Chapter 22
One must ask: Why would the sea aid the land? After decades of humans using their waters as a waste ground, why come to our aid now? What has the Imperium Alius offered them?
Despite my best intentions to research the library, I got caught up sketching in my cryptozoology journal.
The dragon had been the most challenging one to get right.
I was almost out of pages. I’d need to procure a new journal soon.
I fell asleep while doing the required reading for Selethis, missed supper, and woke to Dori banging on my door—it was time to head to Coral Isle.
The sea between us and the island was like a smooth sheet of glass, gleaming with moonlight and the twinkle of stars. The line that waited for one of the two boats to ferry us across buzzed with excitement.
Frost crackled beneath my boots, and the air misted with each breath I took. It was freezing this close to the sea, despite there being no gusty wind.
I’d borrowed a large, fleece-lined coat from Benedict.
It fell to mid-thigh, keeping the top half of my body nice and warm.
But the chill still found my legs, creeping through the material of my trousers to kiss my skin.
I tugged the knitted hat down over my ears—a bright pink loaner from Dori.
Something I couldn’t see her ever actually wearing.
She’d opted for a black knitted slouch cap and a fitted leather jacket, while Clary, wrapped in a wool coat and gloves, stamped her feet to stay warm. “It’s a lot busier than usual.”
“News of your match with Tamina has got around,” Dori said.
“It’s going to be a crush.” Benedict frowned. “You should change your mind,” he added wearily—we’d had this conversation several times on the way to the dock already.
I gave him a warning glance, answer enough, and he shook his head.
* * *
He’d tried to use my hand as an excuse to get me to back down. After all, how could I punch with a fractured hand? But I’d told him I had a mean left hook. Perks of being ambidextrous. Truth was, my hand felt fine. The bandage was just for show.
“The Hamlin was nothing compared to what Tamina can do,” Dori said. “I’m with Benedict. I think you should reconsider and—”
“Guys, please. This is my choice.”
“Well, in that case, it’s lucky I brought you a change of clothes.” Clary patted her bag.
“Change of clothes? For the blood?”
“No,” Dori said. “For when you piss and shit yourself.”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She winced. “No, I mean, it’s happened before, so best to be prepared.”
Doubt prickled my skin, but I shook it off. I could do this. I’d be fine. No fear. No pain. It would be a breeze.
With my curse letting up where pleasure was concerned, I’d been a little worried that the pain aspect might also be affected, but my throat hadn’t hurt after Sterling’s attack, and a few stabs with a needle earlier this evening double confirmed that the curse was still fully active where pain was concerned.
I spotted Tyler ahead with a few younger students from Combat 101. He met my gaze and dragged a finger across his throat.
“What is your problem, Tyler?” Benedict demanded.
Tyler ignored him, his gaze never leaving mine. “I hope Tamina makes your brain bleed, bitch.” He shoved his way toward the front of the line despite several protests.
He must know what had happened to his older sister, but the Damascuses were prohibited from speaking of my involvement. My father’s sacrifice had seen to that. Legally, the case was closed, and the culprit had been punished.
I could speak of it, though, if I wanted to. Although I’d told Drayven the truth, I didn’t want to tell the Unwoven. Not yet, and maybe never.
We shuffled forward a couple of steps, and as if my thoughts had provoked it, Dori asked, “Is there something you’re not telling us? About you and Sterling? It’s just, the way he acted with you today…it felt a little too…personal.”
“There’s a lot I’m not telling you. We’re just not there yet.” They’d just have to speculate for now.
She nodded. “I can respect your candor. You’ll tell us someday, right?”
I looked her in the eye and lied. “Of course.”
Telling Drayven had felt natural. Maybe because he knew the kind of person Sterling was and had his own history with the Phage. But I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel comfortable telling the Unwoven.
The boat that had just arrived filled up, and we’d reached the end of the dock, now first in line for the next ride, as the current boat pushed off back to sea, taking Tyler with it.
“The other boat is almost back,” Clary said.
“And there’s still a line behind us,” Dori muttered. “Entertainment is slim in Nightsbridge.”
Entertainment. She meant me. At least for tonight.
That was fine. They wanted a show, I’d make sure they got one, while humiliating Tamina in the process.
It would be a win-win.
I hoped.
* * *
Coral Isle earned its name from the coral reef that surrounded the whole isle. It was a place for the land folk and seafolk to mingle. The tower here, once belonging to the Blackthornes, now served as a base for the Ocean Guard. But the main attraction was a place called the Devil Fish.
