Chapter 25
Anya Delemond
Anya stirred her peach porridge, her mind still stuck on her duel with Roderick while Blackbird chattered about her latest readings on wyverns.
She did her best to listen intently, or at least appear so.
Since that night on the deck, each day that passed seemed to make Roderick more at one with the memory she held of the manor.
His hair was soft and loose—not slicked back as he’d usually favored.
His billowing shirt gave way to a hint of chest hair.
The ensemble was a far cry from the high collar and tight cravat of days prior.
He was clearly making some kind of change.
Even the very air about him was lighter.
Happier. But could she trust such a sudden shift?
After all, the finest actors could turn in a moment, and he’d spent his entire life in a farcical play.
But the way he looked at her today…it wasn’t like the first time he asked to court her.
She was no longer a prize to him, or even a princess.
He looked at her like she was so much more.
She fought the urge to fling a spoonful of porridge at the back of his handsome head and pounce him the next time she caught him in the hall alone.
The competing prompts threatened to split her mind in two.
Sextants and astrolabes wouldn’t help her here.
She’d have to spill everything to Blackbird later before she went crazy.
Maybe together they could pick some sense out of this.
“Your Highness! Your Grace! We got trouble!” Deckhand Gail O’Byrne was nearly howling down the steps. “There’s a storm on the horizon!”
The galley filled with anxious murmurs as Anya and Roderick rose from their seats and ran for the stairs. As they met at the doorway, Roderick put a hand on her shoulder.
“I can handle this,” he said quietly. “You need to sleep. It’s just a storm. I’ve sailed through much worse.”
“I’ll do no such thing. We’ll handle this together.”
Instead of protesting, insisting this was no task for her, not her place, far from the reason she was brought aboard, he merely nodded.
“All right then.” He gestured to the steps. “Ladies first.”
Perhaps a man could learn.
The blue skies that had observed their duel were slowly being eaten away from the outside in, consumed by dark clouds and rolling fog heading straight for the Lupus Star.
“When did it appear?” Roderick asked, turning to Gail.
“Just a minute before I called for ya. Never seen anything like it! Appeared like smoke from a fire!”
“What do you think?” Roderick turned to Anya.
She paced the deck. “The Lupus Star tops out at six knots, and the average storm moves at twelve. We can’t outrun it, and it’s too deep to drop anchor.”
Lightning zipped overhead, followed by a hollow crack of thunder. The floodgates opened wide, showering them with thick, globular drops of rain.
That answered her question. This was going to be one hell of a storm.
Anya called up to Ornella on the stern. “Reef the sails! I want this ship at a single knot while we weather the storm!”
“Aye aye!” Ornella jumped down from the stern onto the main deck. Gail climbed the rigging ropes with ease.
“I’ll mind the crew below and leave topside to you.” Roderick disappeared into the lower decks.
The reefing was well underway as Anya jogged to the rigging, then froze at the sight of a bird on the main cross mast.
What kind of bird was it? It was dark like a crow, but with an ashy gray beak and shaggy feathers. She couldn’t think of a single seabird with black coloring.
“My Lady, what is going on? What are you looking at?” Blackbird asked, trotting up to her.
“You know fauna better than anyone. Do you see that bird?”
Blackbird squinted up at the bird. It seemed to be staring back at them.
“It’s an eagle,” Blackbird answered, sounding surprised herself. “What is a land bird doing all the way out here?”
A land bird.
“Bless your stars, you feathery little bastard!” Anya whooped and ran to the stern, spinning the wheel to the west until they were on a diagonal course for Aquillas.
They had to be close to a passage.
There were no stars, no maps or tomes that told her this was it. Just a bizarre bird and the gut feeling of a true sailor. It went against all academic principle.
“Helm’s Alee, Captain. Keep this course no matter what.” She stepped back from the helm, relinquishing control to Captain Verden.
“Yes, ma’am!”
Anya climbed the rigging and got to work furling the starboard side of the main sails, sinking her claws into the thick ropes. More deckhands would be topside once the belly was shut up tight, but there wasn’t a moment to waste.
Waves churned the ship in every direction, bucking the bow and stern back and forth.
The sky lit up with a thunderous crack. Pebbles of ice pounded her head.
Yomira sat on the edge of the stern, shielding Captain Verden with a wing.
A long ripping sound drew Anya’s eye to the aft sail—sliced right down the middle.
“Furl them all!” Anya shouted. “The ice can rip right through!”
