Chapter 27
Amaya emerged from Lake Anna on the other side after an hour spent paddling through the cold water. While the movement had kept her from freezing, her limbs now wobbled like jelly. Her dress was in tatters, plastered to her body.
She dragged herself onto the shore and collapsed on her back in the gritty sand, clumsily pulling Wayfinder out of her pocket to check on Will’s status . . . but it only showed his direction, not his distance. She didn’t even know if he was coming.
Her fingers brushed against something else soft and soggy, and Amaya’s heart sank. Pinching it, she pulled out her mother’s photo.
Waterlogged and ruined, Marjorie Sinclair’s beautiful face was smudged beyond recognition. It practically disintegrated between her fingers, and, crestfallen, Amaya thought it looked like how she felt.
This had started off so well. She’d actually thought they might get back to the Maelstrom with no major hiccups after the almost-incident with Freya and the torn dress, but no, of course not. Now a rescue mission was in order.
Amaya closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to catch her breath and stop shivering.
Time passed—she had no idea how much. Once she could breathe without her lungs feeling like they were lined with fire, she pressed her fingers into the rough sand and pushed herself up.
The cold delved deeper into her bones every second she remained still, and this dress was not doing her any favors.
Water saturated the material, pressing the chill into her skin.
Groaning at her stiff limbs, Amaya twisted her arms behind her back and fumbled for the zipper, peeling the dress off and away.
That left her in a white petticoat, which she also kicked off, and a lavender, satin slip.
She kept that on. It stuck to her damp skin and may or may not have been see-through, but Amaya couldn’t be bothered.
She took the holster off her thigh, too, dropping it and her waterlogged gun beside her. Being free of the wet, heavy fabric helped, but she was still freezing.
Where was she? All she saw were trees, water . . . and at the far edge of the lake, up on the cliff, Starcrest Peak. She didn’t think any of Victor’s men had seen her jump, and that meant she had some time.
But what could she do with it?
Her friends were under arrest. Victor, of all people, had the Skystone. Graven was still loose in the city for all she knew, and she had no way to reach the train. Perhaps she could make it back on foot if Will didn’t show, but then what? How would they rescue the others?
That was all assuming she didn’t freeze to death first.
Was full-body numbness normal after swimming for an hour?
There was no telling how long she sat there, staring out into the water and replaying everything in her mind’s eye. She wasn’t confident her legs would hold her weight, so she stayed, hugging her knees to her chest and praying to the Maker that Will was on his way.
Should she alert him again? She should alert him again.
Amaya activated Wayfinder a second time just in case and folded over herself, shivering. Her eyelids drooped.
Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay—
“Amaya!”
The voice pierced her reverie like an echo from a distant land. At first, Amaya didn’t think it was real.
“Amaya!”
Was it real? Amaya lifted her head and turned. “Will?”
Sure enough, Will raced from the tree line, coat flaring out behind him. He slid onto his knees next to her and tore it off, dropping it over her shoulders before Amaya even had time to be embarrassed about her state of undress.
“What happened?” Will took her face in his hands and looked her over, presumably for injuries.
Amaya sighed in exhausted relief; she was so cold, and his leather gloves were so warm in comparison. Once Will seemed satisfied she wasn’t hurt, he drew her into his chest.
Her wet hair soaked through his shirt instantly as Amaya let out a shallow, shaky breath. She pulled the coat more tightly around her body and shoved her arms through the sleeves, eagerly leaning in to absorb more of his heat. He smelled like sunshine and spiced honey.
“I’m okay,” she murmured, hardly realizing he hadn’t asked that. Or maybe he had. “I’m okay.”
“Your lips are blue,” Will said. He took his gloves off, and she nearly melted from the warmth of his bare hands as his thumb traced her lower lip. “That’s not my definition of okay.”
“I’m fine, really. But the others . . .” The words spilled out of her.
“We found the Skystone conductor, but the fleet ambushed us on our way out. Edmund got shot, twice. He was alive when I saw him, but . . .” That could have changed.
She suppressed a shiver before continuing.
“They took all the relics, and the Skystone. Victor’s taking them to the Coil. ”
Will wouldn’t know Victor, but judging by the way his body tensed, he did know the Coil.
Amaya looked up at his face, but his expression gave little away.
