Chapter 11
Salt coats my under eyes and clings to my jaw—my cheekbone tender from the blow this morning. I adjust the cuffs along my wrists and wince, the skin blistering from the metal rubbing against it.
Out the window, Ignata sprawls down the foothills, the sunset glinting off the stone rooftops like firelight. People roam through the streets, some rebuilding structures, others sifting through the rubble—covered in a thick layer of ash.
A speck appears on the horizon, backlit from the setting sun, and I narrow my eyes. Wings flap through the air, and my breath catches in my throat.
The falcon.
I scramble from the foot of the bed and rush to the window, my fingers slipping over the latch as I undo the lock. Heaving it open as far as it can go, I press my forehead against the glass, staring against the blinding sun.
The creature spears through the sky, its feathers darker than night, and clutched within its razor-sharp talons—a scroll.
I watch the locked bedroom door, listening for footsteps on the other side. But after Julian led me back here, I haven’t heard Kressa enter her quarters.
The falcon spreads its wings, slowing down, and I back away from the window. It perches on the thin slab of stone that acts as the windowsill and snaps its beak against the glass. I swallow and reach through the gap under the window.
My fingers wrap around the scroll, and the falcon caws as it throws itself into the sky, retreating to its spot on the spire. I untie the red leather from the middle and unroll the parchment, my breath bottled in my throat.
Briar,
Golan has a perimeter around Ignata that is impenetrable. My forces have not been spotted, but I fear we will be soon. If you could get outside, into open water, I can free you.
Isolde
P.S. Do you ever think about those warm summer days we once spent hidden in the garden, tangled together? I do. I miss the sun-drenched smell of your skin.
A weight settles on my chest, and I close my eyes, recalling those long days. The warmth of the sun as it stretched far into evening, giving us the reckless courage to sneak away and lose ourselves in each other. Stolen moments that, at the same time, lasted forever and not nearly long enough.
But things have changed. We have changed.
In the living room, a door slams.
I shove the parchment under the mattress, my heart racing as my door swings open. Kressa fills the space, and her gaze settles on the open window.
“I see you’ve realized that there’s no way to escape.” She crosses the room and rests her hands on the window, pushing it shut. “No sirens to call upon, or the kraken to help you.”
“Or my bonded.”
Her muscles grow taut as she stares out the window. I can’t make out her expression in the reflection, but I catch the way her fingertips clench around the windowsill.
She turns, and her attention slowly crawls to me. “I leave the day before your execution.”
I lean against the bed’s wooden post. “I’m coming with you.”
“You heard my father.”
“Yes, I heard him perfectly fine.” I stalk closer, watching the way her throat works on a swallow. “Which is why you’re going to sneak me onto the ship with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“And we’re going to bring a few of my crew mates.”
I inhale a breath through my nose, steadying my pulse. My plan comes with risks, but if there’s one thing I’m certain of—Kressa will do anything to keep her father from finding out about her fire power.
She scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re out of your mind. I’m not letting you go anywhere, let alone your crew.”
I take a step, and as I close the distance, my confidence stutters. Our bodies were close when I pulled her from the edge of the roof, but the air was fueled with adrenaline, and the danger distracted me from her.
This is different.
Like the air before a storm, the pressure between us thickens. It coils in my ribs, roping around the space in my chest where her power lingers—luring me closer to her.
“It’s not a request, Kressa.” I lower my voice, until it’s little more than a growl. “If you don’t sneak us out with you, I’ll use my execution as a stage. I’ll tell everyone exactly what we are to each other and the power that you’re so desperately trying to hide.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I lean closer, locking her gaze with mine. “Are you willing to bet on it?”
Her chest doesn’t move, as if she can sense the shift in the air. She blinks, and her gaze falls onto my lips, pupils widening. I’ve studied her enough to know she doesn’t show fear—the way she keeps distress so carefully tucked into the folds of her palm.
But here, with me, she’s terrified. The clench of her fingers, the tense set of her brows.
“What are you so scared of, Kressa?” I whisper.
Her gaze leaves my lips, skates over the bridge of my nose, and meets mine.
“It’s not what I’m afraid of,” she breathes, “but who.”
Honeyed flecks of gold swim in her irises, and beneath the rhodium, warmth gathers deep in my core. Something shifts in her eyes, and she lifts a hand, hovering it in midair. She reaches for my temple and a strand of hair that has fallen free from my low bun.
She closes her hand into a fist and looks away.
The tension between us snaps, leaving an icy chill to the air.
“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do,” she says, her voice hard as she pushes away from the window. “How dangerous it could be. If we’re caught, my father will execute you and your entire crew.”
“So you’re considering it?”
She answers with silence, but we both know it’s a proposition she can’t refuse.
I grit my teeth. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me. I can promise you that.”
“I have no doubt about that, Briar. You took your entire crew down with you a decade ago, remember? And they’re still living with the consequences.”
A pit forms in my stomach, threatening to swallow me whole. “And I will die if it means making up for what I did. I don’t care what happens to me, not anymore. But I have to find Inez, and you’re not going without me.”
My voice catches on the final word, and I swallow it back, but it’s too late. Kressa’s expression hardens—not a trace of empathy.
She strides toward the door. “I’ll think about it.”
Before I have a chance to get in another word, she leaves and slams the door behind her. The key fits into the lock and turns.
I lunge for the mattress and pull out the scroll, flattening it against the nightstand as I watch the doorknob. My fingers tremble as I scribble a response.
I’ll be there in two day’s time.
-B
P.S. My fondest memories are of your laughter. Pulling twigs from your hair. Your courage.
I stare at the final words, the breath bottled in my lungs.
Something squeezes in my chest, but I ignore it and wind the scroll tightly, securing the string of leather around it.
There’s a piece of me that misses those warm, easy days with Isolde.
But they were all on borrowed time while my crew suffered.
I ease the window open slowly, careful not to make a sound. The falcon lifts its head and jumps from its perch, soaring toward me.
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I push the scroll through the narrow gap. The creature scoops it into its claws and disappears into the twilight.
If all goes as planned, in two days I’ll finally taste freedom.