19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
W hen the tide recedes a few hours later, Niko and I dress in silence and head to the mouth of the cave. He rolls up his pants carefully, and with his boots clutched in one hand and his cloak thrown haplessly over his shoulder, he wades into the icy water with a violent shudder.
I hesitate, staring out the depthless lagoon. The water is still, the violet and electric blue swirls of the night sky perfectly reflected on the surface. If it weren’t for the rock spires circling the lagoon, it would be nearly impossible to tell where the sky ends, and the sea begins.
Niko glances over his shoulder in question. “Is there a problem?”
I gnaw at my lip. I don’t like showing the king weakness, but I also remember the feel of that icy water in my lungs all too well. I’d been so focused on hiding from the Strayed when I followed Niko’s death into the lagoon, I hadn’t had the space to consider it too carefully. But now, a kernel of dread lodges in my throat.
“The sirens…do they drown anyone that steps into the water?”
Niko laughs, the deep sound rolling over my skin like a shadow. “After last night, I believe you’ve made eternal friends of the sirens. A rare accomplishment, I must say.” He tilts his head thoughtfully, adding with a shrug, “Besides…they only drown people when they’re bored.”
At my incredulous look, he clarifies, “They used to have the entire sea to roam, but now they’re chained to this lagoon. I imagine it can get quite dull.”
His answer doesn’t soothe my worry of drowning, but it’s his other words that coil tightly in my stomach. “They can’t leave the lagoon?”
“They can swim upriver, of course, but generally speaking they’re as trapped in Letum as the rest of us. Though some of us prefer to pass the times in more…conventional ways.”
“You think idling away in a gothic palace, killing anything that comes near you is conventional?”
Niko only grins and holds out his hand, his fingers gloved once again. I’m distracted enough by his admission that I take it.
Trapped.
The word dives beneath my skin, pulling it too tight, making it itch. Even the cold water sloshing over my ankles as I wade into the lagoon isn’t enough to relieve it. I’d been held in the Amelioration camps for a little over ten years, shipped from one doctor to another, their desperation and hope thick in the air that something about me would lead them to a cure for the plague.
It never had, and though I’d eventually escaped, the feeling of being chained—of having no agency over my own body—is something now carved into the foundation of myself. It’s why I’ve never owned anything or allowed anyone too close: I couldn’t risk binding myself to anything ever again.
It makes sense now, why there were so many ships in the harbor. Like every vessel in the region had anchored there and never left. Why everyone has accepted a life of unpredictability and violence living next to the nightmare of the Strayed. There’s nowhere else to go.
“How long have you been trapped here?” I ask slowly, Niko’s grip tightening on mine as my feet slip on the silt.
He doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder, his feet splashing in a steady rhythm as he wades toward the beach.
“How long since the plague started?” he replies with a tight shrug that tells me he knows exactly how long.
I rip my hand from his grip and halt abruptly, momentarily forgetting my fear of the sirens. “You told me you control the wards. That you’ll open them if I help you.”
“ Are you agreeing to help me, then?” Niko asks lightly with another lopsided smile. I grimace, hating the way that smile so easily disarms me, slides under my skin like there’s no resistance.
“Tell me the truth, Niko.”
His ribbons shiver in pleasure as his name rolls from my tongue, even as he heaves an irritable sigh. “I’d advise you to be far more careful in the bargains you make in the future. I never promised to open the wards.” At my incensed look, he tsks in an amused manner. “Ah, ah. I promised they would open, Willa. I never said how. And it was your folly, not mine, for failing to demand the details of the terms.”
For a wild moment, I consider taking my chances with his ribbons and tackling him into the water. Maybe hold his head under until he decides to give up those ‘details’. Instead, I chew my lip until my fury has abated enough to form words.
“Does that mean I’m trapped here, too?”
I don’t know what I’ll do if he says yes. Probably something stupid.
His eyes devour the starlight. “The wards have been solidified by the death of dreams in your world and the death of magic in this one. Just like the island, they’ve been decaying slowly since the beginning of the plague, until nothing could penetrate them. Not even me.”
Niko’s expression is unreadable as he peers at me, into me. A hint of madness, the only thing edging the darkness of his gaze. “As to whether you are trapped…well, that’s entirely dependent on you, Darling.”
Without explaining further, he turns on his heel and splashes the rest of the way toward the beach, his ribbons streaming behind him. Leaving me gaping after him, knee-deep in the lagoon, mulling over his words. The island, the wards…he’d said they were all anchored to him.
The man with death in his heart, with decay in his veins.
Is Niko what’s causing the plague? Is it his power that’s killed the magic of Letum, that’s destroyed so many dreams?
I charge after him, determined to get the answers he hadn’t been inclined to give last night.
After laughing himself hoarse at my expense, Niko’s fingers had begun to twitch so furiously, it was clear he needed more rest. I told myself that’s why I didn’t press for more, but really, if I’d been forced to look him in the eye a moment longer, I probably would have combusted with mortification.
