Chapter 22
LYRA
They were, indeed, King Balthor’s men. But they didn’t seem to be following us, as unlikely as it seemed. We watched, and waited, as the distant ship kept our course. Every so often, the captain grunted a few words, mostly unintelligible.
With him by our side, there was no more talk of ancient Gyorian, though I’d clearly surprised Terran earlier. It was almost worth knowing, with each discussion, we ventured down an unreturnable path.
Voren vel’kora.
When he first said it, I’d been too surprised to respond. This time, I had been ready with another phrase, one I’d had to pull from the recesses of my training.
Vel’kora dra’ven.
Bound by choice, if you can keep me.
It should have been a game. Words traded in an ancient tongue, nothing more than verbal sparring.
But I knew better.
Terran wasn’t the sort of man to speak carelessly, and I wasn’t the sort to yield without calculating the cost. Already the lines I’d drawn in the sand were blurring.
The relic. The Gate. The balance of Elydor.
Those were the reasons I boarded this ship.
And yet, the more time I spent in Terran’s shadow, the more I wondered if I could truly separate the Gyorian from the mission… or if I even wanted to.
“Not for us, after all.”
I had been so deep in thought, I hadn’t even noticed the ship sailing away.
“A temporary stay.”
Terran gripped the railing in front of him with both hands. I tried not to imagine those hands gripping me.
“I thought Kael had taken a momentary leave of his senses. When we learned he’d changed course,” Terran said, “none could understand it. Until he uttered the words, ‘I will die for her, brother,’ I thought he would return with me. But Kael would not make such a claim unless he meant it.” He pushed back from the railing.
“I thought him weak. A traitor.” His gaze found mine, sharp enough to pin me in place. “Now I’m not so sure.”
For a breath, there was no wind, no creak of the ship, only the press of Terran’s look, heavy with things unsaid.
It was not for me to convince him. Terran had to come to the same realization—that his father was well beyond saving—on his own.
“Mev was the catalyst,” I said instead. “Kael had been long-tortured by his role as a prince of Gyoria. When he served on the Gate Council, he learned tolerance of humans. But after the Gate closed, he reverted back to his old ways of thinking.”
“My father’s ways.”
He could, at least, recognize as much. “Aye. Yet Kael acknowledged the human’s place in his opening speech at the Summit. It was as if… he had to remind himself he hated them. Mev opened his eyes, aye. And I’m not discounting his love for her. But simply saying…”
What was I saying? Could Terran even understand it?
“Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
His answer was so immediate, I knew it to be true.
“Then I cannot possibly explain what it makes someone do. Or how it might change their thinking,” I said quietly.
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away.
“I’m learning,” he murmured.
My heart thudded, the conversation quickly becoming personal as I ignored the implications of that comment.
“I watched it happen,” I tried again to explain. “The more he cared for Mev, it wasn’t as if Kael suddenly changed his thinking completely. But his love for her exposed your father’s prejudices in a way that became harder and harder to ignore. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
He was impossible.
I tried again.
“Did your mother hate humans?”
His expression sharp, Terran’s jaw flexed once more as he warned me not to go there.
Too late. I had and would not relent.
“I know the answer already, of course. As do you. Elydor welcomed them for a reason. Estmere has been a boon in so many ways, their Sight a magic all of its own. If not for your mother’s death, think of how an Elydor with four clans, all equal, could prosper.”
He looked about ready to murder me. And yet… the Terran of a few days past would have cut me off before I’d even finished.
“The Accord of Estmere wasn’t just politics, Terran. Your historians recorded it themselves, that the Sight strengthened the Council’s decisions for two centuries. Even the Gyorian crown acknowledged its worth… until fear rotted what they’d built.”
He sighed, his expression softening.
For a Gyorian.
“It’s back.”
He’d gone completely rigid, standing erect and peering at something I couldn’t see. It took me a moment, and the captain’s shout behind us confirmed it.
“Four of them,” Terran grumbled. “It was a scouting ship.”
We ran to the captain, who was already adjusting the rigging.
“They’ll have Fayette on board,” Terran told Chaleo.
A Thalassari defector who, after challenging and losing to his queen, denounced his clan. I’d never met or encountered him, but his sailing abilities were renowned.
Chaleo grumbled something, though I could only make out “scourge” and “sea.” As he cut a sharper line to put distance between us, I shook my head while the two men plotted how best to lose the small fleet of ships that were attempting to intercept us.
Hundreds… thousands of years and still they underestimated us.
Instead of explaining that Fayette might be a skilled Thalassari sailor but my own companions failed to remember I was, indeed, Aetherian, I calmly made my way to the front of the ship.
I braced myself at the prow, the wind sharp in my lungs.
Closing my eyes, I found the currents above us, the invisible rivers threading through the sky.
I coaxed them down, wrapping them around our sails until the canvas snapped taut and the mast groaned with the sudden burst of force.
The deck lurched underfoot as our bow cut harder through the waves.
Then I reached farther, past the edges of our own wind, to where the fleet bore down on us.
I twisted the currents at their backs, letting them fracture and scatter until their sails sagged.
What wind they caught turned unpredictable, slipping between their masts instead of driving them forward.
The nearest ship tilted awkwardly as the helmsman fought the wheel, momentum bleeding away.
Voices shouted behind me, Terran and Chaleo startled by the sudden change, but I held my focus. The air answered, bending to my will as easily as if I were still a girl racing storms along the cliffs. Our ship surged ahead while the enemy dwindled in the haze.
When I opened my eyes, Terran was there.
“Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“I underestimated you, Lyra of Aetheria.”
“You did,” I agreed. “But I am accustomed to it, especially by—”
“Don’t.”
He knew I’d been about to say “Gyorians.”
“How can we heal a divide we continually name?”
He was right.
We couldn’t.
Our gazes held, the captain no doubt watching our every move. This wasn’t the time. Or place. But with the Aetherian coast fast approaching, it would be soon.
The thought was both thrilling, and terrifying.
“If the wind holds, we will be there by morn,” I said, stating the obvious.
“If it holds?” There was laughter behind his eyes. Terran in this state was without doubt the most attractive man I’d ever encountered.
“You should smile more,” I said softly.
“Continue to give me reasons to,” he answered, breaking eye contact and looking out to where the ships had been, “and I just may.”