Chapter Forty Three
MILA
The sea sloshed around the Rosenvatten, loose as a drunken sailor.
Her slowing clip ground to a halt as soon as Einar commanded it with a bark and scurrying feet.
Sea air drifted through the cabin where Pedr lay on his berth, under Mila’s care.
He didn’t even twitch. The spiderwebbing veins across his cheek kept distracting her from what she should focus on.
An ocean dive that awaited, and a return to the home she never knew, where an anchor may snap her to it at any moment and prevent her release.
From Pedr’s cabin window, she watched her sire angle his body to face the sea, breathing deeply. With his hands folded behind his back, nose in the wind, Draven cut a lithe figure. In unguarded moments like this, she could almost see a relaxed wyvern.
Coming into the cabin, Draven pronounced, “This is it. I can sense great arcane below us.”
His words made Mila dizzy. They’d arrived at destiny. She reached for a silky black cloak, folded on the table, and twirled it onto her back. The ribbons tied around her neck, another at her waist to prevent fluttering and drag.
Einar yanked on a fresh shirt, tugged it over the diasvard on his belt, put one foot into Pedr’s cabin, and called, “I’m ready.”
Draven set a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you ready, dear Mila?”
She lifted her chin. Of course she wasn’t ready—neither was Einar. They both lied. Yet, she’d never been more ready for anything in her life.
“Yes, I am.”
Draven made a noise in this throat, as if he didn’t quite believe her but stopped himself from saying the words. He turned to face her. “It’s the fifth day of Pedr’s curse, and you’re heading into the unknown. There’s a great deal of pressure on you.”
Her nose wrinkled. Trust Draven to call it right out.
Mother wouldn’t have . . . which didn’t make it a good idea.
Mila contemplated ways to dodge answering the question directly when he elevated a single eyebrow in a deepening question.
She sighed. Why fight it? Draven had tenacity down to an art form.
“I’m not ready to face Onskar,” she admitted, adding firmly, “but I’m willing.”
“Spoken like a courageous soul. It’s what I’ve always admired about women. Bravery under pressure. Willingness to go and do without a firm plan. Men are forever seeking control, engagement, battle. Women? They are not so barbaric. Thus they are, I feel, stronger.”
Mila laughed outright. “You’re generous.”
“Honest,” he countered. “Sometimes, what we need the most finds us at the moment of requirement and not a second before.”
She had no idea what to say to that. “I can swim that far,” she concluded, branching into plans ahead, “because I don’t need to breathe, but what about Einar?”
“We’ll see if he is able or not. Help him only if you must. Like the Hall of the Sky, if he cannot touch the door under his own power, the arcane may not allow him to enter.”
Einar slapped a hand on his pectoral, jumped in place, and tilted his head from side to side. Cracks sounded along his spine.
“I’ll be fine.”
Mila swallowed hard before asking the penultimate question, “Will I anchor when I touch the water?”
“I think not.”
“But—”
“You forget that you are half wyvern, my dear Mila. You are not wholly siren, like them. If you did anchor, it would require more time.”
Her gut clenched. I think not. Just like that. A simple no, an explanation that seemed obvious in hindsight, and the massive fears of her childhood dissipated to ash at her sire’s touch. She couldn’t conjure a word.
All of that fear?
Pointless.
She avoided the sea, stressed over the tide, and trembled at the mere thought of a storm, and for what?
Nothing.
She stupidly shared fears that had never been hers to carry.
As if he read her mind, Draven gently said, “Vassi’s paranoia got the best of her and your aunts. The sea is as much your home as the sky, the land. You are wholly a child of the arcane, Mila. For you, it’s different. They forgot that.”
That felt right, though uncomfortable. She released a breath to bring in another one and smell something entirely unexpected: the plumeria of love.
Draven squeezed her shoulder. “You are meant for grand things, Mila dear, and I look forward to the impressive results of your work today. It has been the greatest privilege of my existence to spend this time with you.”
Tears welled up.
“Thank you . . . Father.”
He smiled, but struggled to maintain it while holding back tears. Warmth bled through his features as his hand lowered from her shoulder, becoming all business again.
“Far more souls die on the sea,” Draven said quietly, but quickly, “than in the air, so expect the Hall of the Sea to be far bigger.”
With a hand on the small of her back, he escorted her away from Pedr’s cabin.
Draven nodded toward the stern. How odd, to see the sails rolled up, looming like long arms, the boat eerily calm.
She relaxed, grateful that he made the decision for her.
To leave Pedr there, pale and lifeless and dying, was almost too much to bear.
Einar asked, “Can you make me a . . . what are they called? The thing that Mila had from Jordaire?”
“A talisman?”
“Yes.”
“Not for the Hall of the Sea. The Halls are hallowed, sacred places, which is why your only advantage is for Mila to enter first.”
Mila chewed her bottom lip as they approached the stern rail. She hesitated, twirling a finger into her hair. The environment was totally different in the depths, surrounded by water and permeating cold.
Safe, she reminded herself. I will not anchor. The sea is safe.
The reassurance didn’t work.
After a long pause, Draven said, “As we discussed earlier, you have several advantages, but they require cleverness.”
“My na?veté.”
“And your existence. Onskar will be curious. Keep him guessing because you aren’t what he expects.”
“He expects a competent being with arcane abilities.”
Wryness stole his softness. “No, he expects you to be like him.” With greater intention, and an air of sage wisdom, he added, “You fight who and what you are, Mila, but it may be time to embrace it. There is an awaiting power within that may work to your benefit.”
Mila understood his words all the way to a near-still heart center.
If saving Pedr required her to unleash her inner siren, she would.
The heavy edges of her cloak floated around her legs, the weight a reassuring comfort against what they faced.
It wouldn’t be fun to swim with, but it was important to their plan.
Einar leaped on top of the railing, breaking the expanding moment between father and daughter. “Let’s get this done.”
Mila joined him at the rail with a half smile. “You led the way to the Hall of the Sky, and I will lead to the Hall of the Sea.”
He nodded. “I’ll follow you.”
“Don’t stop,” she commanded.
“Only if I die. If I do, my soul won’t have far to travel, will it?”
She scowled.
Draven shuffled away, brow high. “The current will continue to move and the Rosenvatten will ride it. I shall seek your return constantly. Be as safe as you can. Regardless of what happens, I am proud to know both of you.”