Chapter 35
Rìan rowed in silence.
He guided the sloop through the reefs at the mouth of the bay, navigating channels I would never have spotted myself.
Jagged rock lurked beneath the water on either side of us, rising like the bones of some long-dead beast. One wrong turn would’ve dashed the skiff to pieces, yet he steered us through confidently, as though the sea were no more dangerous than a cobbled road.
Every swell felt as though it might tip us over.
The little sloop pitched and rolled beneath me, climbing each wave only to plunge into the trough beyond.
I'd always imagined my first time on a boat would be exciting.
Instead, all I wanted was solid ground. I tightened my grip on the gunwale until my knuckles ached.
When we cleared the reefs and reached open water, Rìan loosed the sail. It filled at once, straining against the mast as the wind claimed it. The boat heeled gently, then surged forward with startling speed. The sea breeze raked through his damp hair, sweeping the dark strands back from his face.
The bitter edge of the morning eased as the sun climbed steadily above the horizon. The breeze softened, and the sea gradually calmed beneath us. Rìan lifted his face toward the growing light. His eyes slipped closed as though savoring its warmth.
Three centuries behind the Veil. Three centuries without a sunrise. I wondered if he'd ever believed he'd feel the sun on his skin again.
I didn't realize I was watching him until a deafening blast shattered the silence. A towering plume of water erupted from the sea scarcely twenty yards from the skiff.
I yelped and scrambled backward, nearly tumbling from the bench as another explosion of spray burst into the air beside the first. Rìan's eyes snapped open.
He turned toward the disturbance, and to my astonishment, the corner of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly before he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“What—” The word died in my throat as a massive shape rolled beneath the surface. The water bulged upward as an enormous dark thing broke through the sea, glistening in the sunlight.
A whale.
Another surfaced farther off. Then another.
A dozen dark forms moved gracefully through the water around us. Plumes of mist burst skyward, broad backs gleaming before they slipped beneath the waves once more.
Seeing them from afar hadn’t prepared me for this.
One surfaced close enough that I could make out the pale scars and crusted growths clinging to its skin.
The creature passed beneath our tiny skiff, dwarfing it so completely that my heart leapt into my throat.
Yet it slipped by without so much as rocking the boat, impossibly gentle for something so enormous.
Another whale glided by. At first, I thought it was merely smaller than the others, but as it rose from the water I realized it was young. A calf.
It swam pressed close against a larger whale, following her every movement, rising and sinking with the swells in perfect rhythm.
The mother paused as they passed, and for a moment one dark eye broke the surface.
It fixed on me, far too knowing for an animal of the sea, an ancient and watchful gaze that seemed to consider me before she slipped beneath the waves once more and rejoined the rest of the pod, her calf snugly at her side.
My vision blurred as I watched them go. Somehow I was smiling even as tears gathered in my eyes, the pod growing smaller and smaller until they were little more than dark shapes on the horizon.
Only then did I drag my gaze away.
Rìan was watching me, a strange expression on his face. After a moment, he reached for the tiller and adjusted our course.
Ahead of us, the mainland of Elantis grew steadily closer.
The forest crowded thick against the shore, dark and forbidding.
The Thornlands had been home to towering giants that blotted out the sky, trees so massive that a dozen people linking hands couldn't have encircled their trunks.
These were ordinary by comparison, yet they crowded together so densely that they formed an almost unbroken wall of green.
Moss draped from their branches in long swaying curtains and furred the bark in shades of silver and emerald.
Birds called somewhere high above the canopy while insects droned and chirred in the undergrowth. Every so often a distant cry echoed through the trees, strange and unfamiliar.
Behind me, water splashed as Rìan dragged the skiff farther onto the beach.
His trousers were rolled to his knees as he waded through the shallows, the powerful muscles of his arms flexing as he hauled the boat clear of the tide line.
Once it was secure, he leaned in and pulled out his pack—nearly twice the size of mine.
I adjusted the straps digging into my shoulders and tightened the belt around my waist as he crouched and began rummaging through his bag.
“Eidra.”
I looked up just in time to see a leather pouch flying toward me. It promptly bounced off my chest and landed in the sand. Dried meat and nuts spilled everywhere.
