Chapter Eighteen #2
They slept again by the hot springs and the vents of hot air that seeped from the slope of the semidormant volcano. At dawn, they thanked the marmoose again, and ate a breakfast of crabmeat, berries, and nuts before continuing their vigil on the beach and their search for solutions.
She was proud of herself for not kissing him once.
Also, a bit disappointed that he didn’t kiss her.
It was a one-time aberration, she told herself. It won’t—can’t—happen again. He wasn’t going to be in her life long enough for her to allow it to happen again.
She tried not to dwell on how that thought made her feel.
On the third morning, Perri was back. He cavorted in the shallows with a friendly seal until the seal got tired and plopped onto a rock to bask in the sun.
Seeing him, Marin wanted to call out—to ask him if he’d found Silver, if her boat was okay, if they were saved—but she hesitated.
He looked so happy and carefree. Watching the serpent and seal play, Marin felt as if a band around her chest had released.
She could breathe deeply again. She hadn’t even realized how much she was worrying about him, but after the magic storm, it was hard to feel like any of them were safe.
“Hey, Perri!” Marin waved. “Missed you!”
He trumpeted back at her and splashed happily in the waves.
“Any luck?” She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. The sea serpent’s iridescent scales were sparkling in the morning light.
He executed a complicated twisting maneuver, breaching out of the water and then crashing down in the shallows before retreating to swim upside down farther offshore.
Beside her—he seemed to be always beside her, and she couldn’t bring herself to move away—Dax asked, “What did he say?”
“Um … He found … a problem?” Calling to the sea serpent, she said, “Perri, I don’t understand! Did you find the boat?”
He signaled yes.
Yes!
“Is it seaworthy?”
That was the complicated part. It was beached somewhere. Possibly damaged? Definitely damaged. He couldn’t determine how badly.
“Is it on this island?”
No, it was not.
“Is it far?”
It was … a distance. Not an impossible distance.
“Less than a day swim?” she asked.
Yes.
Okay, they could do that, even if Ree hadn’t yet found a reasonable container for water.
All they’d really need was the vine cordage, which Dax had finished.
And Perri’s cooperation. She hesitated, fully aware that she was asking something that most likely no human in history had ever asked a sea serpent.
He might not want two people and a plant on his back.
He might not like ropes wrapped around his body to secure them.
He might not be able to swim with them strapped to his back without accidentally drowning them—actually, she was certain that last worry wasn’t an issue.
He was an excellent swimmer, and she’d seen him swim at the water’s surface for days at a time when he chose to. “Perri…”
Before she could finish the question, he swam toward them, twisted to point his snout at his back, and then twisted again to look directly at them.
Dax laid his arm on Marin’s shoulder. “I think he’s offering to carry us.”
Marin thought so too. In fact, he was being quite emphatic about it.
It was funny—when she’d taken to the sea on Silver, fresh from the pain and humiliation of Iovar’s betrayal, she’d sworn to never trust anyone again, least of all herself.
But here she was, relying not only on herself but also completely trusting a sea serpent, a plant, and a musician who hadn’t even known how to swim when she’d met him.
So much had changed, and she’d barely even noticed it happening.
For the first time, she felt like a captain, despite the fact that she didn’t even have her ship.
“Is that right, Perri? Will you swim us there?”
Yes, he would.
She laughed. “Okay, crew, let’s do this.
Unless you need to rest, Perri?” He shook his fins to say no.
“Do you want to take us now?” He did. Still smiling, she and Dax gathered up the rope he’d made.
She knotted it around her waist and around Dax’s, and she wrapped it around Ree as well, though she planned to hold him on her lap for the journey.
At the edge of the forest, the marmoose watched them. It sat on the clover and nibbled on a crystal leaf. The leaf crackled as the marmoose munched.
“Thank you!” Ree called to it.
Marin and Dax waved.
