Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Ever
The damn sway of the ship, now I’m familiar with it, is determined to lull me into believing I’m content. I’m not. As I force myself awake, I remember, and any feeling of ease vanishes.
Fenix. Names. Our parents’ names. But everything went blank after that, like someone had wiped the memory, as easily as the tide rising to sweep it away and carry it out to sea.
Sitting up, I orient myself, reaching for both the necklace at my throat and the ring on my finger.
My mother’s ring. On the small table are a few sheets of paper and an ink pen.
My legs unfurl, and I scramble to the chair to sit and write everything I remember.
I scribble every drop of information down until my mind is dry, my fingers smudged, and I can’t think straight.
And then I write the two names that Fenix gave me.
Elex and Aerith.
Over and over again.
Parents.
I have their names. And somehow, that soothes a part of my soul and as I ink every letter, write each name into the paper, it’s like they scratch a place out in my heart.
Not for love, for how can they love me if they gave me up?
But for knowledge—a rare gift that I weigh as more precious than love.
I have love.
From Lyle. From Ten.
I take a deep breath and sink into the feeling. Remember the sound of his voice telling me—showing me he loves me—and my blood hums a familiar tune in response.
But information has been kept from me, hoarded away by everyone who’s crossed through my life. And I refuse to accept that anymore.
I stand and pound my fist on the door, “Fenix!” I shout. “Let me out. You can’t keep me locked up in here.” I bang harder until my skin is red and numb. “Fenix! Answer me.”
Footsteps sound from beyond the door, and I step back, waiting to be freed.
“Someone’s cranky in the mornings.”
“Morning?” I question, as my track of time is off.
“Hey, don’t ask me. We were having a nice family breakfast until you blacked out on the floor. It might have been your temper. I can see that’s going to be fun.”
“Are you just going to keep me in this cabin? How do you think I’m going to escape? Swim back to Kirrasia?” My hands grab my hips, and I hold onto the ire that sparked this—the kernel of truth that everyone in my entire life has lied to me at some point.
“I think it will take you a little while to swim. We’ll be arriving at our destination tomorrow.”
“Great. And then what?” I shut my mouth and swallow the question I want to ask.
“Even now, you’re refusing to ask the questions I know you must have. Why?” His eyes soften, and I’m hit with the familiarity of them. The same as mine. It’s unnerving, and the possibility that this is all a mistake floats further away.
“Am I on a schedule I don’t know about? Do I need to ask you everything now? You said we arrive tomorrow, so we have time, unless you have something planned for when we do arrive?” I lean against the wall, feigning disinterest, hoping my behaviour will cause him to slip.
There’s nobody lingering in the background, and I have my power back. Let’s see what I can do with Fenix.
My arm thrusts forward to connect with the exposed skin at his neck. I dig my fingers in and wait for the surge of my power and touch to force the connection and hopefully jolt my magic.
But nothing happens.
The rush of water, more than the trickle when I tried to infiltrate his mind, is still there, thundering through me like a storm in a river.
But there’s no violent reaction, no visible result.
There’s something between us, I can feel it, like our powers are two tides meeting and fighting for dominance.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
My fingers dig in harder, and the sheer will to force something builds within me. A chill threads down my hand and along my arm, so I know something is happening, but there’s nothing external that manifests.
Frustration lashes inside of me, needing an outlet, but I rip my hand away instead.
“What were you trying to do?” he asks, his brows pulling into a scowl.
Fight you! I scream inside my head, and for a moment, panic locks up the rest of my thoughts. What if he can read me like Ten? No, no, no, no…
“Very well.”
“Very well, what?” I check.
“If you’re not going to answer me or even be civil, you can wait out the rest of the journey in here. We’ll see if you change your mind about answering me when we arrive.”
He exits and slams the door behind him.
The rock of the ship shifts into a more violent motion through the night, finally rousing me as the waves splash against the tiny windowpane, like my own alarm call.
My hand still grasps the sheets of paper I’d filled with information after the showdown with Fenix yesterday, as if the words could seep into my unconscious and be unlocked while sleeping, unravelling all the secrets within them.
It’s still dark, but there’s a glow of light from under the door.
I wrestle with the idea of getting out of bed and banging on the door again, but that did little for me yesterday.
An evening meal was all the company I got after Fenix locked me back in, and he sent Selina to deliver that to me.
He’s like a child in some ways. Angry that his new toy isn’t playing by his rules. Well, tough shit.
Instead, I unfurl the crinkled pieces of paper and run my eyes over the darker shapes on the page. The words that I let pour from my heart. Not just information and the names of my parents, but what Micah told me. The deception he shared, the truths.
Everything in my mind was inked into those pages as I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle that is my life back into order.
My tears tried to wash away parts, falling onto the sheet and sending the ink dancing into the salty tear stains.
They punctuate the painful parts of my story, and I fall asleep with tears still in my eyes.
As I watch the light under my door, I hear footsteps, voices, and general noises, and I wonder if the storm has dragged everyone from their sleep.
Fenix said we’d arrive today. And after the last two attempts to use my power, I channel all my calm and Kyra’s grounding influence, focusing on the feeling at the centre of my chest—the still well of water.
Calix told me to think of it as colours mixing.
Kyra gave me the water analogy. I pull on the strength of my friends and force myself to be able to wield this gift.
Without the anger and rage my brother seems to elicit from me, it’s easier to stay calm, but it’s as if my emotions are needed here, as if being outside of Kirrasia amplifies them.
The Maker warned me of them and the danger they can lead to, although perhaps she didn’t think of this particular scenario when she did.
