Chapter Twenty-Seven The Curse of Honor #2
Kalúe scoffed at the retreat in Reya’s expression. “If you’re going to lead people, you’re going to need to learn when to cut your losses. Consider this a lesson.” She turned to Zantae. “Get us out of here, and if they try anything, lock them all in the brig.”
Kalúe nearly had to follow through on her threat.
Omira had been the most outrageous, storming about the ship all day, threatening anyone and everyone who would listen.
But the Kalterrans were loyal to their captain, and most of them didn’t want to be there anyway.
The sailors’ surety in the decision to turn back was cemented when the fog began to part, the moons and stars peeking out from behind the clouds.
What it revealed was just as chilling: nothing.
There was nothing, save for still, empty black water.
No sound. No life. No movement. Was this truly the edge?
The end of creation? All the more terrifying was the sense that she already knew this place.
The Deep was a doorway to oblivion, and gazing into its depths was, to Reya, like looking into a mirror.
The crew ignored Reya’s menacing glares; several even mumbled expletives in her direction. Short of killing everyone on board, there wasn’t much she could do about the change in course.
There was still one way to save Caelan—a terrible, heinous possibility that had wormed its way into her brain and wouldn’t leave.
Omira and Thance could die. Or rather, Caelan could kill them.
There were intricacies in the wording that Reya knew were important, and if intent was required behind the action of killing, any trickery on their part would only result in two unnecessary deaths.
The language of the curse had also been explicit that Caelan would be entitled to “another sunrise.” So technically speaking, killing Omira and Thance might only buy him an extra dawn.
Or it might not. It was clever, devious, so very like something she would have done.
Reya fought her worst instincts, tempted to tell the twins and let them decide. Caelan would never forgive her. And she wouldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t forgive herself, either.
Also, that solution did nothing to solve her problems. Reya rubbed her forehead. The next decade was going to be the longest of her life.
The hatch grate to her right opened with a groan of metal, and she turned to find Omira climbing out, her face a picture of rage.
Reya wondered what she had done to earn the female’s displeasure.
But when Thance climbed up behind her, holding what appeared to be the brunt of Caelan’s weight, Reya knew Omira’s violent expression was not meant for her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reya balked. “Get him back in bed!”
Caelan used a sheathed Hellfire as a walking stick. “I will not die horizontal.”
“You must be joking,” Reya said. “Seriously, what are you made of, Caelan?”
Reya slid a cutting glare to Thance, who muttered, “If we take him back below, he’ll just crawl back up here.”
“He should be resting.”
“I’m dying,” Caelan ground out. “There’s no changing that now.” Reya opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I will not stay in that cabin another minute. If today is my day, then I will meet Atyx with a sword in my hand beneath the stars.”
A Steelborn death. An Etellinian death.
He knew exactly what those words meant to her. She blew out a breath, and Caelan knew he’d won.
Around them, people were moving about their stations. Omira and Thance mumbled something about going to make themselves useful, leaving Reya and Caelan standing there in a heavy silence.
“There is nothing more you could have done, thief,” he said, each word breathier than the last. The black marks on his jaw were frightening to look at, and the crew gave them a wide berth. “The choice to use magic at the expense of my time was mine to make, not yours.”
Reya crossed her arms and faced the obsidian water. “I shouldn’t have let her turn the ship around. I should have done something. Anything.”
“That’s not who you are.”
She swallowed. “What if it is?”
Caelan stepped closer; he was the same temperature as any human now, and she missed his heat. “You made the right call. So did Kalúe.”
Reya tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t believe I can do this. Maybe I don’t blame her.”
“She’s trying to protect the greatest number of people she can. Including you.”
She sighed. “I suppose that’s it, then. Lennox will be thrilled to know he’s won. He’ll no doubt have concocted several ways for me to spend the next ten years.”
“He won’t. Because you’re going to give him this.” Caelan lifted her hand and folded her fingers around a glowing silver ring.
Reya blinked. “Caelan—”
“Pay your debt. Thance will show you where I stashed your coin.” He gave her a soft smile. “You’re free, thief. No stealing required.”
Reya gaped at him.
“I should have given this to you before we left Port Talluah,” he went on. “I might have prevented this mess. But this is all that remains of my family. I didn’t know how to let it go. As you say, old habits die hard.”
“Caelan, I can’t take this—”
“My fate is decided, Reyanwyn.” Behind them, Zantae shouted a command, and men rushed past as Kalúe propelled them gently through the dark water toward home.
Soon they would be beyond the dead winds, and the limp sails would catch.
“My only regret is that I will not get to see you remake this world.”
“I’m not the one the world needs,” she whispered. Surely she had imagined the slight tremor beneath her feet. “What about Delthian aid?”
“Omira and Thance will go and fight their way into the palace if need be. If I can hold on long enough, I’ll go with them, fight until the curse takes me.”
Reya’s reply was little more than a breath. “Are you so eager to die?”
He brushed a thumb lightly over her jaw. “Not anymore.”
She wanted him to scream at her, to curse her name in his ancient tongue for failing him.
Reya turned her face to the sea so he wouldn’t see the emotion there.
Ahead, she could see the white curve of Shipbreaker Reef.
The stone cutting into her palm should have felt like a victory, but instead it felt like blood money.
Would the All-Gods begrudge her for taking what he offered? What else could she do? She’d risked everything. This was what she needed to be free and to protect the people she loved.
A ripple fanned out across the water in front of her.
Reya gripped the railing hard, and Caelan went preternaturally still. This time, they all felt the tremor. Even Kalúe’s magic paused, sending the ship into a gentle drift as the crew fell into a purgatory of silence. She held her breath.
The ship groaned. She heard gasps all around her, and men rushed to the railing.
Had the All-Gods heard her prayers? For once, had fate come through for her?
With a jolt of energy, Reya opened her mouth to tell Caelan to get back below deck.
Before she got a word out, an orange tentacle speared up from the blackness like a javelin.
“KRAKEN!” Zantae screamed.