Chapter 7
Less than an hour into our voyage, I beg the goddess Olyra to still the sea. But the Goddess of Fate refuses to hear my pleas.
The ship pitches and rolls like a toy boat in a stormSweat clings to my skin, and my vision sways with the horizon. Hot bile claws its way up my throat with each groan of the hull. I choke it down again and again, but my resolve is slipping fast. I’m going to die on this ship.
There’s no other outcome.
I perch on a large crate lashed to the main deck, gripping the rough wood like it’s the only thing tethering me to the world.
Around me, the merchant vessel creaks and heaves beneath a flurry of motion—sailors shouting orders, boots thudding, ropes tightening.
The Fae chartered this ship and its crew, and cargo fills every inch of the deck and hull below.
I try to focus on the sailors scurrying in front of me. Each of them is human. Like the crowds in Port City, they have a variety of accents and languages, but they communicate in the common tongue.
Almost the moment we moved away from the harbor, Rian and the others abandoned the glamour altering their appearances.
I keep waiting for one of the sailors to panic when they notice the darkness rolling off the Fae with each gust of air that blows across the deck, but no one so much as flinches.
It’s like they don’t see them.
A shadow falls across me, shielding me from the unrelenting sun. “Here.”
A wheat roll appears under my nose.
I meet Draven’s stare.
“Eat,” he says. “It’ll settle your stomach.”
The thought of putting anything in my mouth makes me want to vomit, but I take the offering with a quiet, “Thanks.”
He huffs but doesn’t move away.
Instead, he leans his hip against the crate next to mine, crossing his arms over his dark tunic. “I never thanked you.”
I eye the Fae, my forehead furrowed. “For what?”
“Healing Darius.” Sincerity shines from his typically hard eyes.
“Oh.” I blink.. “Well…you’re welcome. Though I didn’t cure him. Not really.”
If I did, I wouldn’t be trapped on this rocking ship.
“My brother is awake and moving.” Draven shifts against the crate. The wood creaks. “I have no doubt you’ll finish the job in time.”
The healing power under my skin stirs, encouraged by his confidence, eager to try to cure Darius again.
But I’m not ready. Not yet.
“I hope you’re right,” I murmur as I watch an older sailor secure the bottom of the midsail with thick rope.
“I usually am.”
Silence stretches between us, filled by the sea’s relentless rhythm.
“Why aren’t they afraid?” I finally ask.
“Who?”
“The sailors.” I nod toward the busy crew. “Why aren’t they terrified to be on a ship with Fae?”
“Because I told them not to be.”
I frown. “And…they just listened?”
Draven watches me, assessing, debating. Then—
“I have a unique power called mindspeak. It allows me to influence mortals’ thoughts when needed.”
Cold realization pours into my veins. “That’s what you did outside the tavern… That’s why no one reacted to Rian’s shadows.”
He dips his chin. “I can’t maintain the manipulation for long with a large gathering, but these dozen sailors are easy enough.
It’s not my favorite use of my power, but aside from Rian, none of us can hold glamours for days on end.
And we can’t have sailors attempting to throw themselves overboard to escape us. ”
“Oh.” I chew the inside of my cheek, studying him.
The list of Shadow Fae’s abilities continues to grow.
He grunts, “What?”
“Nothing. Just… Why are you being so…nice?”
He grunts again, but the hard press of his lips softens. “You helped my brother. That earns some civility.”
I suppose it does.
Sensing an opening, I press, “I take it you two are close?”
“As close as half brothers can be after being pitted against each other our entire lives.”
I rear back slightly. “Pitted against each other? By whom?”
“Our father.” Draven’s mouth puckers like he tastes something foul.
My chest tightens.
Is that why Draven is so gruff?
He motions to the bread in my hands. “You should eat and rest in your cabin. Viewing the bobbing horizon can make the nausea worse.”
“My cabin?”
He hikes a thumb toward the back of the deck where a lone door sits open. “The crew will sleep in hammocks below deck, leaving the cabins open for us.”
I raise a brow. “Did they agree to that before or after you influenced them?”
“Before.” He flashes a rare grin. “Silas handled the negotiations.”
“I see.” My eyes find the Fae in question.
Silas leans against a cork barrel, chatting easily with two young sailors, all smiles and charm. He looks nothing like the man who pretended to be a human rebel in Verdanthia.
For days, he was locked up and beaten, and I still have no idea why the Fae planted him in Verdanthia. Or why he did the same in five other human towns before reaching mine.
Draven clears his throat.
My head snaps up.
