Chapter 61
Sixty-One
The wool of Rett’s cloak drags me deeper until I believe it’ll sink me. I unfasten it and let it fall to the sea floor. With a powerful push and kick, I swim for the top, not knowing if I’ll make it.
As I break the surface, my lungs inflate with gasping, gulping breaths of air, but my ballgown keeps pulling me under the rolling waves, making me snort saltwater through my burning nose and throat. But I don’t give up; I use every muscle in my legs and arms to stay afloat.
At least I’ve landed precisely where I thought I would—the loading docks under the castle kitchens.
Fighting against the choppy water, I swim until I reach the pier. The first half of the harbor is busy and full of men unloading supplies for the wedding, but the back portion is the private wharf, dark with empty rowboats.
If I hurry, they might not see me.
Teeth chattering, I edge around the pillars and hide under the floating platform.
I close my eyes briefly and send a prayer to the Spirit Goddess before I hoist my dripping-wet body into a boat, my knees slamming down with a sharp jolt.
I ignore the pain, wasting no time untying the rope and pushing off with shaking hands.
It isn’t until I row past the underwater cave entrance and into the bay’s unyielding darkness that the dockworkers point and shout at me.
But it’s too late as I disappear from their line of sight. I scan the horizon, but there’s nothing but an endless sea.
Where’s the ship?
The ocean sprays me with cold foam, and my teeth chatter as I search. I row and row until every muscle of mine screams. It starts to rain. Slowly at first, then each drop comes down faster and faster, drenching my already-soaked body.
How will he ever find me now?
My ring finger burns. The bonded lines continue to glow crimson through the gloom and fog and rain. A sinking ache burrows deep into my stomach.
Then…
Like a monster of old, the ivory ship appears over me, vast and imposing. Sailors on board shout commands and adjust ropes and sails. The belly of the magnificent vessel moves past my little rowboat, producing a great wave. I fear I’ll capsize at any moment as I’m violently rocked.
A rope ladder falls, landing nearby. I let go of the oars and lunge. I’ve barely set foot on the bottom rung when the ladder heaves up the ship’s side. The white planks of the ship shimmer as I’m hoisted higher and higher. An intricate carving of a name adorns the wood.
The Cliodna.
With a final pull from above, my body is heaved over the ship’s railing, and I roll onto my stomach. My soaking-wet skirts slap the deck and act like a restraint as I crawl forward on my hands and knees, wondering at the choices that have led me here. I try to breathe, clutching at my bodice.
Raindrops fall on me as I sit on my heels and gaze upward.
Ashland stands over me, holding the other side of the rope ladder in his tightened fists, panting hard breaths of exertion as shadows slick at the corners of his form.
He’s just as I remember, dressed in black armor, a midnight cloak pinned to his onyx breastplate.
Raven hair curls around his temples, slightly longer than before and dripping wet.
My cheeks flush as I glance down. My silver-beaded gown might as well be sheer. The soaked and tattered fabric clings to my shivering breasts, threatening to slip off entirely. We stare at each other, both still breathing hard.
“Must you always be half-dressed whenever I find you?” he asks, that northern accent rumbling like an earthquake. His square jaw is now fully bearded, making him appear even more rugged as he wearily views me from above.
Here I am, exactly as he desires.
And if he gets his way, I’ll become nothing but a ghost. But he doesn’t scare me—not anymore.
He reaches down and offers me help. I ignore it and untangle myself, rising to my feet. Behind him, the sun crests the cloudy horizon, sending dusky rose hues through the fading night sky as the stars disappear one by one.
Without warning, an excruciating pain sears through my finger and into my wrist, enveloping my bones and sinews in fiery agony. Doubled over, I groan and clutch at it, rubbing the skin as if that will rid me of these sensations.
Alarm flashes across Ashland’s contorted face, and Valora yells something at the crewmates.
Ashland rips my clasped hands apart. “Let go,” he snarls, “so I can see it.”
But the pain is too much. I snatch my hand back, hiding it in the folds of my skirt, shielding it. A million little fires erupt under my skin. My breathing quickens as I fail to stay calm.