“All hands on deck!” Ornella echoed, shouting into the belly of the ship. “If you aren’t pumping the bilge, I want all tails topside now!”
Deckhands filed up and scattered in every direction, furling the nearest sails in tandem.
“Anya!” Blackbird shouted. “Get down from there!”
“Someone has to get these sails!” Anya called back with a grunt. Icy rain flooded her eyes as she climbed to the highest fore sail.
“Your Highness! With me!” Gail held the starboard side of the sail’s rope, ready to pull.
Anya nodded. “On three!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
She summoned every ounce of strength into one strong heave, but the sail only made it halfway up.
“Again!” Anya shouted, struggling to keep her balance as the ship listed to the side.
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
She growled, digging her claws deeper into the rope. With a final pull, the sail coiled up tight.
“I’ll tie it off!” Gail shouted, crawling onto the cross mast.
Roderick’s voice came from below as Anya slowly began her descent.
“Bernard, go check on Annette, then double check the hatches!”
“Aye aye!”
A monstrous wave slammed against the port side, flooding the deck and flowing down the steps.
Roderick’s commands carried over the howling winds.
“Octavio! Get Lady Rowan below deck! Now!”
Fear drove Anya’s descent as she swung down, landing beside Roderick.
“What is it like below?” she panted, swiping water from her forehead.
“About as good as up here,” he answered, slicking his hair back.
The ship quaked as a colossal wave drowned the stern, knocking Yomira off her feet. Captain Verden slammed against the helm with a shout and a sailor’s curse.
“Yomira!” Roderick yelled.
“Captain!”
They ran to the stern. The captain was muttering curses, a single hand held to his head. “Kelpie-lickin’ son-of-a blubber belchin’ bastard…”
Anya hoisted the captain up.
Yomira roared, each terrifying bellow blending with the cacophony of thunder overhead. The pupil within Yomira’s single ruby eye was a tiny, fearful slit. Roderick went straight to her without an ounce of fear.
The wyvern huffed through her nares, craning her neck to keep him in her sights. On the surface, she was all predator—but Roderick approached her as a frightened friend. He held his hands up as he drew closer. “Shh, Yomira, it’s all right, You’re not in the dungeon. It’s me. It’s just me.”
Screeeeeeeee!
Tiny sparks flashed in the wyvern’s throat.
Roderick didn’t flinch. He took a bold step and hugged Yomira around the neck, rubbing her scales in soothing circles. The screeches slowly subsided, devolving into anxious grumbles. It seemed the talk of the lord’s beast-taming ability was no idle chatter. He was truly incredible.
Would he see beyond her beastly side the same?
The captain’s head lolled against Anya’s shoulder, pulling her out of her awe. Sticky warmth soaked into her dress.
Blood.
“Ornella! Take the captain below!”
Ornella clambered up the slippery steps. Her eyes flared wide as she locked her sights on the captain.
“Captain!” Ornella hoisted him up with a supportive arm. Anya took over the helm and tugged it hard against the waves.
“We can handle this!” Roderick called over, holding Yomira’s snout. Ornella nodded and ushered the captain down the steps.
“Is Yomira all right?” Anya gritted her teeth as the rudder threatened to give in to the pounding waves. Rain pounded against the sails, whipping nearly horizontal.
The wyvern grumbled and shook her head up and down.
“She’s fine now!”
“Fantastic,” Anya growled. “Now—come help me!” The rod of the helm creaked in protest. Her arms did the same, shaking with effort. If the rod shattered, they would be at the mercy of the wind and waves, and lose precious days while a repair was made—if it could even be fixed.
Roderick ran up behind her, placing his hands beside hers. His breath was hot, heavy, and exhausted against her neck as he pulled westward, but with their combined strength, the rudder stopped wavering.
A tidal wave shattered against the ship, blinding them in its icy spray.
“Remind me why we’re worried about steering at a time like this?” Roderick yelled.
“We’re close to a passage to Aquillas!”
“How do you know?”
“Just trust me!”
The ship groaned beneath their feet as they tugged against the next wave.
“Roderick!” Sir Oshfeldt shouted from the main deck. “I think the storm is magic!”
“It’s bad, I know!”
“No, I think the storm is actually magic!”
“How do you know?”
“Blackbird! Let’s try it!” Sir Oshfeldt guided Lady Rowan up the steps to the stern.
“Blackbird! Get below deck, now!” Anya yelled.
“Please, Anya! You have to trust me!”
