53
Valine tried to hide the thunderous headache that throbbed in her skull, but the shafts of sunlight and boisterous market belied her pain—not including the pleasant ache between her thighs. She flinched and cringed at every bright and loud exposure, and the concern from Malik and the others was painfully evident. It was only dawn, yet the pink and powdery light was enough to aggravate her.
As they boarded the ship, she stayed silent, casting anxious looks over her shoulders at Cuuevota’s coastline. All the unexplored stalls and wares, all the secret beaches and waterfalls the island contained. All of it hidden from her. She was disappointed their stay was as short as it was, but she was more than grateful for how fortuitous it turned out to be, despite the alliance refusal.
It was when Hanish and his family attempted to reboard, that Valine stopped them. “This is where your journey ends for now.”
“What?” Hanish said, aghast.
“For now, you need to stay in Cuuevota until I’m certain Hafsa’s organization isn’t attempting retribution for her failure to carry out her mission. The further you are from them, the safer you are.”
“Safe?” Hanish was outraged. “This is a fucking black market, Valine!”
Behind her husband, Hafsa was cupping the innocent ears of their two children, both dark of hair and light of eye, neither older than five. They stared up in confused curiosity while Hafsa scowled, twisting her pretty face.
“I know,” Valine said quietly. “But this is the best I can do.”
“The fuck it is!”
“Hanish, you go no further. I am sorry.”
“You’re not sorry,” he bit out. “And after all I’ve done for you? You would be dead without me.”
“I know,” she allowed. Closing her eyes, she sighed and dug out a satchel, handing it to someone she considered a friend. “It won’t do you much good here since the market trades mostly in information, but there are wares that coin will get you. Until I return, ration this. You should live comfortably on it for a while.”
Some of the fury drained from Hanish’s eyes. “You’ll come back for us?”
“I promise. If I am still living, I will.”
Hanish was silent before he sighed. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Hanish. For everything.”
He nodded.
For a moment neither of them spoke, but caught up in a fit of emotion Valine reached out and grasped his shoulder, staring at him firmly and nodding farewell. Hanish did the same to her, the warm weight of the fulgurmancer assuring her she hadn’t destroyed every semblance of their allyship. In that moment, she debated something before slipping Wallace Yarl’s pistol into Hanish’s hands.
“Keep your family safe,” she whispered.
He stared at her, emotion raw on his face before he promised.
Hanish and his family turned and slipped back into the crowd on the docks, disappearing into the masses and the anonymity of the black market. Valine strode for the ship.
She patted the Call in her bag, clinking against the Veritasium Medallion she’d taken from Larysa’s drug lord. She could feel the heat of it through the leather, and she wondered what magic it possessed and how it worked. Even so, she couldn’t believe it had been so easy, and because it was so simple, she was unsettled. It didn’t sit right with her that they arrived, retrieved and were leaving. It was too straightforward and she never trusted something so uncomplicated. Because of this, she was constantly casting looks, waiting for an attack. Waiting for a surprise.
Valine could never quite shake her suspicious, assassin ways. She always thought someone was out to fuck her over.
Captain Morgan Yarl was bright-eyed and cheery as he gazed out over the sea in the mild light. New crates were stacked near him and several new faces had joined his crew. Valine wondered if any of them had been destined for brothels and other acts of servitude, and the better Yarl brother inadvertently saved them from that fate.
Still unsteady on her feet, Valine crossed the ship to the port side and leaned over the rail, inhaling the briny air, trying to clear her head. The pain was racking up and her previous day’s exhaustion plagued her even worse. Her magic was still so untried and she wasn’t equipped to use her necromancy against two kraken at once. She fisted her hands on the rail, tightening her grasp on her reality, unwilling to slip into darkness.
“Valine.” She turned to the sound of the feminine voice and found Freyja at her side. “Are you still weak from yesterday?”
Valine hesitated but nodded once.
Freyja cast her eyes over her slender shoulders nervously. “Would tethering your magic to me help?”
Valine’s head snapped up in surprise. She waited a beat. “It would.”
“Then do it,” Freyja said resolutely.
Carefully, Valine pried a hand from the polished rail—a rail that only survived due to the blonde’s ruinmancy—and twisted her fingers, pulling threads to the surface. Slowly, she drew them, the smoke thick like syrup, and sprawled her fingers out as they crept over to Freyja. Pointing, she allowed the necromancy slip into Freyja’s chest and she inhaled sharply as she felt the connection.
Valine’s headache eased and her cognition cleared. No longer did she sway or depend on a hand on the ship to remain standing.
“Valine,” Freyja said sharply, the sound like a swear. “What are you doing?”
Valine stiffened as she met the ruinmancer’s eyes. Freyja’s hazel gaze was hard and astonished, following webs and lines.
“It’s a contingency.”
“How many?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Fucking Mrithun and Vitus,” Freyja muttered in horror, staring at the stark lines of Valine’s magic. “Does Malik know?”
“No.”
“Oh fuck, are you serious, Valine? Now I’m in the middle of this mess?” Freyja fussed, throwing her hands in the air.
“It’s probably unnecessary, but the opportunity was there and I never do anything without a safeguard.”
“Your funeral,” Freyja said, fed up and walking away. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
Valine sighed and looked out over the waves, glancing around at the replacement aethermancers guiding the sails. New hydromancers were diverting the immediate tides to let the ship cut through the water without resistance, hands twisting, triumphant gleams in their eyes. If they kept up this speed, they’d reach Adraali in three days.
The further they got from Cuuevota, the more her anxiety lessened. That didn’t mean that she’d relaxed, no, instead she was pacing the ship, eyes flickering nervously and she was sure she unsettled more than one pirate on board. She was like a wraith, haunting the ship, stalking along the edges with silent, deadly grace. Her tethers whispered against her, pulling and prodding. Every moment she hung onto them was another moment that the headaches and exhaustion were creeping back on her.
Hours passed without incident, Valine still pacing. Malik approached her cautiously.
“What are you worried about?” he asked her.
Valine jerked a look over her shoulder, back at the vanished island behind them.
“I don’t trust Thiandra.”
“Of course you don’t, you shouldn’t trust anyone.”
“Including you?”
Malik cracked a sly smirk. “Present company excluded.”
“Hmm.”
Malik sobered against her dour mood, detecting that her inability to tease back registered from anxiety. “What about Thiandra is bothering you?”
Valine pressed her lips together, tilting her head in thought. “It was too easy. You’re telling me that we got the Call in exchange for some unpleasant truths? No, I don’t trust it. There was no hunt, no bloodshed, no proper negotiations. And they handed it over like it was nothing. That, I don’t trust.”
Malik crossed his arms and leaned against the rail, tipping his head forward in her direction. It created an oddly intimate bubble despite the lack of touching. “So, what do you think they’ll do?”
“I don’t know,” Valine sighed, and stared out over the water, suddenly seeing a nightmare. And then horror clawed up her throat. “Maybe send a fleet after us.”