My eyes close, my breathing slows, and the crash of the waves outside grows harsher, like they’re trying to attack the boat we’re in. I block that out too, until I’m in the dark. An echoey place, with the gentle hum of power around me, and the sound of water. Dripping.
I look up, and there’s nothing but a blanket of stars, as if I’m the well—deep down in the well—looking out. And the silver glow of Aslendrix crosses into view.
It’s magical. Ethereal, but there’s something real about it. Something visceral. Is this… her? A jolt, like a slap over the perfect sheen of the water’s surface, has my eyes wide open.
Light now filters into the room, and the pendant at my neck is hot, radiant with a warmth I’ve never experienced before, and I wonder if Aslendrix has come to me. If her crossing into view wasn’t a coincidence.
A heavy thud on the door makes me jump. “Time to go,” a murky voice I don’t recognise says, but the lock doesn’t open.
I stand and hastily fold the pieces of paper in my hand into a small square and secure them inside my top, tucked away and hidden as best I can.
“I can’t go anywhere, locked in here,” I snark back.
No response. So, I wait. And the longer I wait, I realise the ship’s stopped moving, the rock and tilt are different now. It’s still buoyant and moves with the ocean, but not the same way it was before.
We’ve arrived.
As the lock finally sounds and as the door opens, I see the man who helped with the books waiting for me outside the door.
“No Fenix?” I walk out.
“No.”
I turn back and see a hessian sack and rope in his hand, and as my eyes flash between the restraints and his face, he smirks.
I dash into a run, but am only met with the sandy shade of the material as someone else shoves it over my head.
My weight drags me into a wall, and my fingers reach to pull the material from my head, but both my hands are seized and bound quickly, before I can find any sense of touch to pull power from.
The instinct to fight, to run, is there, like it’s already charged in my muscles and wanting me to get away, but there’s nowhere I can run to. I don’t know where we are or what Fenix’s aim is. It won’t serve me to fight. Yet.
My muscles relax, and I slow my heart, hoping it gets the message I’m sending to calm down.
There’s a tug on my binds, and I lurch forward, tripping over my feet as I aim to keep vertical and walk forward.
My steps are timid as I edge forward. Surely, they will have to concede and let me see where we’re going, or help me, because there’s no way I’m climbing off this ship with my hands tied.
But I shouldn’t have even thought that.
Because I’m suddenly jutting my tied hands forward, desperate to keep my balance and fighting against a force—Fenix—moving me with his power.
It slithers over my skin, inside my muscles, as my limbs disobey my own mind. I’m flung around with no care, my body obliging to his will. Not to freeze this time, but to move. To animate me, guide me, and know me from my footing.
My jaw clenches as my stomach drops, leaving me a little breathless as wind rushes past me. I’m falling again. But only for a second before I crash back to the ground. Solid ground.
He’s here. Nearby. He’s the only one who could do that.
“Welcome to Nehandun, Ever,” Fenix calls to me.
“So much for trust.”
“Oh, we’ve a long way to go before that fully exists between us, sis.”
Another yank on my binds has me stepping forward, and I begin to walk.
“You let me see the way you escaped out of The Court, but not my arrival here? Are you scared?” I taunt. “Anticipate I’ll escape?”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll be forced to make you stop.”
“What is it, Fenix? Thought we’d be having fun by now?” As I push the last syllable from my mouth, my tongue seizes, locking up, just like before.
At least I know I’m getting to him. And as long as I can keep driving the hate between us, that’s fine with me.
He isn’t my brother with the same eyes as mine looking back at me—the one who holds the answers to buried questions I’m not ready to ask.
He’s the monster who killed my friend and is keeping me from the people I love.
My stumbles and trips grow more frequent the farther we walk as my legs and coordination tire. Nausea rolls through me as I can’t keep track of which way we’re heading. Fenix lessened the hold on my tongue a while back, but not before I thought I was going to choke or suffocate under my hood.
Now, I just get a yank when I falter, making it harder to recover. They knock me down again and again. That’s fine. If they want to do that, let them.
My thirst spiked hours after we left the ship. At least it feels like that.
We’ve travelled through inclines and rocky terrain.
I’ve been cool and hot, but still we trudge.
The ground turns softer, and it sounds like debris and foliage lie beneath my feet, reminding me of the forest. It doesn’t smell the same as I’m stuck breathing the same stale air inside my sack, but could it be…
Light blinds me as my blindfold is lifted, and I squeeze my eyes shut in defence until I can blink and adjust them.
And then I’m falling sideways, shoved against my shoulder until I’m in the dirt. The familiar smell of earth and wood and pine invades, and I’m right back to the vision in Fenix’s head.
Blinking, I clear my eyes and the milky light flickers through the deepest of green trees around us. I stay there, watching the shapes of the grey sky dance between the trees above. It’s mesmerising.
“Our guest is here, I see.” I twist my head to follow the sound of the shrill voice.
The man approaches from the shadows, but even in the dim light, I recognise him as the man Fenix was talking with in the vision I saw in his mind.
I right myself and sit up on the mossy ground as he approaches.
Robes cover his body, and shroud part of his face.
Where the Maker looked like a witch, complete with gaping holes where her eyes once were and a staff, this man looks ancient—like every good thing has been sucked away, leaving nothing but a cruel carcass.
His thin lips reveal stained teeth, chipped and broken as he smiles at me, sending my skin crawling in shivers.
“Sister. This is the Usher.” Fenix speaks from behind me, trapping me between them both.