Chapter 3
three
. . .
Ever
I’m not surprised by the snick and clunk of the lock turning into place after he leaves.
It makes me wonder what Fenix wants with me, though. He’s still not killed me, and he’s gone to a lot of trouble and involved a lot of people in my kidnapping. Although I’m not the only thing they’ve liberated, he’s taken the books, too. What I want to know now is why.
If he and others have the ability to use their power outside the constraints of Aslendrix’s power, is this what Orion was afraid of—why he wanted Ten to spy on me?
I stand and pace the few feet of empty deck in my room before turning and heading back over the same planks of wood. Turn and repeat. Turn and repeat.
Until I feel a shift and the floor seems a little less stable. We’re moving. The sway and pitch are more pronounced than when we were coming aboard.
My stomach takes a moment to adjust to the new sensation.
I grip the desk to keep still, close my eyes to centre my mind, and think of Ten, of our connection, that invisible line that joins us, and tethers us together.
I want to yank on it so hard that there’s no way it could be felt as anything other than a plea—a desperate plea for help.
But right now, I’d settle for a simple answer—to know he was okay and safe.
Safe seems a relative term for anyone who has me as a friend, and I think of Calix and what he tried to do for me. He needs Perrin, or another healer and fast. But without magic, will that be enough?
The key sounds in the lock, metal on metal, until the door creaks open. The woman—Selina—steps over the threshold but doesn’t move farther inside.
“Come with me. You can change into these when you return.” She throws a collection of fabrics onto the chair and waits for me.
She’s older than me, but not as old as the other man she was with. Her hair is dark, almost raven, cut short at the jaw, with a wave to it. Not curly like mine. Her eyes are narrow, and her gaze is nothing but assessing.
Judging.
If she can calm the sea, I’m guessing she isn’t lacking in the power front, so I decide not to pick an argument. I give her the smallest of nods and follow her out of the room. We don’t go far.
Just next door to Fenix’s room. Which, as the door swings open, I see is a huge space compared to my pokey box.
There’s a table in the centre with books and parchments stacked upon it, a bed stowed in the corner, and on the far wall, underneath a set of stained-glass windows letting in a poor show of evening light, is a copper bath.
“It’s all yours. Water should be warm. I’ll wait outside. Call when you’re finished.” She closes the door, locking me inside.
The urge to utilise this time to spy on anything and everything he’s left out is overwhelming, and I rush to the table first. It reminds me of Orion’s office—an untidy chaos of information before me, with no obvious starting place.
Books. Maps. A journal—his? Bound in thick leather. I’ve not opened mine in weeks, not since arriving in Kirrasia.
I don’t recognise the maps. They don’t show Estereah or anything I can make out as Kirrasia. But then, am I that well-versed to identify them?
Scribbles, markings, targets, or identifiers decorate the drawings with lines crossed and recrossed in different coloured inks.
The information swamps my mind, triggering more questions, which I’m ill-equipped to answer.
So, I take a deep, steadying breath and give up, before undressing.
As I dump my clothes, I realise that Fenix wasn’t wrong about my scent, and I eagerly step into the lukewarm water, the first I’ve seen in days.
There’s a small wooden stool with a bar of creamy soap, and I use the time to scrub myself clean, including my hair.
The water turns tepid before I’ve finished rinsing, and I use the small cloth to dry off.
The smell of lavender lingers, and I eye my dirty clothes warily.
I look around the room and spot a wooden wardrobe.
He didn’t say I couldn’t, so I take a look, and happily liberate a cotton shirt that does a great job of covering me, at least until I’m back to my own cabin, where I can change.
Selina knocks on the door before opening it, giving me a flat, cold look that tells me she doesn’t approve of my choice of dress, but she doesn’t speak. She leads me back into my room, then closes and locks the door behind me.
With nothing else to do, I change into the rest of the clothes provided for me and wait.
At least it’s comfortable.
At least it’s light.
At least I’m clean.
I pick over any small positives I can, an attempt to shore up my defences against the prospects ahead of me. Everything else might be stacked against me, but I’m alive. Ten is alive. Kyra is alive. Calix is alive.
My mind runs to Lyle, and I stumble on doubts that seem to have only grown.
Doubts that cast my entire childhood into shadow and question.
Stars, I’d love to speak to her. To be safe enough to get over the relief of seeing her again, but then to really see her and confront her. What else has she hidden from me?
The grate of the lock turning stills my heart for a second, and I scootch myself off the bed and stand, balling my fists at my side.
Fenix appears, with a tray balanced in his free hand.
“I brought you some food.” My stomach wakes at the smell of herbs and vegetables, turning violent and urgent.
He places the tray on the platform bed behind me and grabs the chair, setting up a makeshift table.
Instead of leaving me, though, he closes us in, using the door to lean on.
