Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Theo gently dislodged Lyra from his grip, holding his breath. When she didn't stir or wake, he exhaled in relief, quietly slipping from the room. He forced himself to shut the door behind him, refusing to look back at Lyra's sleeping face.
“Fuck,” Theo muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.
He meant what he said to Lyra. He didn't hold it against her.
If her sister was being held hostage, then Lyra was also a hostage in a different way.
He would do the same for Calum. He just didn't know if Calum would do the same thing for him just yet.
No. He'd do anything for you, Theo tried to remind himself. He's already proven that. Maybe that's the scariest part.
Theo's heart was heavy as he trudged up to the deck of the ship, feeling as though his arrival in Scotland had caused nothing but strife for half a dozen people.
There were going to be lives on his hands soon enough.
He couldn't keep on living the way he had been, with Cliodhna’s threats encroaching on his existence every day; it was barely living.
But this? Scotland's entire magical population might be at risk.
Well, maybe not, but Calum was. And his family.
And likely anyone his family loved. And now Lyra. Lyra's sister…
“This was a horrible decision,” Theo grunted, letting the door slam shut behind him as he walked towards the railing.
The sea was rougher now, the boat's rhythmic swaying more prominent under his feet.
The waves were white-capped and rolling, churning the tides beneath the surface, which were visible even from the deck.
They called to him. All he had to do was slip over the railing, and all of this would be over.
The goddess would have what she wanted. Lyra and her sister would be safe. Calum's life would go back to normal.
Theo had always been horrifically practical. His previous therapists had called it a defense mechanism. If he removed his emotions from any situation, it was simply a matter of practicality. He wasn't running from his own feelings.
It would have been more jarring if he hadn’t struggled with his mental health, especially into adulthood.
It turned out that was a fairly expected side-effect of being cursed upon your birth and living your life in exile, raised separately from your family.
Most days, Theo thought he was doing pretty well in the mental health department, all things considered.
In this exact moment, the mental exercises his therapist had given him weren't helping.
Theo tightened his grip on the railing. No sooner had his fingers tensed than a huge hand wrapped around the scruff of his neck and yanked him backward.
Theo yelped, a rather undignified sound, and braced himself to go tumbling to the deck.
Instead, the grip stayed firm, supporting Theo while he found his footing.
Theo tried to turn around, but Wyn was holding onto him like an upset mother cat.
Out of the corner of his eye, Theo could see he looked hissing mad too.
Theo didn't say anything, his eyes downcast as he found his footing on the deck.
“I wasn’t… Everything is fine,” he admitted slowly, stumbling over his words. He didn't know what Wyn suspected, but the way he was looking at him, he wasn't entirely unsure Wyn couldn't read his thoughts.
“Would be fine if it wasn’t.” Wyn's normally cheerful voice sounded more serious than Theo imagined possible. “But jumping overboard to give yourself over to a vengeful banshee goddess typically falls under the category of an overreaction.”
Wyn released Theo and gave him a firm pat on the back. He lowered his voice.
“You know, Calum would be a mess if anything happened to you. Especially so soon after making your acquaintance.” Wyn stated it as fact, as if this was something well known about Calum.
Theo blushed, his cheeks going red with embarrassment, as he looked down at his feet.
The sound of the waves surrounding them now taunted him.
“I wouldn't be so sure,” Theo admitted, shame and insecurity ricocheting off of each other in his chest. To his horror, tears started welling up in the back of his eyes.
“I showed up and made a mess of his world.” Theo gestured out towards the horizon, biting his lip.
“Now he's losing resources and has me out on this harebrained quest, trying to stop a goddess who threatened our entire bloodline decades ago.”
“You listen here.” Wyn's hand was back on Theo's neck, guiding him towards a long bench that ran along the edge of the deck. He deposited the young prince there with all the attitude of someone dropping a toddler into a time-out.
“I know you have a particular way of viewing the world, being raised on the run and all.” Wyn crossed his arms over his big chest. “But you have to stop internalizing your very existence as a burden and a problem. Calum doesn't think so, and I’m sure your parents didn't either.”
Theo sucked in a sharp gasp, staring at Wyn. He'd had several therapists over the years who never managed to cut to the quick as fast as the elf.
“Damn,” Theo choked out. “Don't spare any niceties on my account then.”
“I’m sorry,” Wyn quipped in a tone that was not remotely sorry. “Do you need me to coddle your feelings a bit more? I thought you were upset because you feel as though you're something everyone needs to walk on eggshells around.”
“Holy shit.” Theo couldn't help it; he started to laugh.
Wyn had a direct way of dealing with his problems, especially when it came to feelings, which Theo could rather appreciate.
