justify your actions in such a way to me, girl. You are my blood. And I expect better from my granddaughter than a queen who hands her power over to anyone.”
Shame curled in my gut, and I lowered my head. My mother stepped closer, and this time, I could almost feel the heat of her hand as she cupped my face.
“I loved your father the same way. I wouldn’t have listened either.” She hesitated, and then her lips firmed. She held out her hand, and an amber ball of light appeared, the exact color of all our eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she pressed it to my chest, and I watched as that light disappeared within me.
When she glanced at my grandmother, the older woman rolled her eyes.
“Oh, very well.”
Her own amber fire burned even brighter. “Change the world, granddaughter. And heal our kingdom.”
I had the vaguest sense that something had gone terribly wrong. A feeling of…disquiet that curdled through my chest.
Boom!
I whirled. A rush of exhilaration swept through me as the barrier fell, and some of the humans in the skiffs began to glow, striking out at Regner’s fleet with their returned power.
I let out a triumphant laugh.
Prisca’s scent hit me before she did. I’d expected to see elation, but her face was deathly pale. She fought like the wildcat I’d named her, lashing out, her foot moving behind mine in an attempt to trip me.
Something was wrong.
I allowed her to push me back several steps farther down the deck, even as I reached out to cup her face.
The ship beneath us exploded.
I had a single moment to reach for her, to grab her…
Her eyes were wild, and she leaped toward me, only to be thrown through the air.
I twisted my body in an attempt to catch one of her limbs. But she flew sideways, hitting the icy water somewhere on the opposite side of the ship.
Screams fractured the air around me, immediately replaced by the muted roar of water in my ears.
But I was already swimming toward her, saltwater suffocating my senses.
Where was she, where was she, where was she?
“Prisca!” I roared.
Parts of the ship lay burning on top of the water, black smoke further impeding my vision. I ducked, diving deep, squinting into the churning water. My heartbeat, loud and erratic in my ears, seemed to synchronize with someone else’s.
Prisca.
My head spun with relief. My lungs burned like they were aflame, but I let my instincts guide me. Each shadow, each floating silhouette, brought a surge of hope, followed by the crushing weight of disappointment.
Desperate, I clung to the bond between us.
The bond that was fading. I drew deep for my power in an attempt to push debris aside with my wind.
Don’t you dare leave me, wildcat.
In the distance, I caught a flash of white-blond hair, standing out like a beacon in the ocean. The sight allowed me to use the last of my power to drive myself through the water. Prisca was sinking, as if the waves were hungry for her. Her face was as white as a corpse, eyes closed. No bubbles floated from her mouth.
She wasn’t breathing.
Catching her in my arms, I pressed my mouth to hers, giving her the little air remaining in my lungs.
Fight, Prisca. Please.
Kicking my legs to power us up through the water, I kept my mouth fused to hers in an effort to make her breathe.
Finally, finally, I burst through the surface of the water, the cool, life-giving air hitting my face. I sucked in one desperate breath and fixed my mouth to Prisca’s once more.
“Lorian!”
I spared a single glance in the direction of the frantic voice. Madinia stood carefully balanced in a skiff full of hybrids. Likely, Galon had used his power to send her skiff toward us. I treaded water long enough to push Prisca over the edge and into the small boat, immediately hauling myself over after her.
The boat rocked dangerously. Madinia crouched, and several hybrids let out screams.
Madinia pushed Prisca’s hair off her face. “You have to restart her heart. I saw Regner’s healer do it once.”
I shoved my hands against Prisca’s chest, pumping again and again. Her body lay limp on the bottom of the boat. No response.
My entire body went numb. It was as if I were watching someone else’s hands attempt to save my mate. As if it were someone else who leaned down to blow air into her lungs.
The skiff was eerily silent. No one even moved.
I pumped harder, faster, my movements increasingly desperate.
One of her ribs cracked. I felt it like a blow to my own.
“I don’t know what you did,” I ground out. “But you don’t get to leave me here without you. You will fucking come back to me, or I will follow you and drag you back myself.”
“She’s gone,” someone said.
I snarled. Above our heads, lightning split the sky. Where was that power earlier when I needed it?
“That’s the Bloodthirsty Prince attempting to save his mate,” someone else whispered. “I suggest you be very, very quiet.”
Madinia leaned close, checking Prisca’s pulse. Her eyes met mine, and she shook her head.
I ignored her, slamming my hands into Prisca’s chest. Another rib cracked. Oh gods.
“Please,” I begged. “Please, wildcat.”
The bond between us was fading. I could feel it, barely lingering. I clutched it to me.
This was not how we ended. I would never accept this. Could not be expected to endure it.
Movement.
For one terrible moment, I thought I’d imagined it.
And then water poured from Prisca’s mouth, and Madinia was pushing at my hands, attempting to shift Prisca to her side. I rolled her gently, conscious of the damage my hands had done to her fragile bones.
The water choking from her lungs seemed endless. Finally, she stopped coughing. Her chest lifted and fell.
She was breathing.
But she wasn’t opening her eyes.
The distant cry of gulls was a constant refrain. The sound warred with the pirates yelling back and forth to one another as they performed minor repairs on the ship with the cheerful banter of people who were well aware they were lucky to be alive.
The taste of salt lingered on my lips, while my hair had become unmanageable. Still, I lifted my face to the sun, basking in its warmth like a cat.
It had been three days since we’d brought down the barrier.
And Prisca still hadn’t woken.
The fact that she was breathing was a miracle itself, given the way she’d lain so pale and unmoving in that skiff. My stomach swam, and I took a long, slow breath of the salty air to clear my head.
