Chapter 13 #2
Another tendril of shadow dives into his ear, and he stiffens, then gives a firm nod. “Of course. Please, follow us.”
He strides to the center of the longboat where a large drum stands, positioned on its side. He grabs a cloth-wrapped mallet. The other men lower onto benches not visible to my eye. Two long oars slide through discreet openings along the side of the boat and splash into the water.
“Ready, men?” the man bellows as he raises the mallet and strikes the drum. “Row!”
“Hooo,” the men grunt as one, leaning forward and then arching back, dragging the massive oars through the waves. “Rah! Hoo–rah. Hoo–rah.”
Over and over, the men chant as they row, following the beat of the drum. Unnatural wind fills their sails. The boat slices through the blue water with incredible speed.
“Mother save me,” Darius’s voice cuts in, the second dinghy bobbing alongside ours. “I can’t believe we missed all the fun.”
Silas’s narrow eyes land on his friend. “Where were you?”
“Enjoying the ocean air,” he answers.
The departing ship drifts away, and the last of the unease from the standoff slowly fades from my chest, until Draven speaks.
“The fool lost consciousness,” Draven growls, pulling up both oars to rest on his lap.
“What?” My gaze snaps to Darius. “What happened?”
“It was nothing—”
“It’s the curse,” Draven says.
Darius glares at his brother. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he snaps. “Or are you forgetting that I witnessed your body’s gradual decline in the weeks it took for you to fully succumb?”
A muscle in Darius’s jaw ticks. “I was tired.”
“You are cursed,” Draven snarls. “And you damn well almost drowned.”
“You fell in the water,” Rian interrupts.
It’s not a question, but Darius rolls back his shoulders and answers anyway. “I did.”
“Elara.” My name on Rian’s lips makes my heart flip.
I meet the prince’s stare.
“Are you strong enough to assess how far the curse has spread?”
I chew my bottom lip. “Honestly? I don’t know, but I can try.”
He nods, dark eyes holding mine with quiet intensity that makes my toes curl.
Stop it, Elara!
I shake my head once and tear my gaze away.
Blood colors Darius’s cheeks. His eyes gleam. He’s far from the sickly gray male that I first saw in Verdanthia.
But that had been after weeks of unconsciousness. Last I checked, the curse was still a small pebble behind his sternum. Could it really have spread so quickly?
Only one way to find out.
I take a deep breath and pretend like I don’t feel the weight of four Fae’s expectant stares. Closing my eyes, I search for my healing power. I dive into my chest, peering through the blood and tissue, seeking its characteristic warmth.
A spark flickers.
I zero in on the sensation, mentally wrapping my hands around the precious remnant of my power, holding it with care.
I’m so sorry to ask this… I cling to it tighter, afraid it will slip away. But can you help me?
The power flickers once more before releasing what is nothing less than a defeated sigh. Its warmth recedes. An ache settles in my chest.
“I’m sorry.” My eyelids slide open. “My power is too drained.”
Draven curses and shoves the oars off his lap, fisting his hands in his hair.
I avert my eyes.
Darius cracks a smile, but it’s far from genuine. “It’s all right, my love. In a day or two, I have no doubt you’ll fix me right up.”
I wait for a shadow to knock him upside the head for the cheeky endearment, but it never comes.
Silas clears his throat. “We should get going. Before we lose sight of the Virendrellians.”
“Excellent idea.” Darius claps. “Come now, Drav. Stop sulking and pick up those oars. Unless you want your poor, ailing little brother to—”
Now a shadow does strike Darius on the back of the head.
“Hey!” He huffs.
“Sit down and shut up.” Draven grabs the oars, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.
Their dinghy pulls away.
The breeze carries snippets of their continued bickering back to us.
I’m reminded of me and Ferria. We don’t strike each other, though the Gods know we’ve had our disagreements. But underneath the anger, irritation, and frustration, affection always lingers. The same affection that exists between the Fae brothers.
A cough punctures the air.
I turn to find Rian and Silas watching me. “What?”
Silas glances at the bench behind my knees. “We should get going.”
Oh.
The boat rocks when I sit down.
Silas nods and lowers himself to the bench across from me with much more grace than I managed. He lifts two oars and positions them in the water.
Rian remains standing. He’s about a foot away, close enough that his body heat brushes my cheek, joining the warmth of his dark eyes as they drill into the side of my face.
Unable to take it anymore, I tilt my head back and frown. “What?”
Silver flashes through his irises before he smirks. “Nothing, Sunshine. Nothing at all.”
He moves back to the bench behind me. Wood taps wood, followed by a splash as he orients his oars.
The Fae begin to row after the ship, a few dozen feet behind Darius and Draven.
The boat cuts through the water, each wave sending my stomach into a miserable roll as seasickness returns.
Worry for Darius also gnaws at me, but that isn’t what keeps my shoulders tight.
We’re heading for an island where the Shadow Fae are not welcome. And as part of their traveling party, I doubt I’ll be received with open arms, either.
The Virendrellians won’t know I’m bound to the Fae by a debt I cannot yet repay, tethered by the markings embedded in my arms.
I keep my eyes forward, pretending not to feel Rian’s gaze burning into my spine. But it’s there. Steady. Relentless.
I may not know much about Fae law or custom, but I know this much: being coveted by the Shadow Prince is not a blessing.
And as we draw closer to the fabled land where Fae and humans live in harmony, one terrible question settles in my chest.
When Virendrell’s leaders sense Rian’s interest in me, will they offer me protection?
Or use me to punish their enemy?