Chapter Fifteen
MILA
Sunlight broke early, and with a chorus of cawcaw monkeys.
Mila woke long before she opened her eyes, listening to the monkey’s repetitive, hilarious strains. She noted different monkeys with variant calls, and tried to listen for them again. An auditory puzzle, in a way. At her side, Pedr’s body lay so still, yet warm.
So very still.
The calls of the cawcaw monkeys were a soothing awakening against the retreating night, but not as soothing as the tip of Pedr’s finger twining strands of hair around the shell of Mila’s ear. Her lip twitched. She felt him smile, though she hadn’t opened her eyes.
They played this game often. When he sensed her wake, he toyed with her hair.
She pretended to sleep, and absorbed the brushes, the heat, the lack of sound except the ocean.
The dark umber sand beneath her spine, flecked with brilliant amethyst gems here and there, was soft, dry, leading to cascading waves that created frothy white streams.
Mila lazily recalled the string of lovely days they shared under the wide open sunshine on his ship.
Sharing the juicy pulp of a sweet-but-tangy botega fruit, despite its prickly exterior, while walking along the surf.
Laughing when a rogue wave crashed into Pedr from behind, sending him sprawling and sputtering while she doubled over in laughter and skirted away from the water.
For days they’d been nothing but together.
Underneath it all, a ticking clock beat where her heart should have been. Every minute that passed brought them closer to inevitability, tightening her terror like a strap around her ribs. She couldn’t breathe.
Every part of her soul rebelled with the thought of returning to the Westlands. To Mother, her aunts, the spectrals. To fear and bondage. Never breathing the crisp island air, and forgoing islanders, adventures, the places at her fingertips . . .
This world had so much more goodness in it than she’d expected.
Like Pedr.
Her eyes fluttered open. At almost the same moment, he squeezed her arm. His doting stare was the first thing she saw, and butterflies assaulted her stomach.
“Good morning,” he purred. Mila stretched, reaching across his chest and slumping against him. He rolled onto his side to better see her, a smile on his handsome face.
She giggled. “Ta.”
He curled his fingers into her hair, studying her, while the sea continued to sing.
The monkey cacophony expanded when the sun officially cracked the far horizon, their chirping and pealing creating a beautiful strain.
No leaves stirred in the fulsome, evergreen canopy overhead.
They hadn’t spotted a monkey, though she heard nothing but.
They expertly hid in the dark blue-and-green awning overhead. They sang, but didn’t move.
“This is what you wanted me to hear, isn’t it?” she asked, motioning up with a flick of her fingers. “You brought us to Cawana island to hear the monkeys?”
He nodded.
“Their sound is beautiful. The whole island is beautiful. I’ve never seen dark brown sand speckled with purple gems.”
“It exists nowhere but here.”
“Lovely.”
“Pales to you,” he said simply, stroking his bent knuckles down her cheek. She returned the soft caress, twirling her fingers along the back of his neck. So soft. Supple. Strong. Everything perfect.
He carried a somber air this morning. Mila feared to read into what it meant. Sometimes, his mood swung on a moment’s notice. She left him to his emotions, and he re-emerged often.
Pedr stood, swiping sand off his pants and bare chest. He reached a hand down, and she accepted.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s find you some food. We’re close to Narpurra.”
“The currents have been faster than usual.”
He nodded, appearing pleased. Accepting his hand, she asked, “Don’t you experience hunger? I hardly ever see you eat.”
Hand pressed to his stomach, he peered beyond the sand. She expected him not to answer. For the past several weeks, they had carefully and studiously avoided deeper questions. Whatever feelings they shared might shred apart when details pressed upon them.
“Not like I used to,” he admitted, and it was a relief to receive any information beyond what she observed.
Pressing her luck, she asked, “What does that mean?”
“Right before I met you, something happened. I’m still not entirely sure what. I . . .” He trailed away, brow heavy. She smelled the truth on him.
“The something robbed your appetite?”
He rubbed a hand across his chest with a grimace. “And other things, like my need to sleep, or feel thirst.”
“Do you experience either of them?”
Eyes flicking to her, but not lingering, he said a curt, “No.”
