Chapter 27
Linnea felt the air completely depart her lungs as she watched Asta crumple into the ocean, landing in the arms of a finned female with flaming red hair. She sprinted—something Linnea hadn’t done in years—toward her cousin who was being pulled under the currents, but she was too far.
Linnea’s perpetually frail body was no match for the storm winds. She had wasted precious moments frozen in fear on the terrace and it had cost her the minutes she needed to reach the shoreline in time.
Why did her cousin always have to play the hero?
Asta insisted on saving everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it.
But Linnea knew that the sacrifice her cousin had made was not for one person.
No, Asta had done this for their nation; for her kingdom.
And though Linnea could not fault her for that, she still felt a pang of betrayal at the sacrifice.
Linnea’s weak body only ran so far until she was exhausted and had to slow to a brisk walk.
She heard heavy steps behind her and turned to see Halsten trudging through the wet sand at a jog.
His long, charcoal hair was plastered to his high cheekbones and if Linnea wasn’t so enraged, her legs may have turned weak at the sight of him.
Linnea turned back to the sea to find that her cousin was gone, completely swallowed by the deep water, and she fell to her knees.
“No!” she bellowed. Her breaths came quickly and she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world. Not without Asta.
Year after year, her cousin had breathed life back into her slowly and that was something she could never manage to repay. Now, she may never get the chance to try.
The warmth of a hand pressed itself to Linnea’s back, seeping through the soaked fabric of her dress.
“Breathe, Linnea. You have to breathe,” Halsten begged, his voice straining to be heard over the deafening downpour.
“In… and out, slowly.” Linnea sucked in a deep breath and let it out steadily. “That’s it. Again,” he pressed.
After a few more breaths, the tightness in Linnea’s chest began to ease.
Halsten kneeled in the sand in front of her, grabbing her wrists to pull her hands away from her face.
She stared into his soft brown eyes and blinked away her tears that camouflaged into the rain. But Halsten knew the tears were there.
“Asta wouldn’t want to see you like this, right?” Halsten asked.
Linnea shook her head.
He gave her a gentle smile and ran his thumbs over her stark white scars on her wrists. “What would Asta want you to do?”
She looked around, taking in her surroundings. To one side, the crashing sea. To the other, the castle—a beacon in the storm. Her voice shook as she murmured, “Stand up.”
Halsten leaned in closer to Linnea, his face hardly a few inches from hers. “You’re going to have to say that louder, Little Flame. I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Little Flame. The strange name Halsten had been calling her since his first few days arriving in Orntali.
Though she never understood the meaning, she presumed it was due to her light auburn hair.
Linnea was thankful for the horrid weather because it hid her now hot, rosy cheeks.
She sucked in a deep breath and repeated herself a little louder. “Stand up.”
Halsten let go of her wrists and stood to his full height, extending a hand toward her in support. “One more time, for me. What would Asta want you to do?” he shouted.
Normally shouting made Linnea flinch and revert to her old self. Obedient. Quiet. Unremarkable in every way. But something about Halsten’s encouragement sparked a light in her. A little flame.
Linnea reached out and firmly gripped Halsten’s hand. Through the rain, the worry, and the defeat, she shouted, “Stand up!”
As the words escaped her mouth, Halsten heaved her up to her feet with one swift tug of his arm and caught her hip to stabilize her.
He pointed at her with a stern finger. “You always stand up, Linnea. From here on out. It’s okay to fall, but you need to get back up.
We’re in some serious shit and Asta is going to need you. ”
Linnea nodded, understanding that he wasn’t scolding her. This certainly wasn’t the proper way to speak to women but Halsten was accustomed to pep-talking his male best friend, not a feeble woman with no confidence. However, for some strange reason, it worked for her.
The pair turned toward Gyrial who was still standing at the edge of the water, but there was another figure with him now. An argument had clearly erupted based on the tense postures and waving arms. As she approached the situation with Halsten, Linnea recognized Niklas.
“How could you let her go?! Oh, Queen Else is probably seething from up above!” Niklas shouted as he waved a hand toward the sky. “A siren? You let her change into a siren!”
“You know damn well that no one was going to stop her, Niklas,” Gyrial answered in a booming voice that cut through the storm effortlessly, “and if I couldn’t stop her, the least I could do was be here while it happened to make sure she was okay.”
Niklas pressed his palms to the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he paced along the murky shoreline.
“Queen Else? As in Asta’s mother?” Halsten asked, startling the arguing pair who hadn’t noticed their approach.
Niklas’s chest heaved in a deep breath. “She knew about all of this. She knew and kept it to herself. And I can guarantee you that the last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be involved in this never ending war.” The young courtier looked pale and unsteady on his feet.
“Ooooh this isn’t good. Not good at all.
” He turned away from everyone and began mumbling to himself.
Linnea could only pick out key words like “doom” and “chaos.”
Linnea wrapped a hand around Niklas’s bicep and gently turned him toward her. “How is it you know? You weren’t even a year old when Queen Else passed away.”
Niklas pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Journals. She kept meticulous journals recording any information she discovered about the merspecies and their lives. I found them in the castle archives, tossed aside in a box as if they were trash. I could tell they were important, however, due to their impeccable condition. They are quite informative. Riveting really. Her recording style is something to be envied by—”
Gyrial held up a hand to stop the courtier from rambling. His Spellid mountain accent was strong as he spoke. “I do not care about how she took her notes, Niklas. I care about what they say. Tell me anything that can help bring Asta home safely. Anything to end this war for good.”
Niklas gave a quick nod. “Of course, let me think. There is the lost trident, but no one has seen that for centuries. Rumored to be last seen in a nondescript fae territory somewhere north, but there is no solid proof. Well, erm, there isn’t really solid proof of any of this, I suppose.
” He pressed his index finger to his chin.
“And there’s a side note that the queen scribbled in a margin.
I’m not sure what it truly means but I don’t think you,” Niklas gestured to Linnea, “will like it.”
Linnea’s heartbeat skittered. She had nothing to do with sirens, or finfolk, or any other mythical being out there. If she had any magical powers hiding within her, surely they would have surfaced during years of abuse, triggering some sort of self preservation against her mother.
Halsten placed a gentle hand on Linnea’s lower back and asked the question she couldn’t voice. “What won’t she like?”
“We have to go to Queen Else’s old manor. We have to go to your mother’s home, Linnea.” Niklas wrung his hands, an apologetic look sliding over his face.
Linnea’s blood ran cold. She hadn’t returned to her mother’s manor since her uncle Botmar rescued her years ago and she planned on never returning as long as she lived.
Her hands began shaking and she soothed herself by rubbing the smooth scar on one of her wrists.
It reminded her that she was free of the shackles she had worn time and time again, both physical and emotional.
Am I strong enough to see her again? To see the rooms I’d been beaten and starved in? I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
But if she didn’t return to her old home, what would happen to her cousin?
A vision of Asta wearing chains on her wrists flashed in Linnea’s mind and she felt her body begin to heat back up.
Her cousin could be in danger even as she stood on the beach contemplating.
She would not allow it. She would do anything to prevent her cousin from enduring torture similar to that she had experienced herself.
Linnea stood tall as she yelled through the deluge of rain. “When do we leave?”