He jerks his head towards the cabin. “Shall we?”
I slide off the crate, careful to shift my weight so I don’t snag the thread of my new gown. The ship sways, and I pitch to the left.
Draven grabs my upper arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll find your sea legs soon.”
Olyra, please let that be true.
Rather than release me, Draven keeps hold of my arm as we walk to the back of the ship where my cabin allegedly sits.
“So…” I observe him from the corner of my eye. “How long is our journey?”
“A week, at least.”
My heart sinks. “A week?”
“You’ll be fine. Just keep food in your stomach, sleep, and distract yourself,” he says. “Meet me in the morning. We will continue your training. That should help.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to insist training will certainly not help.
“Or,” another voice cuts in, “you could distract yourself with me.”
Darius appears at my other side. Windblown hair makes him look even more roguish than usual, as does the open neckline of his dark tunic, exposing the top of his pale, muscular chest.
“Train with me rather than subject yourself to this brute and his dated combat strategies.”
“Those outdated strategies are the only reason you still draw breath,” Draven counters.
Darius laughs. “How about we let the lady decide who she wishes to pass her time with?”
Teasing dark eyes meet mine. “What will it be, Elara? Sparring with Draven and getting knocked on your ass? Or spending time learning defensive maneuvers with a male who knows how to care for a female?”
He waggles his eyebrows.
I drop my head to hide the annoying blush heating my cheeks and notice how Draven’s fingers flex.
“Elara?” Darius prompts.
I lift my chin. “I’ll stick with Draven, thanks.”
Darius’s jaw drops, then he laughs. “Oh, man, brother. Perhaps I’m not the threat to you-know-who.”
“You’re an idiot,” Draven mutters, leading me away before his instigating brother can reply.
He releases my arm the moment we reach the door. He ducks through the opening. Several inches of space separate the top of my head and the doorframe when I follow.
My hands brush either side of the narrow passageway for balance as Draven leads me past a stairwell that goes below deck. We pass two doors on our right before stopping in front of a broad, tall door at the ship’s rear.
“Here you are.” Draven swings the warped wood inward. “Jaxon’s already put your belongings inside.”
I step past him and blink. The cabin is larger than I expected. A heavy oak desk is bolted to the floor in front of the windows facing the sea, offering a dim view of the white-capped waves thrashing below. Nautical maps are nailed to the walls.
A door sits beside the open closet, and a narrow bed with dark blankets is tucked against the other wall, as if this cabin is used more for business, with sleep as an afterthought. My bags are placed on top of the mattress. A small chest sits at the foot of the bed.
I take it all in with a raised brow then turn back to Draven. “You’re telling me the captain offered up his personal cabin?”
“Trust me, the money was too appealing to pass up.”
I suppose so.
I lift the bread roll still in my hands. “Thanks again for this.”
He inclines his head. “Eat. Rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The latch clicks as he closes the door.
I sink onto the bed, surprised by the softness. I’d been expecting a lumpy mattress like the one back home.
Home.
Can I even call Verdanthia home anymore?
Moisture burns behind my eyes.
Even if I wanted to return, I couldn’t. General Ironheart runs things now.
Lev’s father has never liked me, but now that I’ve escaped with the help of Fae, I’m officially his enemy.
Ferria and I will never be welcomed back to the place where we grew up—the place we shed our blood, sweat, and tears to help our neighbors.
It’s not fair.
Life’s not fair.
I force my shoulders back and wipe my face. Crying won’t change my fate. There’s only one thing I can do.
I slip out of my boots, point and flex my toes to stretch my aching feet, then draw my legs up onto the bed. I pick up my satchel and remove the Fae tome. The leather cover is smooth and undamaged despite my travels. The emblem indicating that it is a text from the royal library gleams back at me.
I clutch the book to my chest. I don’t know how Juniper managed to get it back from General Ironheart after my capture, but I thank the Gods for their intercession in allowing the banned text to be returned to me.
I open the front cover. My fingers trail over the Fae language I can read thanks to an impressive concoction Jaxon gave me back in the Forbidden Forest. I’ve already scoured this text for information to help me cure Darius’s curse.
I learned about light magic and applied the information to my own power.
Perhaps this text will tell me more about the Shadow Fae’s other abilities. Abilities like altering someone’s mind and creating incredible tonics.
But that can wait.
I close the book and reach for the second heirloom my parents left behind after fleeing Verdanthia all those years ago.
The small journal sits in the palms of my hands. Unmarked. Unadorned. Simple. Though, from the brief entries I’ve read, that bland word does not describe its author.