“I tried to stop it,” she said emphatically. “I’m so sorry. What do we do?”
Surely something like this had happened to them before. There had to be some kind of precedent or protocol. Amaya braced herself in anticipation of a reprimand that didn’t come.
“First, we get you warm,” Will said. “I passed an inn on the way here. Can you walk?”
Amaya wasn’t sure, but her brief hesitation was enough. Will gathered her strewn about things and then scooped her up in his arms like she weighed no more than a feather.
This was fine. She wouldn’t argue. Amaya curled into his solid chest and closed her eyes, letting his closeness calm her.
Meanwhile, his rapid heartbeat betrayed how worried he actually was.
Amaya had never been to Forthstead. When they arrived in the town square after a short ride on a motorized bicycle Will had probably stolen, she realized why.
It was a small hamlet with just one street, highly unlikely to attract aristocrats and nobility.
There was a single small inn, a bakery, and a handful of other staple establishments, but nothing particularly noteworthy.
One of the pirates who’d died in the Stormrunner attack had been from here, though. Right? She could barely remember anything before today; it was all trapped behind fog.
Will brought her to the inn, where she claimed they’d been on a boat and she’d fallen in the lake.
It wasn’t a great story, since nobody went out on the lake this time of year, but there were no questions asked.
Will dropped way too many talents down on the counter, and in return, the kind old innkeeper gave them a room in the back of the inn with a warm hearth and plenty of blankets.
Hopefully the innkeeper was less in-the-know about Amaya than their damn cab driver had been.
Inside the room, Amaya sat as close to the fire as she could without burning herself.
She still wore her slip and Will’s jacket, but now had an extra blanket over her shoulders and a hot cup of cinnamon tea in her hand.
Vitality slowly returned to her skin and it no longer hurt to breathe, but guilt occupied every corner of her mind.
Her head spun, unable to stop imagining what manner of torture Sebastian and Edmund were facing right now.
Will joined a few moments later, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her with his beverage of choice—a cup of coffee.
“Feeling better?”
“A little.” Amaya took a sip of tea. “Do you have a plan?”
He stared into the fire and nodded. “Once you’re fit to travel, I’m putting you back on the train to Talbot. You can use the comms on the skiffs to have Ford or Crowe come get you. I’ll take care of getting everyone out of the Coil.”
“By yourself?”
He smirked. “As decent of a shot as you are, you’re not invited. Lockwood is still in the city; I’ll try to rendezvous with him, and he can help. You’ve been through enough.”
“Oh.” Her chest swelled at his desire to spare her, even as her lungs constricted with worry. She sipped at her tea, letting its warmth wash through her. “Thank you for . . . thank you for coming.”
Will looked perplexed by her gratitude. “I gave you Wayfinder to use, Amaya. Of course I came for you.”
A smile tugged on the corners of her lips as she leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the dancing flames.
He wrapped his arm around her, edging closer and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
The surprisingly tender sensation of his lips brushing her damp hair made her heart warm .
. . and then cramp with something she couldn’t name.
She was just like her great-grandmother Lucy, desiring a chaotic, dangerous man far more than the socially acceptable one chosen for her. The thought of Victor holding her the way Will was now made her skin crawl.
But her courtship with Victor was over. If today wasn’t enough for him to end things, it was enough for her.
Will rubbed her arm soothingly. “I don’t want to rush you. But whenever you’re ready to tell me what happened . . .”
Right. Amaya nodded, not eager to relive any of it, but Will needed more than the bullet points.
She started with their arrival at Starcrest, explaining how the cab driver had reported them and her torn dress damned them. Then she told him about the library, the map, and the Skystone conductor. Amaya opened the locket around her neck to show Will the newly-empty cavity.
“We thought any investigation would be over. But the lieutenant, Victor Westbrook, is a . . . well, he’s determined. He’s the one who shot Edmund, then I shot him in the foot and got away. That’s when I called you.”
Something glinted in the deep green of Will’s eyes. “You shot him?”
Where she’d only felt remorse before, Amaya’s chest swelled with pride. “You gave me Eagle Eye to use too, didn’t you?”
His lips pulled into a slight smile. “I did. But I’m surprised they didn’t confiscate your relics.”
“I doubt he thought I had anything noteworthy. He took everything else,” Amaya said with a sigh. “Skystone included. And now I’m here.”