Chapter 22
The wind picks up as the sun sinks below the horizon and the stars blink to life in the sky.
I lean against the wall, stretching my legs out on the deck, and wipe off the sweat gathered on my brow.
It’s been hours since I sent a response to Isolde, and hopefully she’ll be close enough to arrive in Sarenia when we do.
With such a small crew, I had no choice but to help Kressa sail the ship—pulling ropes and controlling the masts. Even as I was breathing heavy and desperate for water, she refused to unlock any of my other crew members to let them help navigate the ship.
But now, a crisp breeze cools the sweat dripping down my nape. A small flame flares to life, and near the bow, Nicole sits with Thea and Elayne, hovering a small orb in the middle of them like a campfire. Thea throws her head back, and a burst of laughter comes from her.
A warm smile pulls at my mouth as I watch her talk with her hands, the beads in her braids tapping against her waist. She’s always had a way of pulling everyone into a conversation—an innate warmth that I’ve never had.
We’ve always balanced each other out that way.
Both fierce and unforgiving, but in our own ways.
I tug at the hem of my sleeves, unraveling a row of thread. She’s been put in an impossible position, being caught between her allegiance to me and love for Celia. One I never thought I’d put her in.
And yet, I wouldn’t hold it against her if she chose the crew over me. After what I’ve done, I don’t blame any of them. I wouldn’t remain loyal to me, either.
Another round of laughter comes from the group of three, and an ache twists through my chest. I lean my head back and close my eyes, letting their joy warm the underside of my skin.
If I focus enough, it’s almost just like any other evening on the deck of The Twelfth Night.
The nights that seemed to stretch on forever—like if we never stopped telling stories, the night could never end.
“Hungry?” a voice says.
I blink my eyes open. Julian stands over me, and he reaches into a basket in his hands, pulling out a baked potato wrapped in foil. As if in response, my stomach makes a deep, gurgling sound.
Shifting forward, I reach for it, but he pulls back.
“Sorry, but you only get to eat if you join the rest of us.”
He tilts his chin toward the group, where Thea translates a story Elayne is telling.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure I belong over there.”
“Because of Nicole, or because of your crew?”
A weak laugh comes from me. “Both. Look at them.” I gesture toward them as Nicole barks a laugh, Thea’s smile a crescent moon. “They’re having a great time. I don’t want to go over there and ruin it.”
His brow furrows. “What makes you think you’d ruin it?”
“For one, Nicole hates me.”
He shrugs. “I won’t argue with that.”
“And two, it’s like I drag around a negative presence everywhere I go. I’m untrustworthy, unpredictable—an infection, sickening everything I touch.”
A moment of silence stretches out between us, and he drops the potato back into his basket. “This is what the infamous Queen of the Sea has become? A self-pitying coward?”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not a coward.”
“Then how do you explain this?”
He waves a hand at me, and I answer with a weak shrug. “I know where I’m not wanted.”
“You know, Briar, I’m not sure you know much of anything except how to rely on yourself.
You think you can suffer through this alone—pretending like you don’t need anyone else.
But I’ll let you know something.” He crouches and twists his attention toward my crew.
“You need them just as much as they need you. Your strength isn’t what you can do alone, but what you can do with them at your side. ”
I follow his line of sight, scanning their faces.
Firelight pools on Thea and Elayne’s cheekbones, emphasizing the sunburns they welcomed throughout the day.
Something in my chest shifts. Before the curse tore us apart, we were close enough to anticipate each other’s thoughts. Sail a ship without speaking a word.
We were complete.
Without them, I’m nothing.
“Fine.” I push myself to my feet and hold out my hand. “Give me a damn potato.”
He scoffs and sets the basket in my palm. “You hand them out. It may not be an olive branch, but it’s close enough.”
Before I have a chance to shove it back at him, he strides toward the group and drags a barrel close to the fire, sitting beside Elayne. My tongue turns to cotton, and the courage I built in my chest snuffs out, replaced with a hollow, dizzying churn in my stomach.
I flex my fingers against the basket handle. Hot tears threaten the space behind my eyes, but I swallow them down, gritting my teeth. I shouldn’t be so scared to hand out a meal to my closest friends, nor offer one to the woman Kressa once shared love with.
Yet, here I am.
Celia appears from the shadows and lowers onto the seat beside Thea, throwing an arm around her shoulders. She presses a kiss to her temple, and Thea sinks into her, breathing her in.
A tear trails down my cheek. I was the reason why Sarenia fell. Why my crew was captured for a decade. It was me who got us into this, but at least I did one thing right.
I brought them back together.
Straightening my shoulders, I carry the basket of baked potatoes toward the group. A lump forms in my throat as, one by one, they each notice me on the edge of the circle. The conversation stops.
I hold up the basket. “Is anyone hungry?”
Elayne’s hand shoots in the air, and I dip my hand into the basket, passing her a steaming potato.
She smiles and signs, “Thank you.”
“Fates, yes,” Thea says, leaning closer. “I’m starving.”