This was the time for Anya to take Blackbird’s words to heart—so she swallowed her protests and nodded.
Blackbird and Sir Oshfeldt pressed their palms against each other.
Blackbird’s brows knit together as little flares of purple mana sputtered from her fingers.
Anya had never seen her lady-in-waiting manifest such a strong energy.
Growing up, Blackbird’s magic had only been a fun way to light a candle, maybe make a flower bloom on a good day.
Sir Oshfeldt’s mana came much quicker, in sleek, silvery streams like his hair. It wound together with Blackbird’s, forming a bright orb just above the tips of their fingers.
“Ah! I can’t keep going!” Blackbird cried. “It hurts!”
“You can do this!” Anya called. “I know you can!”
With a final shout from Blackbird, the orb shot into the air. The sky crackled and boomed as their magic lit up the clouds, spreading to the north in glowing spiderwebs.
“Our mana is attracted to the mana in the storm!” Sir Oshfeldt shouted.
Magic like this surely meant a passage was near.
“So, what do we do?” Roderick pressed closer against Anya, placing his hands atop hers. They were both soaked and shivering, but his warmth was a welcome comfort.
“Every spell runs out of mana sometime!” Sir Oshfeldt yelled, shielding Blackbird from the icy spray. “We just have to hold on!”
The mother of all waves crashed against the ship. The main mast above swayed and creaked, threatening to wrest itself from its footing below deck.
“Yomira! Brace the mast!” Roderick shouted. With two strong wing beats, Yomira was on the main deck, shoving her weight against the tipping mast.
Anya’s focus was splintered: Blackbird, the mast, the crew below deck—the children, the ripped sails, the rod of the helm, how close they were to the shore; then her stomach lurched as the stern dipped into the sea.
Her grip slipped from the helm, followed by her footing.
Roderick caught her by the wrist, but his fingers lost her as another wave slammed against the port side, pulling her down with it.
“Anya!” Blackbird cried, trying to free herself from Sir Oshfeldt’s grip. The knight held fast to the rigging. “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Octavio, keep her there!” Roderick ordered, sliding down the deck toward Anya.
“Ah!” Anya cried out as her back collided with the baluster and toppled over it.
Her claws dug into the sopping wood, but their hold was no match for the forces of nature.
The ship bucked up as the water rushed off the stern.
Roderick reached over the side as she fell, so desperately she feared he would follow.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
The sea was a crashing, howling behemoth in league with the sky above.
Her body cracked the surface of the foamy sea, plunging into the depths below.
She forced a bubble out to orient herself, then swam after it.
Though the water was thick and cold, her muscles burned with each stroke. Sharp pain built in her chest.
She broke through the surface with a gasp, eyes stinging with salt.
A crack of lightning lit a rope flying through the air.
Her desperate fight against the waves was a fool’s errand.
Every stroke was hardly a nuisance to the towering swells.
Each one carried her farther and farther from the Lupus Star.
Not even the stars were there to comfort her, to look upon her watery journey to the Eternal. Fear coursed through her veins for a split second. The children. Would they survive if she failed?
Of course they would.
It wasn’t just her on this expedition.
The memory of Roderick’s passionate speech at the Council session, his soothing story to Mabel, the dedication he put into all his work on the Lupus Star assuaged her fear.
He wouldn’t rest until he finished the expedition.
He would return with armfuls of mana stones and eat enough berries with Mabel for the both of them. She just knew it.
She never expected him to be a source of comfort in her final moments—but there was a lot about him that was unexpected, both in word and deed.
Sounds like only a matter of time before you find your way straight to the heavens.
Such a dream would never come to be. She would sink to the sea floor and be forever separated from her beloved night sky until she walked the earth in a new form. Her hitching breaths drew in more mist than air. The churning monster around her was unbothered by her tears.
“Hang on…”
“…Anya!”
Roderick.
Why did she run and hide?
Why didn’t she let her heart live? She’d been drowning it—drowning it slowly with every drop of fear and doubt…
and now the rest of her would follow, weighed down by it all.
Even a broken heart was alive. Heartbreak bore proof of careful pruning, making way for blooms born of love.
But she hadn’t done even that—she’d cut off the slightest hint of a bud, forbidding spring flowers.
She let herself fall into the comfort of the willow tree dream, the warmth of sleeping in Roderick’s embrace, and the sweet promise of an evening of stars with him by her side.
But this time, she wouldn’t wake up.