Chapter 17 #2
I search for the door linking my mind to Orthriel’s, but it’s shut.
Locked tight. Evidence of their waning power.
We’re supposed to be reuniting in Lulana, the heart of Estelia’s growing region, in the space of three moonsrisings to collect dried starfruit for our onward journey, and horses to carry us to the High Hills.
The river there is too narrow and shallow for boats to navigate.
‘Delphine’s always been stubborn, immovable as a barnacle.’ Maris tosses her braids. ‘It’s one of the reasons things didn’t work between us. We’re too similar.’
My mouth gapes.
Maris arches a cerulean brow. ‘Catching glowflies, Princess?’
I clear my throat and study the grain of the decking. ‘I… But I thought you and Blayze…’
Maris laughs. ‘You needn’t look so shocked, oh Radiant one. You Star-Shackled are so quick to label, so fond of your narrow, rigid absolutes. Things are more fluid in the Isles.’
I tug my hood lower. Such things are not unheard of at court. I’ve long had my own suspicions about Izarius – he’s never been bound, always claiming to be wedded to his work. But such unions are not openly discussed, frowned upon by some – including my father – given the plummeting birth rates.
Delphine’s upper body breaks through the surface of the river with a splash.
Her skin’s moonsblushed with a lilac haze, but her hair’s flaming red, and she’s scowling.
Bruise-like crescents smudge her eyes. I thought this time in the river would revive her, but she looks peakier than when we first left Meissa.
‘I heard all that, you know.’ The pearlsprite’s words carry in the darkness. ‘I’m not a child. It’s my decision to make.’ Delphine doesn’t speak often, but her voice is lush as velvet.
‘Fine. Have it your own way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Maris calls back.
A tiny smile of satisfaction tugs Delphine’s full lips as she whispers to the surface of the water. A stream of liquid vowels I can’t understand.
The river starts to ripple. Only a faint ruffling at first, but stronger as she starts to sing.
A pure, sweet melody spreads over the night like honey.
Sugared notes soar and stretch in the darkness, and tears well in my eyes.
Orthriel once described starsong as the most beautiful sound in existence, but I can’t imagine anything sweeter than Delphine’s voice.
My mind slows, my eyelids grow heavy. Maris appears unmoved.
She folds her arms and shakes her head. Delphine continues singing till a cutting breeze whips the air, kissing my ears and the back of my neck.
When the sail billows, inflating with air like a giant pair of lungs, the cloying music melts away.
Maris sighs as the last notes ebb, snatching up the compass hanging from a fine rope of pearls around her waist. ‘I’d better raise anchor.’
I shake myself free of the stultifying grip of the spritesong and follow her over the tents. ‘Are you all right?’
Maris peers up through wet lashes. I can feel her weighing her options as she unties the ropes: answer me truthfully – trust me; or terminate the conversation.
‘It’s a relief to be back on the water,’ she says at last. ‘But it’s made me realise how much I miss home.
’ She drums long, tapered fingernails against her compass.
‘This was my mother’s. My father gave it to me when I passed out of the Maritarium with the highest honours in my brigade.
He was so proud. If I’d stayed in the Isles, I’d have command of the fleet by now.
I had plans. I wanted to brave the Strega Pools, trawl the Wind-Whipped Isles for untainted fish, work harder to protect our reefs.
Help my people. Make a real difference.’ Maris swallows.
‘And I miss my father. For the past five spawnings, it’s just been the two of us.
He’s not well and relies on me. I won’t see him for many tides, and perhaps… ’
She breaks off, but I don’t need her to say the remaining words. I whisper them all too frequently myself.
And perhaps never again.
‘I envy you that. My father and I have never been close. I’m a constant disappointment.’ My gaze locks with hers, and for once, I don’t find judgement in her lapis eyes. She places a cool hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Her sharp scent of salt and snowberries shrouds me like a night mist.
‘I… I hate him.’ My voice cracks, and something inside me breaks as well. The dam stemming the pain of a lifetime of rejection. The hurt rushes out, leaching through my body like a sour wave.
I’ve never said those words aloud.
A throat clears behind us. Blayze is still in his seat, but he’s awake and staring at me with a knowing expression that suggests he’s been listening to every word I said.
Maris snatches her hand from my shoulder. Her expression shutters, turns grim as she hoists the anchor onto the deck with a loud thump.
I don’t understand. I thought we just shared a moment of genuine connection, mending one of those broken threads.
She remains close enough that we’re practically touching.
If my fickle powers can be prevailed upon, I might be able to scry her thoughts.
I grip the side of the boat, bracing as silver freckles my vision.
A connection: wavering but real. Giddiness sweeps through me.
It’s dark, but if Maris notices my misted eyes and buckling knees, I can pass it off as another wave of water-sickness.
I watch our conversation back through her memories. Maris thinks I regret confiding in her.
‘Try not to throw up on me in the night, Princess.’ Maris’ words lash like a whip. She elbows past me, back to her place beside Blayze.
I open my mouth to explain, but I’d have to admit I can read peoples’ minds, something I don’t want anyone to know – least of all the Outrealmers.
Still, I wish there was some way I could let Maris know I don’t regret taking her into my confidence. Because, to my surprise, I don’t.
I have people in my life who I love, but they’re either entangled in court politics, like Izarius and my mother, or kept at a remove by their inferior status, like Elvi. Orthriel is always there for me, but cielsylphs are pragmatic by nature. They don’t encourage me to wallow.
Until tonight, I never realised how much I need someone to talk to.
Again, that drag in my chest. That sense of something unravelling.
By the time I return to my seat, Maris has taken up the lines of the ship. She’s pressed close to Blayze, their legs practically entwined. I look away, and try not to dwell on the irony that I’m edging as near to the hull as I can, keeping as far from my betrothed as possible.