“Gods damn it.”
Rìan said nothing, but his stare made it abundantly clear he’d expected exactly that outcome.
Muttering beneath my breath, I brushed as much sand off the food as I could manage before taking a gritty bite.
Across from me, he was already eating his own ration, chewing in silence while staring toward the forest. When he finished, he took a long drink from a waterskin before setting it aside and turning his attention to the weapons strapped to his body.
There seemed to be an endless supply of them.
A broadsword with a plain leather-wrapped hilt peeked over his shoulder. Blades of every length lined his belt, the hilt of my bone knife nestled among them.
“Do I get one of those?” I asked loudly.
Rìan looked up. For a long moment, he simply stared at me.
His fingers drifted toward the bone knife, and hope flared in my chest. They skimmed the familiar ivory hilt. For one glorious moment, I thought he was actually going to hand it back.
Then his thumb hooked the sheath of the blade beside it.
Bastard.
He unfastened it with one hand and tossed it in my direction. I made no effort to catch it. The sheath thudded at my feet.
“I want my knife back.”
Rìan tore off a piece of dried meat with his teeth.
The silence stretched. And stretched. My irritation grew with every passing second.
Finally he swallowed. “It's a bone knife.”
“It’s my bone knife.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “What does it do then?”
I crossed my arms, glaring. “It stabs.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “And that,” he said, “is precisely why you can't have it back.”
He tossed a nut into the air and caught it with his mouth.
“Why?”
He held up his fist, the remaining nuts trapped in his palm, and raised one finger.
“Because it possesses magic you have no understanding of.” A second finger followed.
“And because you've repeatedly demonstrated that you're utterly incapable of stabbing anyone. Together, they form a catastrophic combination.” He emptied the rest of the nuts into his mouth.
I fumed. “I carried that knife across Elantis just fine before I met you.”
He tilted his head, chewing. “And it's a miracle you're still in one piece.”
I huffed angrily. “You stole it from me.”
He stilled at that, but his expression didn't change. “I'm keeping it safe.”
I scowled and bent to snatch the other knife from the sand, angrily attaching the sheath to my belt. “I want it back.”
He watched me for a moment before leaning against the side of the boat and crossing one ankle over the other. “I'll make you a deal.”
I paused, immediately suspicious.
“If you find out what it does, you can have it back.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How am I supposed to figure out what it does without using it?”
He shrugged and turned his attention elsewhere. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles cracked.
“In any case,” he continued, pulling his heavy leather boots from the boat. He sat on the gunwale and tugged on his socks before shoving his feet into them one at a time. “You're an Eidra. Use your magic. It'll defend you far better than any knife, bone or otherwise.”
I scowled. “I'll keep that in mind.”
Pulling the knife he'd given me from its sheath, I inspected the blade. It looked plain enough, but when I dragged my thumb lightly along the edge—barely touching it—a sharp sting bit into my skin. I hissed and jerked my hand back, blood already welling from a cut no wider than a hair.
Sharp. Very sharp.
I stuck my thumb into my mouth and glared at the offending blade.
“Why are you so armed?” I asked around it. “We're finding the Gates, not going to war.”
He didn't answer the question. Instead, he finished lacing his second boot and rose to his feet, his face a mask of renewed intensity.
“There are rules when entering the Wildlands.”
I looked back toward the forest. I'd almost forgotten it was there. The wall of moss-draped trees loomed over the beach, silent and watchful, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was looking back.
“Rule number one,” Rìan said. “We get in, we get out. We have roughly eight hours before sunset. That is more than enough time to find the well, complete whatever task awaits us, and leave before nightfall.”
“What happens at nightfall?”
His gaze settled just beyond the treeline. “Nothing good.”
My skin tingled unpleasantly.
“Rule number two: you listen to everything I say. If I tell you to run, you run. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said tightly. I hated the idea of taking orders from the Dark Prince, but I knew better than to argue.
Shielding my eyes from the sunlight, I frowned at the endless wall of green. “Who rules the Wildlands?”
There hadn't been a representative of the Wildlands when the Full Circle convened in Solmire, and I'd never heard mention of a Wild Court before. As far as I knew, there were only seven Courts in Elantis—one for each of the Seven Gods.