38 Imogen
Imogen
I floated over the cool, winking sea. Eyes shut, body strong. My face was to the sun and my hair floated around me in a wide, dark halo. Below me, the water was clear—empty. Down to the seafloor, I could not tether my power to anything at all but the sea itself.
As it should be, I thought. Right.
I opened my eyes and marveled at the bright azure sky. I let my arms float out at my sides, let the surface cradle and rock me. By now, I knew the difference between a vision and a dream, and this was the latter. The sky was too lucent; the sea too untroubled. My body too hale.
That didn’t keep me from taking in all that I could of the water’s touch, the day’s warmth, the soft curl of the wind over my wet skin. I reveled in it, savored it like it was a final, desperate farewell shared with a parting lover.
Soon the grip of reality would firm its hold.
The first thing I saw when I opened my swollen eyes was Agatha.
She reclined on the stateroom settee, legs crossed at the ankles, her blue silk gown cascading to the floor in a sunlit wave.
On the floor, with his back leaning against the same settee, Lachlan polished a piece of his golden armor with a neatly folded cloth.
Her hand played idly with the back of his collar.
The Eleuthios rocked over a gentle sea, and a salty breeze blew in from the open windows, over the bed where I lay.
I blinked, feeling wholly disoriented. Everything, everyone, felt so light.
Even the way my body ached was temperate, the pain at the surface. I closed my eyes again and pressed my cheek into the soft pillow that smelled of vetiver soap and earth and the light, sweet note of Varya’s vining flowers.
Like Theo.
I looked once more at Agatha and Lach, and this time, he was looking back. Eyes twinkling, he gave a teasing, halfhearted wince. “Still looking like shit, Imogen,” he said, mouth curving in an impish smile.
Agatha gasped and looked up at me too. Her brown eyes were hopeful and aglow. “Stop it,” she said, swatting the back of Lachlan’s head, then rising quickly from the settee. “She looks much better.”
Lachlan smiled and set his armor aside. “Everyone looks better once the black blood stops oozing.”
Agatha tossed the book she’d been reading at him and rushed to my side. “Ignore him.” She settled on the edge of the bed beside me and raised a glass of water to my dry lips. “How do you feel?”
I pushed myself up. “Hmm.” I took a sip. Took stock of myself and winced when I felt the deep hurt in my shoulder… where my wing had been. My breath caught. “Tender.”
“I’ll be right back,” Lachlan said, as he made his way toward the door.
Agatha smiled at Lachlan over her shoulder then took my hand. “I killed Eusia,” she said in a rush, as if she couldn’t contain it a moment longer. She shrugged. “Well, we all did, I suppose. But the spell I performed…” Somehow her smile grew wider. “It worked.”
I was stunned into silence as my memories started to slowly surface, but I gave Agatha a wide smile back. I’d never seen her like this. Joy emanated from the very heart of her, unlike the brittle happiness she used to don like a mantle.
“You’re happy.” I closed my eyes, smile lingering on my lips. “Good. I’ll miss you, but how wonderful—”
“Miss me?” She scowled. “Why on earth will you miss me?”
“You have Lach—”
“Where will I go when I need a break from him? Where will I sleep when he’s away or when we’ve had a fight?
” Her face softened. “Life would be incomplete if you weren’t close, Imogen.
So we will be. You won’t miss me at all.
” She patted my hand like we’d made a pact.
“Lachlan will just have to deal with it.”
I nodded, as the lump of tears in my throat refused to let me speak.
Agatha rose quickly and straightened her skirt, businesslike. “You’ve been asleep for three days. You’re still pale, though, so you stay put. Another two or so days until we reach port—”
The door swung open with such force, I thought its stained-glass window might shatter. Theodore stepped inside, then froze. His hat was worn low, and he had a wind-whipped look about him, cheeks flushed and hair misted. Fervid eyes beheld me from beneath the shadow of his brim.
I pushed myself up straighter in the bed, chest suddenly aching at the sight of him.
Agatha gathered her skirt in one hand. “I’ll just go…” She gave Theodore the quickest half-curtsy and raced from the stateroom, closing the door behind her.
He stood stock-still, his gaze darting over me, taking in my state. Once satisfied, he removed the tricorn he wore from his head. I watched his throat move with a hard swallow.
“Hello, you,” he said, deep and weak.
“Hello.”