Daharak had given Lorian and Prisca a cabin near her own. Lorian refused to leave Prisca’s side. Anyone wanting to check on her was forced to also interact with her crazed mate. Even the fae king had attempted to talk to Lorian multiple times, only to be turned away. I’d peered into her room once when Lorian had fallen asleep with his head angled on the bed next to her, and her face at least had regained some of the color it had lost.
The barrier was down. The moment it fell, Regner had somehow managed to sink Prisca and Lorian’s ship. Most of the pirates on that ship had died. Telean had only managed to survive because one of them had kept hold of her, refusing to allow her to drown.
But Prisca’s aunt was currently walking around with a strange look on her face. As if something had gone terribly wrong and she couldn’t quite determine what it was.
The rest of us were celebrating. Eryndan was dead, and Regner had been forced to retreat as the humans were filled with a surge of power from the barrier. Rumors from the city reported that humans across Eprotha were suddenly able to do more with their magic than they’d ever dreamed.
Daharak strolled across the deck toward me. She walked with her usual swagger, but her mouth was tight. “I thought I’d find you here. Lorian wants to see you.”
“Is Prisca awake?”
“No.”
Panic bit at me. “She shouldn’t still be unconscious. What do the healers say?”
“There’s no physical reason for her to not wake up. Her ribs are healed, and her lungs have no damage. One of my people scanned her for magic. Ceri just checked her again, and she says Prisca’s power is depleted or suppressed to such an extent, it is as if it is no longer there.”
I turned my gaze to the ocean. The kind of power the woman she called Ceri had wielded was rare. Rare enough that if not for her life as a pirate, she might have been called to work as one of Regner’s assessors. And yet she used her gift to heal.
“Prisca drained her power during the battle,” I said. “Just as we all did. But this kind of response doesn’t make sense.”
Daharak sighed. “Who knows what is normal with her kind of power? I’ve certainly never seen anything like it.” When I directed my gaze back to her, she’d turned to look at the sea, toward the horizon where the barrier no longer kept us trapped on this continent.
“You’re already planning your next move,” I murmured.
“Regner was forced to flee. His alliance with Gromalia is currently no more—at least until Rekja decides who to trust. And with the barrier down, I can make my own plans.”
“Is this about the weapon you’ve been careful not to mention since the day Prisca rescued your ships?”
The pirate queen had been remarkably closed-mouthed about the weapon she’d chased for years. Now that she finally had it, I couldn’t help but wonder who she was planning to decimate with it.
She slid me an amused look. “I have enemies of my own. And with the barrier down, I’m no longer trapped here.”
“Just as long as you don’t forget to take me with you when you leave this continent.”
Daharak Rostamir seemed like a woman of her word. But still…I wouldn’t risk losing my chance to get off this continent.
She studied my face. Her eyes were shrewd, and I kept my expression blank. “You haven’t changed your mind.”
“No. And I won’t.”
“I can respect that. I won’t forget to take you.”
I nodded to her, even as my gut untwisted. I would have to trust the pirate queen. Trust had never come easily to me, but if the fae were willing to trust her, I could likely do the same. “I need to see what Lorian wants.”
The cacophony of the deck began to fade as I left Daharak gazing dreamily into the distance and headed toward Prisca and Lorian’s cabin. With every step, the noise was replaced by an unsettling silence that thickened the air. The ambient sounds of the ship became muted, as if the world itself was wary of what lay beyond that cabin door.
I made eye contact with Marth, who nodded to me as he stepped out of his own cabin. Like many of us, he’d turned grim. But it was especially jarring from a man who had once encompassed the opposite of the word. “Good luck,” he told me.
I frowned at him, but the air seemed to grow heavier and even more oppressive as I approached Lorian’s cabin. Apprehension coiled in my stomach, and I shook it off, throwing open the door.
He turned his head, and I had one second of eye contact with blazing green eyes before I dropped my gaze.
This wasn’t Lorian.
This was the Bloodthirsty Prince.
The most powerful fae on this continent was watching his mate fade by the day. And the strain of it was obvious in the white knuckles of his fists, the wild, unhinged gleam I’d seen in the single glimpse I’d had of his eyes, the sharp metallic tang in the air—as if lightning was about to spear into the cabin.
“Do you need a moment to pull yourself together?” I asked.
“Careful.” The word was a low croon. Clearly, my attempt at levity had failed.
“Prisca would—”
“There are many things Prisca would do if she were awake. She is not.”
And I was finished cowering. Straightening my spine, I lifted my head, relief flowing through me as I found him watching Prisca once more.
“What is it you want?”
That gaze slid to mine again. It was burning. My stomach churned. With Prisca unconscious, we at least needed Lorian to keep his sanity.
“What is wrong with you?” I demanded.
A shadow stole over his face. “Nothing. I need to release some power. That is all.” His eyes returned to Prisca, as if it had physically pained him to look away for even this long. “Vicer has not replied to Galon’s message. He was due to return by now. We need to know the current status of the hybrids—both at that camp, and those who will travel toward the Asric Pass.”
And he wanted me to go.
I thought about it. I traveled quickly, I was powerful, and if Vicer was in trouble, I felt confident that I could help him. Besides, as much as I would prefer to stay close to the ship that would take me to my new life, such thoughts were useless if we risked losing this war and any chance of a future.
“I’ll go.”
Lorian nodded. This was the cold mercenary Prisca had likely first met. How she’d fallen in love with him, I would never understand. But my own gaze drifted back to Prisca. She was so fucking pale.
“She’s going to be fine,” I said. This was not how it ended. Not for Prisca, and not for us. I knew that, deep in my bones.
Because if I was wrong…
“I know.” Lorian spoke the words with full confidence, as if he would accept nothing less. But that sharp, metallic scent had filled the air once more.
Swallowing back the useless words on the tip of my tongue, I walked out.