I’d watched the rise and fall of his chest for hours. I found him easier to look at with his eyes closed. His features were no softer in sleep, the sharp hewn angles and strong lines just as sharply cut. But without the manic black glint of his gaze, and with the soft way his lashes swept over his cheek, his beauty no longer felt like an attack. It felt warm—a mirror of the same thing still curling through my stomach now, hours later.
I still don’t know if what Niko said was true. My thoughts had been heated after he’d stripped down—the long, lean muscles, the tattooed designs decorating every inch of him. His body is living art, and I’d been shamefully hungry for more of it. But had I truly wished my desires into reality with some mysterious magic I’ve never even felt an inkling of?
I don’t feel powerful. I feel the same as I have my whole life—exhausted and on edge.
Maybe Niko had simply been amusing himself at my expense. He’s seen the way I claw every bit of power I can from the world around me, hoarding the small slivers of it and trying to press them together into something useable. Promising me what the world has always denied—self-authority—was the easiest way for him to gain my complicity.
My cheeks heat at the thought. I stomp up onto the warm sand after Niko with every intention of demanding he tell me everything, but a shout from the trees kills the words in my throat. My heart stutters in terror, images of Dawson returning for revenge beginning to take shape in my mind, but when I follow Niko’s gaze to the tree line, it’s to find Sam’s familiar outline.
He thunders down the beach toward the king, sand spraying behind his large leather boots. Marina hurries behind him, her gait so delicate, she appears to be floating over the beach. Their faces are both pinched with worry, and dark smudges of exhaustion stain the skin beneath their eyes as they come skidding to a stop before us.
There is no bowing, nor any of the royal greetings I’ve come to expect.
Instead, Sam thwacks Niko’s arm with the blunt of his sword. “Where the fuck have you been?”
The frown twisting his mouth only deepens as he takes in the drained pallor of Niko’s skin and the way his ribbons, normally so lively, now drape listlessly over his shoulders.
Niko straightens, tilting his head. Despite sleeping for hours, he looks only fractionally better than he had when he’d been unconscious. Like whatever his magic drained from him has yet to fully return.
“We had a slight tussle,” he replies lightly. “And were laying low while I recovered.”
“A slight tussle?” Sam repeats. “Niko, we’ve been searching for you for three days!”
I whip my head to Niko in shock. Three days? How is that possible? We’d been in the cave for six hours at most, the tide only rising and receding once. Then I remember his words, the ones I’d written off as seizure induced nonsense: the Crocodile eats time itself.
I open my mouth to ask, but Sam isn’t finished. And though his voice is still soft and smooth, there’s a sharp edge of anger beneath it. “When I got back from the Grove, Marina told me you came to the beach to find Willa. And when we got here, there were dead Strayed everywhere. So many of them, Niko.”
Sam’s voice breaks, and his fear pours from the fracture. He’d seen the amount of magic Niko used to protect me, and he’d been terrified at what the cost had been. “We’ve been scouring the island for any sign of either of you. Tiernan is still out searching the mountains. Niko…” Sam swears and shakes his head. “Marina was getting ready to use her magic to find out if Dawson took you alive or dead.”
I glance sidelong at the pixie, wondering what power Letum has granted her, but she has eyes only for Niko. Her expression is vicious as she signs so furiously at him, her entire body shakes with each sharp gesture.
The king, who I’ve never seen give thought to how his actions affect anyone but himself, takes each of her words like a blow to the chest. As each one lands, he flinches, his expression one of resigned guilt. Like he deserves everything she throws at him.
When she’s finished, Niko dips his head in understanding and to my shock, begins to sign back. I stare at him in disbelief as his gloved fingers move gently, wondering what kind of man disfigures someone, and then learns to speak their language. Was it guilt that drove him to it, similar to what exists on his face now? Had he lashed out in a fit of pain and later, tried to make amends? Perhaps this is the version of Niko Marina sees when she looks at him—not the violent tyrant, but the man who learned how to listen to her.
Whatever Niko says appears to soothe both Marina and Sam’s panic, the terror on their face slowly ebbing, giving way to clear relief that their king is alive. The air seems to stretch between the three of them, like tethers are woven through their hearts. Their bodies lean toward each other in a familiarity that makes me ache. For a moment, I think Sam will pull Niko into a hug, but something holds him in place, and he just looks at his friend with an expression torn wide open. Allowing Niko to see everything he felt during his absence.
The moment is so intimate it brings a lump to my throat. I should look away, as none of it is meant for me, but something keeps me frozen in place. Something like dark jealousy and acute longing, that have tangled up in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been alone for so long, there is no one to worry if I don’t return. No one to wait up, no one to ensure I’m okay.
I thought it’s what I wanted. To be invisible. To disappear.
But if there’s no one to hold onto you when you cannot hold onto yourself, what’s to keep you from slipping away entirely? Even Niko, a man filled with horror and death, has people to worry for him. To carry some of the burden of living, to pull him back when he’s wandered too far.
Marina signs again, and for a small, ridiculous, moment, I imagine it’s me her worry is for. Me who understands her words, who she cares for, who she worries about returning home.