“We’re ahh… we’re just a few days away from Varya.”
I nodded. “Agatha mentioned.”
He nodded back. “When we get there… I thought we’d…
” His hand swiped through his hair uncomfortably.
“I thought we’d throw Lachlan and Agatha a wedding feast. As a thank-you.
They deserve it, I think.” His warm voice sounded graveled, attempting conversational, but his gaze was so ardent and direct that it made my heart twinge.
I fiddled with the tie of the nightgown I wore. “That would be lovely,” I said, softly.
He set his hat on the back of the settee, then walked slowly toward the end of the bed. His eyes glittered. “I’m happy for them. For their marriage…” A crease grew between his dark brows. I’d never seem him like this… uncertain. Sheepish. He gripped the post of the bed. “I, on the other hand…”
Neither of us seemed to be breathing. I forced an inhale. An exhale. “You what?”
He gestured to the end of the bed, asking if he could sit. I nodded. He walked with focus, as if he had to force each step. When he sat, he kept far from my feet, placing his strong hands on his knees.
Those devastating eyes met mine. “I, on the other hand, had my marriage—if we want to call it that—annulled.”
A quiet sound of surprise escaped me. “Did you?” He gave me a small nod, forcing the lock of hair at his brow forward. I wanted to wrap it around my finger. “And has becoming a wifeless, twice-married man made you like this? All bumbling and shy and impressively controlled.”
It was a gentle tease, but it made him somber, made his gaze darken.
“I am holding myself like this because if I don’t, I will rip the covers and clothes from your body and ravish you so completely that you’ll lose all sense of time and place and self.
” His hands went to fists on his knees. “But you’re not well enough for that—yet. So here I sit. Controlled.”
My eyes fell shut as a rush of longing washed over me. “I see.” I opened my eyes, held tight to the covers. “Why don’t you tell me what I’ve missed, then?”
He cleared his throat and tried to casually lean himself against the bedpost, so we better faced each other. A moment later he stood. “I think I’ll pace… while I tell you.”
My answering smile made him still; made him press a hand over his heart, as if it hurt. “What do you remember?” he asked cautiously.
A sharp discomfort filled me as I searched back though the coming memories. “I remember Halla performing a spell on her mother. I remember Eusia dying. Halla holding her in her arms.” My stomach went hollow. My voice broke. “I remember Aleka… my wing—”
He was at my side in a breath, kneeling at the side of the bed, and took my face in his warm hands.
My tears fell fast, and he swiped at them with his thumbs.
“Shhh,” he said, his lips against my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Immy. I’m so sorry. I tried to fix it, but…
I… I could only close the wound. There was so much blood. ”
The devastation of it was speculative. As if it hung above me, and I didn’t know when it would fall. I gave a grateful nod and turned to press my lips to the palm of his hand.
“Did Halla… did she really kill her mother?” I asked through my sniffling.
Theo nodded. “And Agatha performed the same spell to kill Eusia. You must have taken the severing draught at the precise right time. With the spell, and your broken bond, there was nothing left to sustain Eusia.”
When my tears eased, he tried to rise again, but I clung fast to his wrists. “Stay. Please.” I didn’t want the distance. Not after everything.
He inclined his head, and when I moved over in the bed to make space for him, he sat beside me. His strong arm wrapped around my shoulders and tucked me into his side. “I’ll stay,” he mumbled into my hair. “Never leaving you again.”
The ship groaned. It was a gentle day and briny air rolled into the stateroom as the sea swayed and soothed us.
I wanted to take comfort in his words. Never leaving you again.
But they seemed more wish than truth. I burrowed closer, grateful for what I had now, and listened to the heavy drum of his heart.
“Is Halla the empress now?” I finally asked.
“It looks that way. Despite Nivala not naming her as heir. The court seems to adore her.” His voice went thick with concern.
“We left the castle keep quickly after we found you. I demanded we get you on the Eleuthios so I could provide you proper care. I heard from the Obelian guards sent to speak with us that Halla… that she… spent that night in the pool chamber… with Eusia’s body.
I sent them away with a petition for annulment.
” His fingers stroked up and down my arm.
“The next morning, she came here and on the deck she offered me the signed petition, but in exchange…”
I looked up at him. He shifted uncomfortably. “What did she want?”
He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “One of the books on magic.”
I craned further and stared at him with vexed disbelief. “You didn’t—”