Chapter 53
The wound at my arm stings—the white gauze wrapped around it dyed a deep, muddied brown. With the rhodium encasing my hands, I can’t adjust the bandage nor can I check the extent of the damage. I lean back against the wall and hug my legs into my chest.
Somewhere in the other side of my cell door, Golan has my crew. He gave me his word that he’d spare them, but those aren’t words I’d trust coming from him.
I should have gone with them. Should have given Kressa the liberty of respecting her choice, whether or not that blotted her out of my life.
Once again, another choice I’ve made that ended with the people I love in chains.
Sleep weighs at my eyelids, but each time I try to rest, I see my crew being killed one by one. It’s been hours since I’ve been thrown in the cell, punctuated by the steady drip of water in the distance. Dawn must be creeping closer to the horizon—bringing my death with it.
I close my eyes, focus my breathing, and scan my body. My heart beats steadily in my chest, but beyond that I can’t sense my bond with Kressa—the cuffs too thick.
Not that she’d answer my call. I’ve broken her trust and betrayed her in every way possible.
If I were her, I’d drop the guillotine myself.
The groaning of hinges echoes through the dark dungeon, and I stiffen against the cold stone wall. “Who’s there?”
Even if it were morning, no light penetrates this deep into the castle. But by my count, my execution should still be at least a few hours away. No one has any reason to come in here.
My heart rattles, and I lean an ear toward the abyss, but there’s no answer. Only the faint whisper of footsteps against the floor.
A match flares to life, and the glowing ball of flame lights the space enough for me to make out a face.
“Kressa?” I breathe, shoving myself to my feet.
She lights the tip of a taper candle and steps forward, cupping the flame with her hand. “I was planning to come sooner, but my father ordered me to remain with him and plan for how we’d attack Amoren.”
I press my forehead against the rungs and blow out a breath. “I’m so sorry. You understand why I had to tell him about the location, right?”
My question goes unanswered, nipping at the ache already burrowed into my chest.
“I’ve ruined everything,” I whisper as a single tear breaks free from my eyes. “Maybe this is what’s best for everyone.”
She dips a hand into her pocket and pulls out a key. “No, Briar. We need you.” She slots it into the keyhole, and her gaze flicks up, meeting mine. “I need you.”
My breath catches, and she unlocks the cell, swinging the door open.
“We don’t have much time,” she says, pocketing the key. “My father will be awake at sunrise for your execution, and we have to be well out of the harbor by then.”
I stand, frozen. “After everything, you’re helping me?”
She pulls her lip between her teeth. “After everything, I’m doing what needs to be done.”
Swallowing, I step out of the cell and follow in her wake. “But what about the cuffs?” The chain swings between my shackled hands, the individual links tapping against each other.
She glances over her shoulder. “I couldn’t manage to get the key for those. But we’ll find a way to get them off once we get you to safety.”
We reach the door to the dungeon, and I stagger to a stop. “But my crew. We have to go get them.”
Wrapping a hand around my upper arm, she shakes her head and drags me alongside her. “We don’t have enough time. We’ll come back for them, I promise. Once you’re out, your crew will be Golan’s only bartering chip. He won’t kill them.”
Her honeyed eyes meet mine, but the gold flecks that typically swim within her irises are gone—as if I’ve pulled the life from them.
I swallow and give her a curt nod. “Okay.”
Right now, the best thing I can do for my crew is listen to Kressa. I need to trust her and prove that I can be trusted.
We weave through the castle and descend the steps of the main staircase. In all the times she has snuck me through the castle, it’s been through secret corridors or the servants’ passage. But in the small hours of the night, there’s not a single guard to stop us.
She opens the front door a crack, and we slip into the night air. The courtyard opens before us—the moonlight spilling like a beacon onto the cobblestone.
At the opposite end, a carriage waits.
“Come on,” she whispers, pulling me behind her.
I pin my attention to my footsteps, maintaining my balance over the slick, uneven stones. We reach the carriage, and Kressa unlatches the door, pulling it open.
The green velvet interior waits, and I spare a glance at her. “Aren’t you getting in with me?”
She tilts her chin toward the seat at the front. “Someone has to drive.”
I inch closer to the door, and my eyes fall to her lips as she drags the bottom one between her teeth. Our gazes meet, and the air charges between us.
She cups my face and leans in, pressing a featherlight kiss to my lips. My breath catches, but an ache spreads over the breadth of my shoulders. There’s a dullness to her touch—something lacking, as if she wants to console me without letting herself get too close.
I can’t blame her.
Pulling away, she ushers me into the interior and closes the door behind me. I settle against the padded bench seat and rest my temple against the cool glass window. The carriage shifts slightly, then the snap of a whip as we lurch forward, away from the castle.
Ignata passes by in a blur, and I brace my shoulder against the door, cradling my injured arm as we bounce over the streets.
My heart races, and I gnaw on my lip as I stare out of the sliver of window behind the driver’s seat.
I can barely make out the ankle of Kressa’s boots as she guides the horses toward the harbor.
If anyone were to look out their window, they’d notice her immediately. And if word got to her father about what she’s done—he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her alongside me.
The homes give way to the waterfront. Docks jut out of the rocky shoreline, and the moon reflects onto the still water.
