Chapter 18
Isit on the edge of the wooden crate in the corner of my room, watching the sea pass through the porthole.
This far down, the water is too dark to distinguish whether it’s the middle of the night or the small hours of the morning.
I’ve lost track of time—the hours a blur.
I tried knocking on the walls, speaking in some sort of code to Celia in the room beside me.
But that faded long ago, our attempts futile.
When the anchor lifted and the ship groaned through the water, I tried lying on the hammock, determined to rest and save energy for whatever the morning has to offer.
But no sleep came. Thoughts warred with my mind.
The rest of my crew, left behind. My court, fighting in a losing war without a leader.
Kressa, in bed with someone else.
I press my gloved fists into my temples. The temptation is there—to rip them off and command the sea. Remind Kressa and Nicole and everyone else aboard this ship that I was once the feared Princess of the Sea. My name bore respect. Demanded it, in fact.
And now?
With the anger rolling through my body, taking these gloves off would only prove I’m incapable of controlling myself.
Letting out a sigh, I lean back and let my head settle against the wall as I trace the gaps in the planks overhead.
The ship rocks, swaying the hammock on the other side of the small room.
We must be in open sea by now, or at least far enough for Isolde to go untraced by the surveillance around Ignata.
Boots pound on the deck, and I jerk to my feet, tipping my gaze to the sound.
I follow it across the ceiling, the steps heading toward the helm.
Another pair joins them. My pulse quickens, and throw myself toward the porthole, pressing my face against the cool glass.
But no slivers of light make it this far down—no hint of what’s going on above deck.
Shouts sound out.
It can only be one thing. Isolde.
My heart leaps into my chest, and I lunge toward the door, wrapping a hand around the iron handle. Against Kressa and Nicole, Isolde will need my help.
A screech pierces the air—and I throw my hands over my ears, wincing as the keening wail vibrates my skull. Another shriek joins it, and I squeeze my eyes shut, stumbling back.
This isn’t the sharp cry of a falcon, nor that of any creature lurking within the depths.
The screeching disappears.
I straighten, my vision swimming, and lower my hands.
A blast rocks the ship, and I’m thrown backwards into the porthole. The air shoots from my lungs and I slump to the floor as screams come from over my head.
The ceiling crashes in—wood and debris raining down.
Sunlight sears my eyes, and I grit my teeth against the pain radiating up my spine, forcing myself to my feet. I clamber over the pile of boards and shield my eyes against the mid-morning sun.
A roar vibrates the air, lifting the hair on the back of my neck.
My hands tremble, and a shadow shoots over the deck, throwing it into darkness.
I back up, and an icy chill sweeps over me. A set of wings block the hole in the deck, the sunlight filtering through crimson, leathery skin. Veins crawl across the expanse of the wing, and thick muscle shifts as the creature pivots.
It comes closer, and as it lands, the ship jolts, wood groaning.
The attack isn’t Isolde, or her armada of falcons.
It’s a wyvern.
It disappears from view, and flames lick the sky, following by an ear-piercing shriek. A human one.
“Kressa!” I scream, throwing myself toward the rubble.
I scan the small room for a foothold—some sort of way to lift myself out of the cell and onto the deck. But the hole is nearly six feet up, and all that lies on the floor are burnt, splintered boards.
The ship sways, and I brace myself against the wall, holding steady at the mast teeters close to the surface of the water. It rocks back, and I lurch toward the door leading to the hallway.
I throw my weight into it, and the door gives, as if the latch had been blown off in the blast. I stumble, and my shoulder slams into the wall. A shout comes from the other side of Celia’s door, and she pounds her fists on it.
Wrapping my hand around the iron handle, I brace my foot on the door frame and pull. Nothing happens. My heart rises into my throat, and I scan the other doors, but they’re all shut tight.
My eyes trail over the wall, and near the stairwell, a keyring hangs from a metal hook.
“Hold on!” I shout, lifting it free. I shove it into the door closest to the stairwell—Elayne’s. The bolt gives, and I rip it open. She tumbles out, and I catch her under her arms, holding her upright.
“What’s going on?” she signs.
“Wyvern attack. We need to get the others out and help, now.”
My fingers tremble, but I shove the key into her rhodium cuffs. It doesn’t turn.
A blast of flames covers the stairwell, heat licking down the steps, and my eyes shoot wide.
Elayne pulls the keyring from my grasp. “Go, I’ll get the others out.”
I swallow, studying the other doors. Thea and Celia’s fists slam against them, rattling the wood. An ache spreads in my chest at the thought of leaving them, but if I don’t help Kressa, the wyvern will burn the entire ship down.
She puts a hand on my shoulder—a reassuring touch, and pushes me toward the stairs. I give her a final nod and throw myself up the stairs.