I hold out the basket, and she hums, drumming her fingers against her lip. She plucks the biggest one from the pile and pulls off the wrapping.
“Celia?” I say.
She holds my gaze, and there’s a silent understanding—that I’m offering her so much more than dinner. How much accepting would mean.
A shadow shifts behind her eyes, and she doesn’t quite smile, but nods and holds out a hand. “Thanks, Briar.”
Not captain. Not yet, but close.
She takes a potato, and I turn to Julian.
Before I have a chance to say anything, he reaches in and says, “Oh Briar, you shouldn’t have.”
I roll my eyes as he wastes no time digging into his baked potato. Between bites, he gives me a smirk—a sparkle deep in his blue irises.
Swallowing, I turn to Nicole. The flames in the center sway in the breeze, and she lets out a small huff. “You’re lucky I’m starving.”
She pulls one from the basket and unrolls it, keeping the fire steady despite her hands being busy. An oily envy coats my insides at how effortlessly she controls the flames. As if it’s an extension of her.
Elayne stands and pulls another barrel between her and Julian. She tilts her chin. “For you.”
My shoulders soften, and I pull a potato out for myself, settling onto the seat.
Elayne presses her elbow into my side and offers me a warm smile.
The lines at the corners of her eyes have deepened over the years, but despite the years behind bars, there’s so much life in her face—the dimples pressed into her cheeks.
Thea swipes the crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “Remember that time we spent the night in Breen?”
A soft chuckle rumbles from me. It was a year before Sarenia fell, when there was mild conflict between the courts that hadn’t yet escalated to war. Small things like boundary disputes or trade disagreements.
Celia’s eyes light up. “We tried to convince the people at the pub that Inez was twenty.”
“What do you mean, tried?” I say with a cheeky smile. “We were so convincing.”
“Right,” Elayne signs. “Before or after you threatened the bartender with his life?”
“Hey,” I say around a bite of potato. “There was no threatening. I simply told him if he didn’t let her in, he may or may not wake up the next morning.”
Thea gasps, twisting to Celia. “I forgot to tell you about the kraken!”
Celia’s eyes widen, and Elayne’s lip part. My mouth goes dry. Even though he saved me from the depths of that lake, I’ve had many dreams where I was left to drown.
“What about him?” Celia says, swallowing a bite.
“Caelus dragged him out of the sea and had him in the first trial of The Gales. Even though Briar was disguised, he recognized her right away.”
The flames in the center of the group sputter for half a heartbeat, then Nicole twists them into the shape of a tentacle, serrated talons circling the suckers. “You faced the kraken?”
I lift a brow. “You know of him?”
“He’s the only thing the wyvern fear.”
“Interesting.” I suck in a cheek, tucking that information away for now. “This was the second time I had run in with him. The first—well, we didn’t necessarily end on good terms.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Celia mumbles, catching my gaze.
The corner of her mouth tilts up—barely enough to be noticeable. It disappears as fast as it came, and I clear my throat, staring into the flames.
“The Gales was the second time,” I continue. “It was the first trial, and it didn’t end until half the competitors were dead. The kraken pulled me into the lake and threatened to drown me, but we came to a deal, and I freed him. I nearly died, and—”
“She saved my life.”
The hair rises on the back of my neck, and Kressa comes into view, pulling up a seat across from me. Nicole shifts and balls her foil in her fist, tossing it back into the basket.
“I wouldn’t say I saved your life,” I say.
She shrugs. “I was your mark. You could have won yourself a spot in the final trial, but you didn’t. You saved my life.”
Thea leans forward, her hair precariously close to the flames. “I told her she was an idiot for doing that.”
“But admirable nonetheless,” Julian says, firelight dancing in his eyes. “I’m eternally grateful for the times Briar saved Kressa’s life.”
“And the time Kressa saved Briar’s,” Thea whispers.
The food turns to ash on my tongue, but I force it down as silence blankets the air. Even the breeze seems to slow to a stop—the stars coming closer, listening.
Across the fire, Kressa’s gaze meets mine, and the world blurs around me. The bond snaps taut, and despite the rhodium the smell of rain soaked earth fills my lungs. The salt of her skin on my lips.
Close your door, she says.
My breath catches. Her voice is weak and faint, like she’s speaking to me through a glass window, or underwater. The bond is getting stronger—too strong to let my thoughts wander.
Climbing into my mind, I cut her off. But the door is getting harder to keep shut—the lock growing flimsy.
“What happened?” Celia says. “When Kressa saved Briar’s life?”
“I took an arrow to the chest for her in the final trial,” Kressa says, rising from her seat. “I died so she wouldn’t fall to her death. Then she brought me back to life.”
I’ve relived that moment countless times in my nightmares—the panic that raced through my thoughts when she lifted her foot from the trap. The promise she broke.
“But that was before I knew exactly who she was,” Kressa adds. She dips her chin toward Julian. “We’ll sail through the night and ride the currents to Sarenia.”