I swear to the star above, Niko, if you do something like that to us again, I’ll find a way to strangle you with your own fucking ribbons.
A strangled guffaw of laughter escapes me at Marina’s words. I clamp my hand over my mouth, as all three pairs of eyes snap to mine in surprise. “I’m sorry, I just—”
I just what? Suddenly understood an entire language without any training?
“I—uh…think I got the gist of what you were saying.”
It sounds ridiculous, even to my own ears, but Marina’s brows lower warily. Slowly, she signs, Can you understand this?
My own brow knits together as the sign for ‘ I guess so’ flows easily through my fingers. Like I’ve known the words my entire life. “I don’t know how.”
Marina glances at Niko, her gaze slightly confused and highly suspicious. But if the king has any ideas, he offers no explanation.
His face is calculating as he watches me through narrowed eyes for a beat too long, before that cruel smile returns to his face. “Darling…this may come as a shock to someone like yourself who possesses such an alarming lack of decorum, but it’s considered rude to interrupt conversations you weren’t invited to.”
I shoot him a dirty look, but he’s already turned back to Sam. “Did you bring a carriage, or shall we enjoy a nice walk back to the Lunaedon?”
“You appear to be in perfect shape to walk, sir,” Sam replies flatly. “Not at all like you’ve spent three nights lingering on the edge of death. In tip top shape, really. I’m sure a grueling hike through the woods is just what the doctor ordered.”
My heart leaps at Sam’s words, because though they’re dripping with sarcasm, they’ve solidified my own worries. The unease that pulsed through me as I kneeled beside Niko on the beach, watching as his eyes rolled back and his body contorted; worry that this was not just an episode, but something that could ultimately kill him.
What will happen to Letum if Niko dies? What will happen to me?
What Sam is trying to say is that you look like absolute shit and would probably keel over before we made up the sand, so of course we brought a carriage, Marina adds bluntly.
Niko’s mouth flattens. “You do have a way with words, Rina.” He sighs again, this one of resignation. “I am horribly sorry for worrying you, Samuel,” he says with dramatic patience. “Would you please assist me to where our carriage waits?”
Sam narrows his eyes, not at all appeased. But in the next moment the air draws thick and warm around us, just as it had before I’d fallen asleep in the courtyard. Now, though, I detect the individual tendrils of Sam’s power, the soft caresses and soothing eddies of it. Niko’s eyes roll closed, before blinking slowly back open again. He lets out a small exhale of relief, a groan of pleasure so soft, it brings an embarrassing flush to my skin.
Niko swallows, leaning his head back as Sam’s power washes over him. With a deep breath, he takes his first step toward the forest. His legs wobble slightly beneath him, but Sam makes no move to shoulder his weight.
Instead, he flicks his braids over his shoulder and takes Niko’s boots and cloak from him. “This way, sir,” he says gently.
Slowly, we all make our way up the sand and into the forest. One of the gilded black carriages waits only a few steps into the shadows, and upon seeing its gleaming exterior, a pervasive sense of relief overcomes me that we won’t be trekking further into the depths of the trees.
Niko’s ribbons slither behind him. The plants around him curl and wither with each step, like he’s too exhausted to control his power. As I watch one of the electric blue flowers crumble into dust, a deep sadness washes over me.
Niko winces, his movements stilted and pained as he climbs into the carriage, and the sadness balloons until I feel it in every corner of my chest, a hollow, tragic thing. For him, I realize. How terrible to be surrounded by beauty, to have it so close, and never be able to touch it without destroying its very essence. Perhaps it’s worse than never having it at all.
Marina nods to where Sam and Niko have disappeared into the carriage. I haven’t seen him this bad in a long time. Her gaze isn’t judgmental as she sets it on me, only curious. You’re the one who saved him, aren’t you? That got him into the Crocodile before they could come for him?
I nod. “It was only fair. He saved me first.”
Marina doesn’t appear at all surprised by Niko hurting himself to help me. She only nods, signing, Then I suppose I have to thank you. For bringing him back to us.
When she turns toward the carriage, something has me putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Marina flinches at my touch and I immediately pull away, remembering the expanse of gnarled scars.
“Marina…him choosing to be kind sometimes doesn’t excuse him hurting you.”
Marina stiffens, and her small mouth thins into a sharp line as she raises her chin. Niko does not hurt me.
“I understand now, how much pain he’s in—”
You understand nothing.
“But your voice…your wings…there’s no amount of his pain that means you deserve yours.”
Marina flinches, as if the memories of her missing pieces still pain her. But she gathers herself with admirable strength, her signs fierce and sure, brooking no room for argument. I don’t know how you suddenly understand me, but I’m glad you do, so that you can know this and know it well.
She inhales sharply and plants her feet.
Niko has done a thousand things wrong in his long life. He has death in his heart and in his hands, and it is rare that he can see beyond them. But he has never once hurt me. Not even when I was his enemy, and he had every reason to rot me from the inside out.
My eyes widen at the fierce protectiveness in both her words and her stance. “Then who?” I ask softly.
The last king. Marina’s gaze is both solemn and fearful as she slowly spells out, Pan.