Ashland is far stronger and easily pries my palm open, revealing the swirling crimson lines spreading from where my ring once was into my entire hand, glowing and pulsing, aching and burning.
He holds my wrist upward between us, his vicious eyes ripping into mine with revulsion. “You agreed to a Bonding Betrothal?” He practically lifts me off my feet as I stand on my tiptoes. He studies my ring finger in the small space wedged between our close bodies.
“I didn’t know this would happen,” I moan, tears falling as the lines sear deeper into my curdling flesh. Remembering Erah’s parting words makes my stomach lurch.
Will my lifeblood consume me?
“Uh… I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but we have a new problem—due south,” Valora warns, sprinting to the ship’s edge, peering at the receding sandstone palace in the distance.
A naval ship with the three-headed lion stamped on its rippling flag chases us with increasing speed as it grows larger and larger into view.
Valora barks a slew of orders to the crew. Every sailor runs to their posts, working together at breakneck speed.
I cry out wordlessly, gasping, trying to make sense of the upheaval.
Ashland stares at me with equal pity and disgust. “You’re bonded to him?” His whispered disbelief while he still holds me in his arms hurts in ways I can’t describe.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” I weep, desperate to change everything—wishing I had a sliver of control.
The pain spreads into my veins.
With a burst of buried strength, I rip away from his clutch and stumble across the rocking ship, tears blurring my vision.
Cannonballs whiz past us, plunging into the ocean’s abyss.
Ashland rushes to join Valora with the crew, ordering them to ready our ammunition.
The sails shift as the winds pick up. What little of the sunrise that remains is now covered in swirling, dark clouds sweeping in from the far horizon.
The Cliodna turns sharply, tilting to an extreme degree. I fall backward until my spine crashes into a mast. I hold on to it as our vessel leans further and further askew.
And then I see it, and my mouth drops into a startled, unspoken scream. In the ocean, a massive whirlpool opens like an eye. It whirls and sucks, ripping the waves out from under our hull as it slowly drags us downward.
Valora yells, “They have control of the water! Our cannons can’t fire from this angle!”
“We’ll crash to the bottom if it doesn’t stop,” screams a sailor. “Someone get the captain!”
“The captain’s a bit busy!” A sailor points up at the highest point of the ship toward a group of men working to saw through a knotted rope that keeps a sail tangled.
But I only have eyes for the tiny glint of emerald and burgundy reflecting off a broad-shouldered figure on the opposing ship.
Rett.
Rett follows me.
“Why won’t he let me go?” I cry out, still cradling my injured hand.
“Because the bond prevents him,” Ashland grunts, straining to reach me. I push off from the mast, hurtling forward. At the same time, he yells, “Tabitha! Hold on!”
I slide down the severely slanted deck and move to the railing closest to Rett.
“Damn it!” Ashland shouts, the cords in his neck bulging as he dodges falling rigging and metal tools.
Static energy raises my hair around me as I stare at the silhouette across the whirlpool. Betrayal now in the form of agonizing pain burns through my hands. I open my palms, fingers outstretched, and sparks flicker.
Thunder rumbles.
He gives me no choice.
Sparks spiral, blending and melding as they drop from my hands. Every surge of pain grows my powers. The strange force lands on the white planks around me and sizzles out. I push harder, and lightning bolts arc from the sky, falling near the Cliodna and into the sea.
Ashland stops moving as he watches me. Tears stream down my face as smoldering sparks fall like snow, but they extinguish as soon as they touch our ship.
Valora screams from far away, “She needs more power! Give her Everfound!”
Ashland withdraws his blackened sword from the sheath at his back. Surprise catches in my throat, and the lightning dissipates across the sky, ceasing to strike.
He places the iridescent pommel in my hand. The jewel glimmers against my skin. Our gazes meet as his fingertips brush mine, and he nods. “I lied to you. I lied about your mother. She did speak to me that night. She made me promise to keep this jewel from her tiara safe. She made me promise to—”
The roaring, overwhelming power in my body takes my speech away. I’ve registered what he’s said, but I have no words. Instead, my fingers wrap tightly around the hilt, and a different energy begins to flow. It’s focused and hot, ready and willing, deadly and mature.