“You’re arcane, then?”
“I suppose.”
“An Arcanist?” Her guess was too fast, a bit thready from her nerves. Pedr hesitated, then nodded.
“Yes.”
Mila took the information in with a moment of shock. The confirmation was no surprise, only the timeline.
“How long was right before I met you?” she asked.
“One day.”
He became the Arcanist of the Sea right before they met? What a week that must have been! Weakly, she whispered, “One?”
His gaze darted to hers, widened as if he’d comprehended something. “How do you know about Arcanists?”
“Aren’t they well known? I thought everyone knew about Arcanists.”
“They do, I suppose. Most don’t really care.”
“Don’t care?”
Nodding, he straightened to see her better. A sense of slowing down overcame him, and he studied her closely. “Mila?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you also an Arcanist?”
“No.”
“But you know the arcane? You hardly sleep, hardly drink, hardly eat, too.”
A breathy, “Yes,” escaped her lips. The truth about her aunts and her life sat on the tip of her tongue, but the weight of the rosenvatten bottle in her pocket reminded her that her time with Pedr wouldn’t last forever.
His hand touched her cheek.
“Mila?”
The words, I’m a siren, rose in her throat, but something caught her eye before she released them. Mila’s gaze locked onto something behind his left shoulder and widened.
A storm.
An ominous storm.
The majestic forest under which they slept had blocked out the sight of the accruing clouds until now. Clouds with that bulky ballast, the livid underbellies, and the threatening crack of lightning could come from only one source.
Stinna.
“Pedr,” she breathed, “is that direction west?”
He glanced over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he comprehended the rapidly-building gale. “Yes.” The storm expanded faster than possible. His nostrils widened as he sniffed. Mila didn’t need to mimic him, she already smelled Stinna’s rage in the air. A whimper escaped her.
“Oh, no.”
He whirled around, eyes dilating as he took in her expression. His grip on her arms tightened, but wasn’t painful.
“Mila?”
She wrenched her arms out of his hold. “We must go!” she cried. “We can’t delay. We have to leave.” A gust of wind slammed into her from behind, racing from the east and barreling west.
Calling her.
No, demanding her.
“Himmel!” Mila shouted. “Please! Can you turn her away? Can you fight her?”
Pedr’s frown turned sour. He lifted his upper lip, regarding the belt of purpled black that raced straight for them.
“She said it’s too late,” he whispered. “Your aunts have found us.”
Mila plowed through the sand, a desperate sob building in the back of her throat. Each step felt like an eternity.
No, she silently cried. No, no, no!
Pedr hurried at her back, easily keeping pace. She sensed that he stayed behind her on purpose, one eye on the sky. The wind gusted in a near constant state, attempting to drive the storm away.
It wouldn’t work. Sirens far overpowered the Arcanist, and Stinna would always, always be faster than Himmel. Pedr had no chance, not even with Himmel’s assistance, if he attempted to stand against Stinna. The disparity in arcane abilities was too broad.
The only way to help Pedr was to leave him.
Yet . . . how?
She had nowhere to go, and he wouldn’t abandon her.
His ship waited in the agitating sea, near a dock with his bobbing rowboat. Racing onto the worn dock, droplets from the ocean splashed on Mila’s feet. She felt each one like a sizzle.
Whatever you do, dear girl, a memory of Stulla pitched with frenzied desperation whispered through Mila’s head.
Never touch the sea, nor willingly put your body into it.
Onskar will find you if you do. As the daughter of a siren and a wyvern, your power is too vast for him to ignore, then he shall obliterate your soul.
All of our years on the Westlands have been to keep you safe from him, out of the water. Don’t negate our sacrifice.
Stulla’s fear made no sense. She had told Mila she had great power but why was it so utterly inaccessible to her?
In her freedom, she still hadn’t unlocked arcane use.
The wider world didn’t grant her access to the arcane within, which meant nothing would.
Elestra had been the final frontier to test her theory, her last chance.
A splashing wave caught her by surprise, with the cold slap of water against her ankle bringing her to the present. Pedr’s firm, reassuring thuds followed close behind. They’d have to climb in the rowboat, row to the ship, and hurry out of here.