The Unwoven had filled me in on the details, and mentally replaying them on the boat ride helped me ignore the whispers and pointed looks from other passengers.
Thankfully, the boat had an engine, so it didn’t take long to reach the floating dock connected to the isle.
The sea on either side glowed pink and purple from the algae growing on the coral beneath the waves.
I’d never seen anything so ethereal and beautiful, but the stunning sight did nothing to stem the tremor of anxiety building in my belly.
Now that we were here, the enormity of what I was about to do hit me.
I wasn’t worried about going up against Tamina.
I was confident in combat, and I didn’t fear getting hurt.
The factor that put me on edge was the thought of fighting for an audience.
Being the center of attention wasn’t something I enjoyed.
Benedict offered me a hand to help me disembark, his gaze probing.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine. Just want to get this over with.”
He nodded. “Okay, we’ll forgo the tour and get you straight to the Devil Fish.”
The dock bobbed beneath our steps as we made our way across and onto the beach. We climbed a flight of steps that took us to a winding path that led to the center of the island.
Posts strung with flickering lanterns bordered a lively market square, dotted with stalls selling everything from shells and trinkets to gorgeously woven silk fabrics.
Students milled about, browsing and chatting with vendors who had brightly colored hair spanning every color of the rainbow, hues shifting and shimmering in the lantern light.
Their large, dark eyes and pale, poreless skin gave them an otherworldly air.
“Sea silk,” Clary said, noticing me eyeing a turquoise scarf. “It’s super resilient, and the dyes come from tiny flowers that bloom among the coral. I think they’re called poppysalts.”
The smell of smoked fish and barbecue drifted on the breeze, reminding me I’d missed supper, and my stomach growled in response.
“We can get a bite to eat if you want,” Clary said.
I didn’t think I’d be able to stomach anything until after the event. “Later, for sure.”
We slipped past a group of giggling girls to a spot where the path opened, revealing the tower in the distance beyond the trees.
“That’s the Devil Fish.” Benedict pointed at a large brick building down the road.
We passed a couple more stalls, one selling jewelry made from coral and bone, another offering bowls of hot, aromatic soup, and one lined with leather-bound books with gilded script.
Clary let out a squeak and hurried over.
“We’ll have to give her a minute,” Benedict said with an indulgent smile. “Clary loves to read. Have you been in her room yet?”
I shook my head, curiosity piqued.
“Books from floor to ceiling against every wall. We had a clear-out a few months ago, but she already restocked.”
“You can order stuff in from outside Nightsbridge?”
“Yep, once you’ve passed your grading, you’ll get permission to place orders through the Border House.”
Good to know. We headed after Clary and Dori.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
A woman sat in a rocking chair, knitting outside a shack on the opposite side of the road.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
She had no wares to sell, no stall; she was simply rocking and knitting.
Click, clack, click, clack.
“Well, hello there.” She set her knitting on her lap. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Wait, when had I walked over here?
“It’s all right,” she said. “I won’t keep you long. I was curious.” She tipped her head to the side and ran her sharp gaze over me.
Her silver hair was neatly brushed and tied in a bun high on her head. Her face was smooth and youthful, but her eyes held the weight of ages.
My skin prickled and bloomed with goose bumps and the instinctual awareness that I was in the presence of something other. “Who are you?”
“An interested party. Maybe even a friend—depending on your actions.”
“My actions?” I wasn’t a fan of cryptic conversations.
“Yes, Anamaya. You have some important choices to make.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”
“Someone who understands how lost you are.”
Her intimate tone grated on me. “I’m not lost. I know exactly where I’m going.”
“Do you?”
A cold finger of foreboding slid down my spine. “If you have something to tell me, then do it plainly. I don’t have time for riddles.”
“You’re right. You don’t. So I will speak as plainly as I am able.
There is a storm on the horizon, and to weather it, you’ll need to build a strong vessel of souls that touch you.
You must find an anchor and a reliable compass, and you must ensure you surround yourself with wisdom and strength so that you can face the truth and turn the tide.
“The truth?” Was she talking about the book of truth?
“Ana? Ana!”
“What?” I looked over my shoulder at the Unwoven standing a few feet away.
“What are you doing?” Clary asked.
“Talking. What does it look like?”
“Talking to who?” Benedict asked, frowning at the empty space behind me
“Talking to—” I turned back to the woman and found a run-down abandoned stall.
The woman and the shack were gone.