Chapter Two #2
But as Faros comes back into view, I think of Ronan.
He would come with me if he could—he’d charm Octavia like he charms everyone else, anti-Selaran leanings or not.
But there’s an entire war between us and the journey we planned together.
A war with my own family, a war that we can’t all possibly survive.
This life, the life I’d choose for myself, will have to wait.
I head out onto the deck once more as Octavia raises the shades to navigate the Umbra through a winding passage of the Mara. Larus stays below to rest, unable to adjust to the near-total darkness without the candlelight.
Around the bend, Faros comes back into view. Somewhere up there among the flickers of torchlight, Ronan is waiting for me.
Or at least I hope he is. Gods, what must he have thought when he woke and found I wasn’t by his side? Did he think I betrayed him? Abandoned him? Could he believe that I’d lied to him all this time, that this was part of some plan I had to help my family?
It’s what I would think. What I would think of everyone except him. No, I realize. He wouldn’t think that of me. Everyone else around him would, but not him. He wouldn’t consider the possibility of me betraying him even if I told him I was doing so outright.
Gods, he’s so foolish and na?ve, and I just love him for it so much.
Maybe he hasn’t even woken yet. I slept through the entire day yesterday after the battle last night, but I felt him coming and going from time to time, I think.
He was likely up most of the time, working with his advisors on a plan.
Calling his legions, inventorying his supplies.
Moving up all the plans we made, the plans we thought we wouldn’t have to carry out until more than a week from now, if ever.
Maybe he’s still sleeping up there in the palace, blissfully unaware that I’m gone. Maybe I’ll be back to him before he even knows I’m missing.
Because if he does try to find me, where will he look? He can’t feel me from this far away. I’m sure he’ll suspect my family, but he must know that he can’t break into their war camp and steal me back from underneath him. But would he try anyway?
I’m honestly not sure.
The best thing I can do is get back to him before he does anything stupid to get me back. I head back in to ask Octavia how long the journey will be at this speed, and she has bad news for me.
“We can only travel this way by night. The shadows won’t do in the day. In an hour or so, just before the sky begins to lighten, we’ll slip into the marsh and lie low until nightfall tomorrow. That’s how I’ve tracked Larus. We’ll keep an eye out to see if anyone is in pursuit.”
“That won’t work,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “I need to get back before first light.”
“To your king?” She cocks her head to the side, her expression curious but otherwise unreadable.
I can’t see the point in denying what I am to him. It’s well-known in the court and at least suspected among the common folk who attended the Great Festival. I’m certain Octavia has heard the rumors if she’s been in the area for a few days.
But I also know that being Ronan’s…I’m not sure what the word is for what I am to him.
Being with Ronan makes me valuable at this particular moment.
Valuable as a hostage, a pawn to use against him.
It’s what Larus convinced Adria I could be, and I’m certain she won’t be the only one to realize it.
“I am loyal to Selara,” I say simply. “And Faros is under siege. They were raising the booms as we left. Even with a ship that can cross them, the Gap is sure to be contested. I’m not sure the Umbra could withstand open battle. ”
She smiles as me tightly. “The Umbra can withstand more than you think. But no, I would prefer not to risk her as well. I would like to get you to Faros tonight, but I’m afraid I have only one wind-born aboard. Even if we raise the sails, we won’t make it.”
“The oars, then.” I’ll row by myself if I have to.
“Too much of a risk. Look, once we reach the marsh, you can continue on foot if you desire. They may allow some civilians to pass if you’re lucky, or perhaps if you tell them who you are.”
Oh, she definitely knows. Her eyes twinkle with mischief.
“And you would let me go?” She is Larus’s niece, but she has no loyalty to me. She could use me just as much as anyone else could. She could turn around and take us right back to Adria for a ransom if she wanted.
She shifts and turns the wheel with a hand so practiced, she barely looks where she’s going. “You are not my prisoner. If you wish to walk onto a battlefield with nothing but leather and that knife in your pocket, you are welcome to do so.”
She has a point. Though we wear our leathers for civilian life, the Nithyrian troops wear chainmail in wartime much like their Selaran counterparts, and they’re armed with longswords, bows, shields, spears, and daggers, not simple throwing knives.
I’m not likely to make it long out there on my own. Even less if they realize who I am.
I don’t see what choice I have. I’m not wind-born, so it’s not like I can make the Umbra go any faster. And passing through the Nithyrian forces on land is more likely to end me up back in my sister’s camp than anywhere else. “What is there to do all day while we wait for nightfall?”
“Sleep. Keep watch. Share in each other’s company.
” The way she says the last one, I wonder what kind of “sharing” they do, exactly.
I think she wants me to ask, but thinking about the crew fumbling about together in the dark below deck makes me think of Ronan, and I ache from missing him.
I hate being far enough away from him that I can’t feel him.
I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to be so far from me that he can’t feel me, considering he does so almost all the time.
“Perhaps I’ll sleep now,” I say, gesturing down to the bunks where Larus is snoring lightly. “Since there aren’t enough beds for us all. We can take the watch at dawn.”
“Very well,” she says, but as I turn to go, she grabs my arm. “Wait. Do you hear that?”
I listen into the darkness, but I hear nothing but the gentle lapping of the wake against the Umbra, the slight creak of her bow, Larus’s snores, and the occasional gasping breath. The faint call of a curlew in the distance. The brush of wind through the reeds.
And a low, rhythmic whistle unlike any bird I know.
“A whistle?” I whisper to her. I don’t recognize it as any signal of the Nithyrian legions, but I’m not sure I’d know if it was.
Silently, with almost impossible grace, Octavia draws her sword in the narrow wheelhouse.
Fuck. Did she change her mind? Was she lying to me before, waiting for her opportunity to strike? I stumble backwards, fumbling in my pocket for the knife, but I know it’s no good. What use is a knife in a sword fight?
“You’ll need to be faster than that,” she says. “Larus told me you can fight.”
I can, but with my sword. With my shadows, when I’m with Ronan. Not like this. My only advantage is the close quarters—Octavia can barely move in here without running her sword into something.
But still, I’ll only get one chance before she runs me through. A good feint might save me, but if I misjudge it, I’m dead before I’ve taken a single step.
“I’m not going to fight you,” I say. It’s my only real choice. “Take me back to Adria if you must. I’ll go willingly.”
“What? What are you—you think I’m trying to fight you right now?” She laughs at me under her breath. “God, you’re just a girl, aren’t you? Just a young girl. Go wake Larus, darling. We’re under attack.”