Blade downward, I wield the sword close to my chest with both hands and aim the iridescent jewel at the Delamere ship across the whirlpool. Both of my wrists tremble and falter under the pain of the bond.
Ashland wraps his arms underneath mine and grips my elbows, supporting me so I can keep holding on. His darkness envelops us in curling shadows as his chest cradles me from behind. Black smoke edges my vision as my power courses from the metal.
A blast erupts from the sky, knocking me backward, but he holds me upright.
Lightning crashes onto Rett’s ship.
The sword falls at my feet.
A blaze immediately begins to engulf the sails, racing over the fabric and down the mast until it consumes the entire vessel. Screams and panic fill the dawn.
I shudder, knees weak, but Ashland still doesn’t let me collapse.
Flames consume what little remains of Rett’s ship while we watch, in silent shock and horror, as the sailors jump to their deaths. Parts of their rigging break off into smoldering debris.
The whirlpool slows its spin, returning to normal.
He will live.
He will live.
He will live—I beg the Spirit Goddess. My freedom doesn’t have to begin with his life taken.
Our ship slowly eases back to its rightful position, and I stand a little taller. The pain increases in my hand again, but I don’t move. I only have eyes for Rett.
The last of his ship’s hull goes down, and two tiny lifeboats circle the wreckage. I let out a sob, not able to conceal it any longer.
Ashland frowns at me, and it only makes me cry harder. Our ship continues to turn, to sail away. I pick up Ashland’s sword and hobble, half-sprinting to the stern, dragging the blade along the decking.
“You need a witch-healer to break the curse that’s poisoning you,” Ashland rasps as he follows me—his voice so hoarse that it’s hard to understand him.
But I can’t speak. I can’t respond. I can’t do anything but stare at the little fires dotting the water like gravestones.
He tries to remove his sword from my hand, but my burning fingertips refuse to bend—and my face won’t turn, not even after he grabs my chin and tries to force me to look away.
Finally, he seizes my shoulders and shakes me.
“What’s wrong with you? Let go.” His eyes grow wide, fear multiplying in their silver depths.
My breathing becomes labored as I’m rooted to the spot.
Why is it so hard to breathe?
My esophagus tightens.
Seawater bursts from my lips, and I drop the sword.
Ashland cradles me, his grip tight, yelling to Valora, “She’s drowning—”
“The fucking bond…” She sneers while looking through her spyglass at the wreckage. “The princeling is drowning. If he dies, so does she!”
Ashland lets out a string of vile curses as I taste seaweed. A pressure builds from my head to my straining lungs as water spurts past my tongue, coating it in salt. Valora is right. I am drowning.
No.
Rett’s drowning.
We’re both drowning.
Nothing makes sense. Everything hurts.
A piercing whistle rends the air, and Ashland pulls his fingers out of his mouth. Two shadow hounds growl by his side before leaping over the ship’s edge and disappearing into the waves.
My knees fold.
Strong hands catch me before I hit the deck. Ashland lifts me into his arms, holding me against his chest.
My eyes bulge as my thoughts go to a dark recess. Maybe this would help get him closer to ending his family’s curse, and both of our kingdoms will rejoice at my death. Perhaps they shouldn’t save me at all…
Silver irises lock onto mine. Tightening his embrace, he demands, “Breathe!” Shadows drape around us like a shroud of smoke, filling my nostrils, slinking down my throat, linking me to the breath of his lungs.
I gasp, drenched in his power and essence.
But it isn’t enough.
His desperate face grows more blurry by the second.
A crash of paws lands on the deck as the shadow hounds drop an emerald body at my feet with a vicious growl. Valora takes me from Ashland’s arms, supporting my limp form the best she can.
I begin convulsing just as Ashland rolls Rett onto his back and brings his fist down onto his chest; a cracking sound splits the air. Water sprays from Rett’s mouth, and he moans.
At the same time, burning liquid streams from my nose, and my throat ejects the last of the seawater until I fall over on my hands and knees, coughing next to Rett.