As I settle to sleep, I convince myself it’s only the motion of the ship that accounts for the tightening in my belly.
*
A PATCHWORK of frosted fields – some reserved for crops, others dotted with small, honey-coloured stone houses – sweep past as the ship glides through the water. If the winds stay this favourable, Astrophel thinks we might arrive in Lulana a night early.
That moment can’t come quickly enough. Placing one hand flat against my belly, I press the tender places where my muscles have torn from all the retching. If I never set foot on another boat again, it’ll be too soon.
I’ve been hiding behind these tents long enough. I’m about to go in search of my waterskin, when I smell him. Smoky musk and dark amber, tinged with the sweet-herbal notes of the confounded dreamroot he’s constantly chewing – a potent calmative, I’ve learnt from Tansy.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Blayze doesn’t wait for an answer. And he hasn’t come alone. Serafine stares up at me from his shoulder, eyes like twin burning embers. ‘I heard you last night.’
He’s speaking in a deep, gravelly whisper. I meet his hard stare but don’t say anything.
He pauses. ‘It struck a chord, what you were saying about your father.’ Blayze chafes his signet ring.
‘I was always a disappointment to mine, too.’ He releases a long breath that mushrooms the air.
‘And while I’m confessing things I shouldn’t, I might as well tell you I didn’t mean for things to go so far at the banquet.
I wanted to yank Astrophel’s chain, pay him back for what he said to me, but I didn’t realise he was such a territorial bastard.
Must like you more than I thought.’ His mouth edges up at one corner.
I remember his smirk at Thawtide and want to claw his face all over again.
‘But it’s true what he said. My father never wanted me to succeed him. ’
‘Why?’ I don’t mean to ask the question, but it rolls off my tongue before I can stop it.
His golden eyes search mine. ‘I’ve never told another living soul this, but I think you’ll understand. Perhaps you’re the only—’ He stops short, one hand straying to the torc around his throat. The metal band glints in the sunlight.
I shift my weight, peering over the tents. I’m not sure I want to hear the Clanschief’s secrets.
‘Kyden and I are twins, but he’s the elder by eleven minutes. In my father’s eyes, it was I who killed our mother. He never could forgive me for the crime of my birth.’
My stomach heaves. Only it’s not water-sickness making me nauseous this time, it’s the echo of my father’s voice. Four little words, said so long ago. Words I’ve never been able to forget.
‘You killed your brother.’
Blayze is right, I do understand. Better than he can ever realise.
‘My father changed his mind about the succession, but he never changed his mind about me. Events forced his hand, and he never tired of telling me how much he resented it.’ Blayze ruffles Serafine’s head, his broad fingers surprisingly gentle as they thread through her luminous feathers.
‘When pitlung finally saw our father off, Kyden respected his decision and swore me an oath of loyalty. I became Clanschief, but things aren’t easy between us.
’ Blayze shrugs. ‘I have to hope he’s only keeping my throne warm in my absence, not seeking to usurp it. ’
Silence stretches between us. I find myself searching for words of comfort. Like when I heard about his mother’s death, it’s as if I’ve forgotten how much I dislike the man standing in front of me. What comes out is a breathless, ‘I’m sorry.’
The words taste wrong the instant they leave my lips.
Blayze winces. ‘I don’t want your pity. That’s not… I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was clearly mistaken.’
And just like that, the veil of his pride is drawn between us again.
There’s a scuffling from the pile of tents. Astrophel barges his way through, scowling first at Blayze, then at me.
‘Now, now, don’t get all possessive again, Peacock. We were only having a friendly chat, weren’t we, Sparkles.’ Blayze turns on his heel and clambers over the tents, shouldering Astrophel out of the way.
He glowers at the back of Blayze’s head as he saunters up the deck. For a moment, I think he’s going to follow him, but instead he turns to me, catching me by the wrist.
‘Get your hands off me.’
Astrophel releases me, steps back. ‘What are you about, holding court with vermin?’
‘For your information, I was back here, spilling my guts up, when Blayze approached me. Not that it’s any of your concern whom I talk to. I’m not your property.’
Astrophel fixes me with a wry smile. ‘Not yet.’
Not ever.
‘As your betrothed, I’ve the right to object to you talking, unchaperoned, with another man.’
‘You want to talk about improper conduct?’ I fold my arms and glare up at him. ‘Fine. Let’s discuss your behaviour at Thawtide, then.’
Astrophel straightens his cloak. ‘I’ve already told you I bitterly regret my behaviour that night.
’ His eyes narrow. ‘Anyway, stop deflecting. What would your father say about your secret assignations with that brute? We can’t trust the Outrealmers.
I see the way you look at them, the way you’re behaving.
Have you forgotten what they are? What they’ve done? ’
‘And what have they done, exactly? Tansy saved my mother’s life – your Queen’s life. Blayze left his home – everything and everyone he knows – to help us. They all did.’
Astrophel laughs. ‘If you see kindness, it’s self-serving. If you see eagerness, it’s duplicitous. They’re the reason your mother’s sick in the first place, the reason my father…’ A muscle jumps in Astrophel’s clenched jaw. ‘What were you discussing with the sand-rat anyway?’
‘I can’t tell you. I’d be breaking a confidence.’
Astrophel turns his back, aura flaring carnelian.
Well, that’s perfect. Just about everyone aboard this ship hates me.
Instead of preventing our alliance from unravelling further, I’ve created an even more tangled mess. My first instinct was right, I’m not up to this. I ruin everything and everyone I touch.
My confidence shatters into a thousand pieces. A supernova only I can hear.