It’s been a hell of a day, and I’m not too proud to go ahead and eat when I have the opportunity. I take the seat and pick up the wooden spoon.
“You’ve helped yourself to my things, I see.”
I shrug and scoop up a mouthful of the thick stew, salivating before it even hits my tongue.
“You said I needed to bathe. I wasn’t going to contaminate myself with dirty clothing.”
“Very well. Anything else?”
Is he seriously asking? I keep a steady pace of spoon to mouth, finishing the contents before starting on the bread.
I rip it and bring it to my mouth, inhaling deeply, allowing the comfort the scent evokes to bloom in my chest just for a second.
Memories begin to surface, but I lock those away until I’m alone.
“I’d like something to write with.” Keeping track of what I’ve seen, where we went, and anything else that I might need is the only thing that may keep me sane.
And relying on my jumbled memory won’t work.
There’s too much I’m trying to hold onto as it is.
Plus, who knows? I might be able to send a letter somehow.
Leave a clue… “And to write on, just in case you think you can be clever and trick me with specifics.” I continue to pull the bread apart and savour it as best I can.
“You lack trust.”
My hand pauses, and I turn to eye him. “You stole me away, dropped me off a cliff, and I’m assuming, sent guards to try it before. Did you know they tried to hurt me?” I don’t point out that they tried to remove my necklace, just in case they decide to do it again, and succeed.
“Okay. We can work on that.”
“No, we can’t. And stop trying to be anything more than the man who murdered my friend and tried to kill another.
” I reset the boundaries after the acts of kindness.
He’s trying to get on my good side, and there’s a huge part of me that wants to fall for everything he’s showing me now.
But I can’t forget. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” A non-answer.
“And you tell me I’m untrusting. Who am I going to tell? Given I didn’t even know Kirrasia existed until recently, you could make up a name, and I wouldn’t know.”
“I see you’re not quite over that part then.” He scoffs.
“That part? What, the lied to my entire life part? I’m sorry, who the fuck are you to judge?
” My anger rises, but with it, so does a vibration of energy, an echo, and for the first time since waking up, I feel my power.
I turn back to my empty bowl and reach for the pendant.
It’s no longer cold, but warming, gently.
I swallow my relief, not wanting to let Fenix know.
“In my experience, people lie for a reason,” he says, as if that’s a defence. “Sometimes even a good one. They can have good intentions.”
“Are you seriously standing there talking to me about good intentions? Like you had good intentions towards Micah. Or Calix.”
“My intention on both those occasions was towards you, not them. I think you’ll find I’m extremely loyal. A trait, I can already see we share, Sister.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I still don’t know if I can believe you or not. You said you’d give me answers, and I’ve heard nothing.”
He pauses and shifts his weight from one leg to the other, as if he’s uncomfortable being shown a flaw or weakness. “Fine. What would you like to know?”
I swivel in my seat and stare at him. “How long is the journey, and where are we going, and what do you want from me?” His green eyes flash, for just a moment, but that’s all I need.
They aren’t the questions he was expecting I’d ask, and I know my reasons for holding back.
There’s a list of them I’d be happy to scribble down so I don’t forget a single one, but standing tall at the front of the queue is the fact that I’m not ready to accept anything he says as truth.
Not yet. And if he starts to tell me about my parents, I’m going to hate him.
And them. And nothing he says will mean anything to me, even if it’s the truth.
“You know, I think I’ll come back when you’re prepared to take this seriously.” He turns, but eyes me for a moment, and lets the brotherly facade he’s been practising since we boarded, slip.
“I’m sorry, you’re angry?” I check.
“No, not angry. Disappointed. I’ve been waiting a long time for this, and you squander my generosity with inane questions.” The door opens, and the sound of the lock clicks back into place before I can change his mind.
At least I beat him. I held back and didn’t take all the bait.
The pitch and sway of the boat is surprisingly relaxing.
It even distracts me enough from the situation to close my eyes and focus on the gentle hum of my power returning.
It’s slow, as if waking up from a deep sleep.
The kind that makes you wish you could close your eyes and fall back under.
The well at the centre of my chest feels sluggish, and I wonder if it’s because I’m not in Kirrasia anymore—if this is what Ten described when he crossed the border into Estereah.
It doesn’t dissuade me from picturing Kyra sitting next to me on the bed, helping me to focus and channel my power.
Because if there’s ever been a time when I need it, it’s now.
I need all of it. Every drop, every sip, every spark that I’ve built up from training, to be able to try and push my mind and find Ten.
To let him know I’m safe. To make sure he’s safe.
And maybe to warn him. Because I can’t deny how terrifying Fenix is. Especially when he turns his magic on me.
First, I need to work out if he is telling the truth, and if I can do anything against him when my power returns.