Chapter 47
The air whooshes from my lungs, and my legs tremble beneath me as I race down the row of cells. I peer into each one, but there are no bodies. No prisoners.
They’ve taken away my crew.
Pressure builds in my head, and my power blooms within my chest, weaving through my veins. Grinding my teeth, I push off from the farthest cell and stalk toward the opening—back to the dungeon doors. I shove them open and pull my blade from my waist, gripping it tight in my hands.
Keeping to the shadows along the edges of the hallway, I creep deeper into the belly of the castle. With so many of the Earth and Sky nobility in attendance, there’s only so many reasons why Golan brought my crew out of the dungeon.
My stomach churns, and I hasten my steps, breaking into a jog. It could be anything from him wanting to show off the prisoners or giving them a public execution.
Or they could be what lures me into a trap.
I swallow down the worry and press forward. Kressa said she would keep him and Callum busy, and despite everything, I have to trust her word.
Keeping my breaths controlled and even, I bring forward my bond with her—testing the tether. Without the rhodium gloves to dull our connection, I press myself into her mind as if she were right beside me.
Where are they? I say.
A door ahead swings open, and I stumble to a stop, throwing myself into a shallow alcove. My heart races, and I peer around the corner, where a handful of servants pour out of a room. Baskets of linens weigh down their arms, but I don’t dare move.
After what happened in Sarenia, I have little trust in the servants and their allegiance to their ruler.
A cathedral in the center of the castle, Kressa says, her presence in my mind like a balm to my nerves. Callum and Golan aren’t there.
How do you know?
There’s a long pause. Because I’m with them, finalizing wedding arrangements for tomorrow.
It’s as if a blade has pierced my skin and slid into the space between my ribs, gutting me. Tomorrow, she will wed. I shove away the hurt, and glance down the hallway. The servants have disappeared.
Sidling around the corner, I venture deeper into the castle. What are they doing in a cathedral?
It can’t be an execution, or to show them off. If that were the case, Golan would be in attendance, giving a smug grin to those below him.
An ache passes down the bond. My father is auctioning them off to Sky and Earth nobility.
I freeze, my feet like weights bolted to the floor. Bile threatens to rise up my throat, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste copper.
And me? I say, forcing myself forward. Where does he think I am?
He has his entire army searching for you, under the guise of trying to find the location of the Fire Court. He’s made sure that Callum knows nothing about your disappearance—and my father wants to keep it that way.
I smirk. If Callum were to find out, your father would look weak.
Exactly.
Her presence fades from the bond, as if she was pulled into a conversation. But she doesn’t disappear completely. A small part of her follows me as I race toward the center of the castle.
I round a corner, and my stomach pitches. Halfway down the hall, a handful of Sky Court nobility stand with drinks in hand. Throwing myself back into the shadows, I press myself against the wall.
“Hard to put a price on someone who can heal any ailment,” a woman says, her voice melodic. “If put to the limits, she could perhaps delay aging.”
I clench my fist around the dagger as a man voices his approval.
“But the one who transports. Think of the possibilities.”
“A shame about the one without any power. I assume she won’t go for very much—if anyone wants her.”
“Oh,” another man chimes in, chuckling. “Someone will want her.”
My teeth grind together, and their footsteps fade as they make their way into the cathedral.
I push away from the wall and take in the full scope of the cathedral.
The arched double doors hang open, and the walls soar upward—windows peering from the floors above.
It stands independently from the castle itself—hewn into the center of a large, circular space, as if the Fire Court wanted their worshipping grounds to be as deep within the earth as possible.
I sprint toward the nearest staircase and climb up a floor, coming to a landing that borders a window. Pressing myself against the stained glass, I peer at the crowd gathered below.
The nobles sit in a semicircle around a stage, drinks in hand, and—
My heart lodges in my throat.
A guard drags Odette forward. She jerks herself sideways, but rhodium cuffs bind her wrists at her back, and the man forces her upright.
An announcer beams at Odette, then turns to the crowd, saying something I can’t make out through the glass. Her face pales, and my heart races as people in the stands raise their hands.
Bidding on her.