The harsh morning sun reflects off the waves, spearing into my eyes. A scream permeates the air, and I whip around, to where Nicole is teetering off the edge of the rail, one hand wrapped around a rope, the other thrown out.
Nothing comes from it. She’s reached burnout.
Julian lies crumpled below her—unmoving on the deck. My stomach plummets, and the breath bottles in my throat as I twist, scanning the deck for Kressa. My vision blurs, and time tumbles to a halt.
I don’t see her. Or the wyvern. I dive into the bond tethering us, grasp hold of the connection leading to her, and despite the rhodium—
“Get down!”
Flames shoot over my head. I throw myself to the floor as a wyvern crests over the deck, wings beating against the air. Razor-sharp talons hang from its body, shooting an inch away from my face.
My vision blurs, and I freeze—rooted to the spot as the crimson wyvern lands on the deck. Its long, serpentine tail thrashes behind it, knocking into the rail and splintering the wood. The sun glints off its scales, and in my periphery, I catch Kressa staring down from the crow’s nest.
But I can’t move. The beast pins me with a stare as it lowers its forelegs to the deck, its wings fanning from its wrists. It scrambles toward me and throws me in a shadow, blocking out the rest of the world. A rumble comes from the back of its throat, and hovers its head over me—sniffing the air.
My jaw trembles, my heart a death knell in my ears.
It opens its maw, and rows of sharp teeth stare back at me, some broken and others sharper than any blade. In the depths of its throat, blue flames churn, and a crackling vibrates the air.
Voices shout my name, but it’s as if it’s coming from underwater, garbled and hoarse. The wyvern rears back its head, and—
A chunk of rock slams into its middle.
It tumbles into the railing, tearing the wooden posts from the deck, and plummets into the water.
I suck in a breath and prop up on my hands, scrambling back. A thud comes from behind me, and a footsteps sprint up the stairs.
“You nearly got yourself killed,” Kressa spits, her face filling my vision. Blood streams from a gash at her brow, and she curls back her lip. “If you’re not going to help, go back below deck.”
“I—I heard you scream,” I stammer as my crew mates gather around me. “I thought you were hurt.”
Kressa scoffs, shaking her head, and turns away from me. “Get up. That thing will be back any second.”
Nicole leaps from the railing and runs to Julian, propping him up against the rail. His head lolls to the side, arms limp, but his chest moves on a shaky breath.
Thea kneels beside me and offers a hand, lowering her voice. “Where’s Isolde?”
Celia looks into the distance, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and Elayne pinches her brows together, watching my lips.
I take Thea’s hand and stand, my tongue dry as cotton. Nothing but sea circles us, stretching far into the horizon. “She’s coming. Or she’s with her armada, fighting the rest of the wyvern hoard.”
Celia looks down at her bound wrists. “We’re useless up here, Briar.”
Sparing a glance to where the wyvern toppled off the ship, I cross to Kressa and grab her shoulder, forcing her to face me. “I need the key to their cuffs.”
“And let you four take over the ship? Absolutely not.”
She tries to walk away, but I weave in front of her and block her path. “Would you rather the wyvern take down the ship? Or wait until the rest of its hoard shows up?”
“The answer is no. And if you so much as pull those gloves off, I have another set of rhodium cuffs ready.” Her eyes harden. “You have no control over what your power does. You’re dangerous.”
I bring my face an inch away from hers. “And whose fault is that?”
“You only have yourself to blame.”
The words pierce deep, and she sidesteps away from me.
“Then what are they meant to do?” I shout, waving a hand toward my crew. “They can’t fight, can’t protect themselves. You’d rather let them die than give them a chance to prove they can help you?”
She spins on her heel, hair rustling around her face as her honey eyes narrow on me. “Make no mistake, Briar. Those three are only on this ship because you forced my hand. I didn’t want to bring any of them. If they die, it’s because of—”
Elayne screams.
The blood in my veins turns to ice, and Kressa’s eyes widen at the space over my shoulder.
Time slows to a crawl, and I turn as the wyvern beats its wings, seawater dripping from its snout as it rises into the air. Its black, beady eyes narrow on Elayne, and she stumbles back, her bound arms held awkwardly in front of her.
Twisting its head, the wyvern banks right and shoots skyward.
I watch as it soars deep into a cloud, disappearing from view. A swallow works its way down my throat, and I share a glance with Thea, eyeing the cuffs around her wrists. Hers are the only powers that would do any good against fighting a wyvern, but at least they’d be unbound.
Looking out the corner of my eye, I scan Julian—the keyring hooked to his belt.
Deep within the clouds, the wyvern roars. It spits out a burst of flames, revealing the form of another dragon.
And a second.
And third.
An entire hoard of wyvern shoots from the clouds, aimed directly at the ship.