Kressa eases the carriage to a stop at the farthest dock, where a small rowboat bobs at the end. She jumps from the seat, and a moment later, the door swings open.
“We have no time to waste,” she breathes.
I scoot myself toward the door, and she cups my elbow as I lower my feet onto the ground. “What will your father do if he finds out what you’ve done?”
“He won’t.” She takes off toward the rowboat, her footsteps tapping against the wooden planks.
“How do you know?”
She halts in her tracks and whirls on me—her eyes piercing. “Because I poisoned him at dinner, before he went to bed. Come morning, his maid will enter his quarters, confused why he isn’t stirring.” Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “She’ll find him dead.”
My eyes widen. “Then what are we doing? Let’s go back and get my crew, or find an advisor to coronate you. Kressa, you’re the heir.”
She shakes her head and continues down the dock, giving me no choice but to run after her.
“You don’t understand,” she says as we reach the small boat. “I’m the heir, yes. But even with me on the throne, the advisors would never allow you to live. Not after everything you’ve done.”
Her eyes flash in warning, and I swallow on a nod. She holds out a hand and eases me into the hull of the rowboat. It sways as she steps in behind me and unravels the ropes tethering us to the dock.
“I’m going to fix this,” I whisper.
She settles onto the front bench and takes up an oar in each hand. “I know you will, Briar.”
Silence settles between us as she rows us out of the harbor and into the winding channel. I scan the shoreline, searching for a hint of Isolde or her falcon. So much has happened since her falcon attacked the guard who captured me.
But I suck in a cheek as my chest tightens. Maybe that wasn’t her falcon after all, but a strange coincidence. Some birds are known to attack at random.
The channel widens, and the still water turns to churning waves as we break through the inlet. Sea spray mists my face, dampening my hair, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.
I may have rhodium on my hands, but the sea will always be my home. A lover, waiting to welcome me back.
A dense fog covers the horizon, and I narrow my eyes, scanning the surface. “Do you have a ship waiting?”
She doesn’t answer. The hair lifts on the back of my neck, and a shiver runs down my spine. We rock on the waves, and seawater splashed into the hull, soaking my pants to the ankle. It sprays onto my arm, and I wince as salt stings my wound.
“There,” Kressa breathes, shoving the oars into the churning water.
She turns the rowboat, and a heartbeat later, the form of a ship materializes in the fog. Its masts spear into the sky, and as we get closer, I make out the sea-worn wheel at the helm.
My brows pull together, and an acute knowing settles into the space between my ribs. The statue clinging to the bow, the worn railing circling the deck—
I know this ship. I know it better than I know myself.
The fog clears enough for me to make out her name etched into the knotted planks of the hull.
The Twelfth Night.
I gasp and shift forward, bracing my arms against Kressa’s back as I stand. “Where was it? How did you—”
A figure stands at the railing, and the air leaves my lungs. Blonde hair twists in the breeze, and she curls her pale fingers around the wooden rail.
Isolde.
My heart jackhammers against my chest, and my balance falters. The back of my knees slams into the bench seat as Isolde throws a rope overboard. Kressa catches it and twists it around a hook in the rowboat. Then a second rope that she ties around the back.
“Kressa?” I breathe. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes hold mine, and a vise clamps around my windpipe as her face shifts. Her skin ripples over bone, and her hair shortens, the color darkening to a jet black.
Gemma stares at me—the glamour wiped from her.
“Where’s Kressa?” I scream, lunging forward.
A blast of air shoves me back, and my spine slams against the back of the rowboat. I groan, but the pain is dulled by a ringing in my ears.
I force myself upright onto my elbows. A weightlessness takes over the rowboat as Isolde turns the pulley, lifting us out of the water.
Gemma’s face hovers over mine, and her eyes narrow into slits. “I never should have agreed to help you during The Gales. You took everything away from me.”
I open my mouth to speak, but the rowboat jerks to a stop. Before I have a chance to stand, Gemma wraps her hand around my chains and forces me upright.
Isolde fills my vision, and she steps into the gap in the railing, offering out a hand. “It’s about time you showed up. I was beginning to worry I’d never get you back.”
A sour taste floods my mouth, and I inch a step back. But she reaches out and wraps her fist around my chains.
“I found your ship,” she croons, pulling me onto the deck. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
The light reflecting off the sea catches on her mottled scar, and her near-white eyes hold mine.
I scan the deck, lingering on the knots in the planks and the small divots from where blades have buried into the wood over the years. But it’s different. She feels different. Without my power and my crew, the ship bears none of the strength I gave her.
“Why are you doing this?” I say, baring my teeth. “I thought we were working together.”
She clicks her tongue and pulls me toward the main mast. “I’m going to finish what Caelus started.”
Another chain protrudes from the mast—secured with a bolt into the wooden column. A book rests on a low table beside it, and a pit opens in my stomach.
It’s the book Caelus had.
I go to run, but Isolde lifts a hand, and a blast of air shoves my back against the mast. The air shoots from my lungs, and another blast knocks my legs out from under me. I wheeze, and Gemma wraps the chain around my middle, securing me to the wood.
Isolde leans over me, blotting out my vision. “Oh, my Briar, I’m going to bind you to me.”