The rest of my crew stands behind her, their hands bound. I lean against the edge of the window and look up, scanning the ceiling of the structure. Rafters span the expanse, and I squint, studying the seats beneath the nobles. Then the stage at the front.
A smile curls my lips. All wood.
Kindling.
Stepping away from the window, I study the rest of the wall. A floor up, noise pours from a large ventilation opening. I press my tongue into my cheek and grip the stair railing, climbing a second set of steps.
At the landing, I grip a vertical column and step onto the rail, gauging the distance to the lip of the opening. I’ll have to jump at least a handful of feet, then land on the foot-wide opening without being noticed.
The sole of my shoes shift against the thin rail beneath me. One slip, and I could plummet three stories, landing on solid stone. My jaw trembles, but I seal my lips tight. I have to take the risk. The alternative is knowing I sat by while my entire crew was sold off to the highest bidders.
A breeze ripples from the inside of the cathedral and shifts my hair around my shoulders. Cheers ring out from down below, and my stomach pitches. The bid for Odette must have been accepted.
Blowing out a breath, I bend my legs at the knee and fling myself off the rail. A gust of wind flares out of the hole, slowing me down. My breath catches in my throat, and my hands slam into the stone—fingers gripping the lip of the opening.
The toe of my boots slip against the cathedral wall, but I grit my teeth and shove my foot into a narrow gap. Groaning, I heave myself over the edge and splay onto my stomach.
I press my forehead to the cool stone and count in my head, waiting for shouts to come from down below. But as the announcer introduces the next woman, I force myself upright.
Thea.
Sidling against the wall, I watch as a guard drags her forward. Celia screams her name, but a second guard slaps his hand over her mouth and holds a blade to her throat.
My nails dig into the stone, and I eye the wooden beam before me, stretching to the other end of the cathedral. Ropes dangle from center, tethered to a curtain behind the stage.
Fire burns at my fingertips, and I eye the beam—barely wide enough for my feet. Only the cover of shadows protects me from the eyes of the nobles far below, but one slip, and I fall to my death.
“Capable of transporting herself and anyone she comes in contact with,” the announcer says, his voice booming across the arched ceiling.
Holding my breath, I take advantage of their distraction and risk a step onto the beam. The announcer goes silent, and the wood groans beneath my foot. I freeze, half my weight on the wood and half on the opening, refusing to look down.
But he continues, and a breath whooshes from my lungs. My knees tremble, but I force myself forward and plant my foot in front of the other. I hold my arms out on either side, steadying my balance as the bets begin on my first mate.
I clench my jaw as nobles raise their hands. Thea belongs to no one but herself.
As the number climbs higher and higher, I press on, inching closer to the ropes in the center. I spare a glance to my left, and Ivy tilts her head up, her gaze locking with mine. Her green eyes widen. I take another step, and the sole of my boot slips.
I fall forward, and my knees slam into the beam.
I freeze, my fingernails digging into the wood as my pulse hammers in my chest. A ringing fills my ears.
No—not a ringing.
A deep, mournful tune.
“Oh, the tides are rising. And bound we are toward home.”
Ivy’s voice carries through the cathedral, echoing off the walls like a hymnal.
Katrina joins her. Then Leigh and Astrid. Their voices braid—harmonizing as they carry the tune of the shanty we’d sing at sunset the day before we arrive back home.
The guards shuffle on their feet, and Celia jerks herself to the side, her voice weaving in with the others.
“Through starlit skies The Twelfth Night rides, the day come to an end.”
Collin’s voice—sweet and melodic, joins in. Elayne, Inez, and Odette. Thea, with tears streaming down her face, carries her voice the loudest.
Like a choir, their voices lift above the announcer’s. Louder than the whispers circulating through the cathedral. Loud enough—distracting enough—for me to go unnoticed.
I sing along in my head and push to my feet, holding my arms out as I close the gap to the rope.
“She conquers those within her path, blood stained waves in her midst.”
A smile pulls at my lips as the song nears its end. I lower to a crouch and wrap my hands around the rope as they sing the final verse.
“For those who dare to challenge, shall be met with the depths of the sea.”
Their voices trail off—the crowd silent as they gawk at my crew, stunned. An uneasiness settles over the air, and Odette shifts closer to the people who bought her.