Then what?
Stinna would pluck her from Pedr’s ship?
If Mila loved Pedr, she’d leave him right now. Tell him to get on his ship and sail away, and let Stinna find her and take her back to the castle.
“Pedr—”
“No.”
He spoke from right behind her, but the hard edge in his tone shocked her more than his proximity.
His hand brushed her back. She jerked her eyes to his, studying him.
He flexed his jaw, head shaking from side to side.
“No, Mila. I won’t leave you here and I won’t let you do anything like escape my protection. ”
“How did you?—”
“I smell your fear.”
She scowled. Of course he did. Arcanist. His fingers curled around her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his. “What will your aunt do?”
“Bring the storm. She’ll try to destroy you with the arcane, then take me where I can never see you again.”
He dismissed it with a half shrug. “We’re fine. The sea arcane will protect us.”
“No, you don’t understand. Stinna will be in the storm. She’ll bring my aunts if she must. All of them.”
Becoming very still, he asked, “How many?”
“Nineteen, plus my mother.”
Pedr’s eyes tapered. Already, the sky leviathan had doubled. It wouldn’t take long before it filled the dome, blocking the morning brilliance. He murmured, “You’re not going anywhere without me, Mila.” He tilted his head back and shouted, “Himmel?”
Another surge of wind barreled into them, churning the sea to white caps. The brutal waters slapped the side of the rowboat, bouncing it up and down. Pedr’s steady awareness turned to a grim frown.
“I see,” he said into the wind. “Thank you.”
Mila clutched his arm. “What did she say?”
“She can take us east, but . . .”
“It’s pointless.”
“So Himmel thinks.”
A wave surged higher, rising onto the dock and wrapping Mila’s ankle. She felt the cool liquid like a hard slap to her chest. Something else existed in the water. In the kiss of it around her skin.
An anchor, and the arcane.
The call of her home world.
The sea.
The reason Mother and her aunts lived in their isolated stone fortress was to keep Mila far from the water. From the element Onskar loved best and visited most. From the arcane that, once it fully embraced her, might never release its powerful treasure. In fact, they didn’t know what it would do.
Today, she felt that subcurrent.
The power.
For the first time since her departure, she allowed herself to listen, and an otherworldly pull responded.
Threatening. Powerful. The arcane beckoned, and for a powerless moment, she longed to respond.
To return to the home in which she’d never ventured.
If the water held her firmly, it would anchor her for a thousand years.
And then what?
As quickly as the longing arrived, it receded. The desire ebbed from her heart like a retreating tide and an explosion drew her into the moment yet again. Thunder cracked, the storm surging overhead. Darkness awaited. Fury. Unbottled rage. Stinna never tempered anything, certainly not when crossed.
“She’s here!” Mila cried, shoving Pedr to the rowboat. “Go!”
A furious wind built in seconds, pressing her to the dock edge. Mila heard Stinna’s livid hiss in the wind.
Miiiiiilaaaaaa.
At the last second, Pedr’s arm wrapped Mila’s waist, clasping her to his body, and kept her from being taken.
“To the ship!” he called.
Mila attempted to shove him away, but her attempts were futile. He wouldn’t release her. “Go, Pedr!” she cried, tears in her eyes. “You must go!”
“Not without you.”
Despite frenzied waves and violent winds, the rowboat didn’t waver. Pedr swept Mila into his arms and ran to the rowboat as the cloud raced closer.
“We’ll be fine!” he shouted. “The sea arcane will protect us until we get to the ship. You can hide in my cabin, and I’ll create a current.
” The rowboat lurched forward, skimming the top of a wave with surprising dexterity.
He held tight to her shoulders and waist, lowering her until her toes touched the bottom.
A few drops of water wetted her feet, as cold as the ice running across Mila’s skin.
There was no protection.
Not anymore.
If she had any hope of distracting Stinna so Pedr could escape, she had only one spot of leverage: herself.
Stinna wouldn’t let Mila touch the water at any cost, so Mila would have to negotiate from the middle of the sea.