The marmoose lifted its paw in a languid wave, and then it pushed itself onto all four paws and ambled back into the forest. Its massive antlers brushed against the crystal leaves, and the red-feathered birds sang as they circled above.
Carrying Dax’s rope, Marin waded into the surf. She kept her boots on—they’d fill with water, but that was preferable to leaving them behind. Her pants were instantly soaked.
Perri swam as close to shore as he could until his tender stomach brushed against the sand. Frothy waves crashed against him, but he planted himself firmly and stayed stationary while Marin wrapped the cordage around him.
Dax climbed on board, carrying Ree, and she secured them both, then she climbed up onto his back. His scales were as smooth as metal and cool to the touch. “Is that too tight?” she asked Perri.
He chirped that he was fine.
“Dax? Ree? Are you both secure?” Marin asked.
Perri made a noise as if to say he wouldn’t let any of them fall and was extremely offended that they ever thought he would.
“I know you wouldn’t.” Marin patted his neck. “Just being extra cautious.” She had a tiny bolt of inspiration: “I want Dax to feel safe.”
“I trust—” Dax began.
Marin elbowed him. “Don’t we want Dax to feel safe?”
Perri did want his favorite musician to feel safe.
He settled down, and Ree climbed onto Marin’s lap.
She arranged the rope so that it would keep him tight against her, then she leaned forward—arms on either side of Ree—and held on to the serpent’s muscular shoulders.
Behind her, Dax wrapped his arms around her waist, and Marin was suddenly very aware of how close he was and how right it felt.
Do not get used to this, she scolded herself, but she still noticed the way her body curved against his, the way his breath warmed her neck, and the way her heart beat faster knowing his beat alongside hers.
It was one kiss, and that was all it could ever be.
“Let’s go,” Marin said.
And Perri swam.
He started slow and gentle, gliding away from shore, as smooth as a breath. She felt the breeze on her face, and she thought maybe this would feel like sailing.
Away from the island, Perri increased speed. She felt his muscles clench and release beneath her, and he shot forward as the waves swelled around them.
She’d watched him swim before, but she’d never thought of what it would feel like to be skimming with him on the surface of the water, slicing through it, just above the dark depths. It was intoxicating, like sailing but intensified and without the control.
Dax’s arms tightened around her waist, and she felt the warmth of his body all along her back, the full length of her spine, comforting and wonderful. Ree huddled within her arms.
Perri swam faster.
It felt like riding a scream. The wind shrieked in her ears, but the waves were silent as they sliced through them, giving them no time to crash around Perri’s sinewy body.
The scales beneath Marin’s hands shifted with each movement—he was swimming like a snake, a serpentine sidewinding motion to propel his body forward while staying on the surface.
There were no islands visible. In every direction, the horizon was an unbroken line.
It was an unusual and unsettling sight. Closer to the heart of the Crescent Islands, you could always see an island in the distance, usually several.
Even in most of the outer islands, there were still purple cloud-like smears on the horizon that were distant islands.
On clear days, you could see their silhouettes. But not here.
They were farther out to sea than she’d ever sailed.
She gripped Perri’s scales harder.
As the day wore on, Perri didn’t slow, and the horizon didn’t change.
Around them, the sea rose and fell with its rhythms. She saw a herd of merhorses once, in the distance.
Another time, a whale breached, its white belly exposed to the sun before it crashed back to be subsumed by the water.
She even once thought she saw the tentacle of a distant kraken, but it didn’t bother them and she could have imagined it.
Later, a seabird flew overhead, matching their pace for a while before peeling away, and it was only by watching the bird that Marin spotted the blur of land.
She watched the island grow as they swam closer and closer.
By late afternoon, it was visible: three mountains of gray stone, bare rock exposed to the wind and shaped like knives. Closer, she saw pine trees clumped around its base. Closer still, a ring of more gray rocks as its shore.
And then she spotted it, silver against the gray stone.
Her beloved sailboat.
Halfway up a mountain.