Thea lifts her gaze to me. “Now!”
I leap from my perch and swing down, toward the stage.
The guards shout, drawing their blades as I shoot toward them—my hair whipping behind me.
But before the tip of their weapons leaves their sheathes, I throw out a hand and blast a wall of fire toward the nobles, blocking off their path of escape.
There can be no witnesses. No survivors.
My feet hit the stage, and metal screams through the air as a blade swings toward my throat. I twist out of its way as Odette throws her forehead into the face of the noble who won the auction on her. He screams and drops the key to her cuffs.
I lunge toward her and scoop up the key, forcing it into the cuffs. They clatter against the ground, and we lock eyes for a heartbeat.
“The announcer has the keys,” she breathes, her voice hoarse.
Screams billow around the cathedral, drowning out the guards’ shouts, and I nod. “You get the keys, I’ll help the others. Tell Thea to transport you outside the cathedral.”
Without hesitation, she throws herself toward the announcer cowering in the corner. A guard steps in her path, but I throw out a hand and spear him with a shot of fire.
Power singes the pads of my fingers, burning up my palm. I turn toward the guards and cover them in sheets of fire, watching as they blindly thrash their hands over their skin—failing to put out the blaze.
Odette lifts a blade from a fallen guard and slams it into the announcer’s throat. She snatches the keys from his waist and turns to the others, starting on their cuffs.
Smoke fills the air as I whip toward the stands. Men and women clamber over each other, throwing bodies out of the way as they try to reach the exit at the far end of the cathedral. Narrowing my eyes, I lift my hand and seal the doorway with another wall of fire.
They scream, spinning around on themselves—clutching at their collars and necklaces. I stride toward the center of the stand and descend the steps, smirking as the heels of my boots meet the runner. A handful of them I recognize—from my years of being a courtesan.
How differently they see me now.
Recognition flares in the eyes of the nobles closest to me, and other pull short blades from concealed holders.
One winds his arm back over his shoulder, blade pinched between his fingers, and throws his dagger. It sails to the air, but I lean to the right, dodging it. His eyes go wide, and he staggers back, but I don’t lift my hand.
I won’t waste my power on such an easy target.
My father was alerted of an emergency in the cathedral, Kressa’s voice breaks through my thoughts. Guards will be there any moment.
My heart rises into my throat. I spare a glance over my shoulder, where four of my crew are left standing on the stage, waiting for Thea to come back for them.
We’ll be out. I say.
There’s a pause in her thoughts, as if she’s doubting my confidence the same way I am. But an easy calm floats down the bond and swaddles me in warmth.
Yes, you will.
The fire spreads from the doorways, engulfing tapestries and distorting the air with heat. Smoke clogs the air, and nobles cover their nose and mouths with their collars. I turn away from them and sprint up the steps back to the stage, where Inez is the last one standing.
“Are you okay?” I say, reaching out to her.
She nods. “Yes, captain.”
The back of my throat thickens, and Thea appears, stumbling toward us.
“I have enough strength to get us out of the cathedral,” she pants. “But not to get us out of the castle.”
I tuck a braid behind her ear. “That’s more than enough.”
She gives me a weak smile and grabs Inez’s wrist. They disappear, and I turn my attention back to the stands. A handful of bodies lie on the ground, their chests unmoving from either smoke inhalation or being trampled.
But I can’t risk any of them making it out alive. No one can know the Queen of the Sea has escaped and can wield fire.
Lifting my arms above my head, I pull Kressa’s fire to the surface—letting it billow into an inferno beneath my skin.
Steam distorts my vision, and as Thea appears beside me, I set fire to the rafters overhead.
The wood groans, splinters, then an explosion pierces the air as they fall from the ceiling.
Embers rain down, and Thea grips my wrist.
The world spins to black, then my feet slam into the stone floor outside the cathedral. Smoke billows from the windows overhead, and screams come from the other side of the walls. People being burned alive.
A perfect attack to blame on the Fire Court.
My stomach sours, but I blink hard and turn to my crew. All ten of them, out of shackles.
“Quick,” I say, my voice hoarse from the smoke. “I know the way out.”