Chapter 3
THREE
Z
I followed Dair up the staircase and to the deck of the ship. Surprisingly, Killian tagged along, his tail thumping against the wood with every step he took.
I didn’t know what I was seeing at first.
In the distance, craggy gray rocks rippled as far as the eye could see, interspersed here and there with fields of grass and throngs of trees. The water crested the shoreline, its white-tipped edges reflecting the sunlight.
The rest of my mates stood at the very edge of the boat. I couldn’t see the expressions on their faces, but tension thrummed through their bodies in waves. Beside them stood Phineas, the captain of the ship, and his first mate, Toylo.
“Come here, love,” Lupe murmured as soon as he sensed me, gesturing me forward.
I shouldered my way between him and Ryland and faced the horizon.
My breath caught.
There, lining the shoreline, were hundreds, if not thousands, of tents. In an open clearing, two warriors parried swords while a crowd cheered them on. More people were walking to and fro, traversing the makeshift trails created by the tent placement.
My first thought was—the kings. Somehow, they escaped the dungeons and were building an army.
But then I looked closer.
The men and women didn’t hold themselves with the same lethal elegance of a genie or the insouciant slump of a mage. Their eyes weren’t the bright crimson of a vampire, nor did they hold the ethereal beauty of an incubus. There were no shadows enveloping their bodies the way they would for a shadow, and none of them lumbered like a shifter. The waters were devoid of any mermaids as well. The only ripple came from our boat.
These people were…human.
As if they sensed eyes on them, the two humans fighting stopped and turned. The crowd followed the direction of their gazes. It wasn’t long until I felt hundreds of eyes piercing my flesh, devouring me like an infestation of fire ants. A tendril of electricity released in my stomach, and my hands turned clammy.
Then, as one, the humans fell to their knees and bowed their heads.
“What the fuck?” Bash murmured, his brows wrinkling.
Phineas whistled. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Lupe placed a huge, comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “They’re bowing to you, my mate.”
His deep voice rumbled through me.
A breath of disbelief escaped me—the noise bordering on hysteria. “Me?”
“You’re the Liberator, aren’t you?” Lupe asked, though I knew he didn’t expect a response.
The question was rhetorical. We all knew about the title the humans had given me.
“Great.” Bash rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Just what the princess needs—a bigger head than she already has.”
I reached across Ryland to swat at the mage’s shoulder. “Are you saying I have a big ego?”
“I’m saying you have a big head,” Bash quipped. “The thing’s the size of a fucking watermelon.”
This time, it was Lupe who hit the mage—much harder than I did.
Still, Bash’s words helped dissipate the tension thrumming between us. I could practically feel the muscles in my shoulders loosen.
“You’re an asshole,” I muttered, still focused on the kneeling humans.
Oh my god. How did I get them up? Was I supposed to snap my fingers? Wave? Order them to their feet? I was an assassin, for fuck’s sake, not a leader.
“Are you supposed to do something?” Dair murmured softly, echoing my own thoughts.
“What do you suppose I do?” I hissed. “You guys are the princes.”
Ryland’s shadows converged around him, and he disappeared from view. He reappeared a few feet in front of me and hovered over the railing of the boat, his scarred features set in a look of amusement.
“You could order them to rise,” he drawled.
“I don’t want to order anyone,” I snapped.
“They’re probably getting sore necks,” Devlin interjected. I glared at him, but he simply widened his violet eyes and held his hands up innocently. “Just trying to help.”
“Don’t.”
“Who’s that?” Jax scratched absently at the nape of his neck as he squinted at someone in the distance.
I followed the direction of his gaze to see a figure walking through the kneeling crowd.
At first, I didn’t recognize who he was, but as his features came into view, I caught sight of his sharp jawline, graying hair, and cutting eyes. The wry smirk on his craggily wrinkled face was unmistakable.
“B,” I whispered, stunned.
I knew that the man couldn’t hear me—not with him as far away from us as he was—but his smile broadened. Even from this distance, I could detect the sparkle in his eyes, the amusement that never seemed to falter no matter what life threw his way.
“I heard there’s a war going on,” he called with feigned casualness, twirling his sword around in his hands. “Thought you could use an army.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “It would be an honor to serve you, Liberator.”