“No, by all means.” He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, motioning for Wyn to continue.
“Anything else about myself I need to know?”
Wyn cracked a smile, sitting down next to Theo.
“You're a good kid. Your brother loves you. You are not a burden to him, to me, to anyone who has volunteered their time to help you.”
Rebuttal was rising in Theo’s throat like a perverted knee-jerk reaction.
“And it might take some time for that to get through your thick skull.” Wyn laughed, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “Not everyone is as adept at navigating their emotional landmines as I am.”
“Ha,” Theo snorted. “I’m sure you're one big green flag.”
Wyn looked confused. “Why would I be a green flag? I'm an elven prince of the Shetland Islands. A flag? I am a sword, if anything.”
Theo laughed, shaking his head back and forth as Wyn's Viking heritage came out in full force. As integrated as the magical world was with its human counterpart, occasional sayings didn’t translate.
“No, it's something that people say these days. Oftentimes, when they're dating? If someone is a red or a green flag.”
“Ah.” Wyn seemed to think this over. “I didn't think we were isolated enough to fall behind on modern vernacular. Then, yes, I am a green flag. That is the good one?”
“Yes, it is. You're a big green flag, Wyn.”
He clapped his hand on Wyn's shoulder, feeling a little lighter. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Theo determined to focus on one day at a time.
“When do you think we'll get to see the men of the Minch?” Theo broke the silence, curious as to when they'd make it to their destination on the open water. Wyn nodded toward the captain’s wheel, which was slightly spinning and shifting on its own, charmed to navigate without Wyn’s constant vigilance.
“There's no faster boat than the Barufakr. Part of that is its fabulous construction, and the other part, of course, is…”
“Magic.” Theo and Wyn finished the sentence at the same time.
“Exactly, my boy. We should be in their territory within the hour, if I'm not mistaken. I wouldn't be surprised if we start to see some of our friends popping up in the waves before long.”
“How will we talk to them?” Theo pushed, curious about how they'd planned this interaction with the men of the Minch.
According to legend, they were notoriously uncommunicative, only their hands appearing above the waves to pull boats down into the depths.
Fallen angels, all reaching up towards heaven for their entirety.
Theo had never been to heaven, but if there were a Christian god who was content to let his angels fall to the earth over one disagreement, he wouldn't spend another second trying to reascend.
“I’m not entirely sure.” Wyn shrugged, appearing very unbothered by the lack of a plan. “I’m sure we'll figure out something when we get there.”
“They'll come to you.” Lyra's voice rang out on the deck. Theo's head snapped towards the sound like a reflex, looking for her. Wyn stiffened. Theo sprang to his feet like an overexcited puppy while Wyn stood slowly, with the attitude of an executioner all around him.
“How do you know that?” Wyn grunted.
Theo elbowed him in the side, which hurt Theo more than it hurt Wyn, but it did have the intended effect of softening Wyn's glare. Barely.
“The creatures of the water talk.” Lyra shrugged, keeping her eyes downcast or focused on Theo, acting like Wyn was a predator she shouldn't make direct eye contact with. She wasn't wrong.
“You've spoken to them before?” Theo perked up, hoping they had a semblance of hope for their plan.
“I haven't, no,” Lyra shook her head, “but I know people who have. Browen didn’t give us any new advice, but the men will make themselves known.”
“People like Cliodhna.” Wyn interrupted, grunting in a vaguely accusatory manner. Theo had never met someone before who had different intonations of grunts and groans, but a Viking elf would be the person to prove him wrong.
“I wouldn't know,” Lyra answered diplomatically.
“The men of the Minch are obsessed with magic.
They have very little themselves, being fallen angels.
If your boat is using magic to travel, which I'm assuming it is, based on how much progress we've made,” Lyra nodded towards the ship's wheel, gently pivoting to the left, “they'll seek you out.”
“Are we in danger?” Theo turned towards the water, scanning it for danger, a reflex he'd honed over the years.
“Not from them, no. They'll be curious, but they won't try to pillage a magical ship like they would a mortal one.” Lyra's answer was confident, but once the words left her mouth, a great clap of thunder shook the sky.
The trio watched with mixed reactions, ranging from stoicism to horror, as the weather changed drastically before their very eyes.
The sky darkened; the wind started to pick up, rocking the ship back and forth on the waves, and rain began.
It started small, just a drizzle, but rapidly escalated until sheets of water were drenching the deck.
It was so sudden that it reminded Theo of something out of ‘The Truman Show’, as though the weather were being controlled on a soundstage, and someone had just flipped the switch for a storm.
“I don't like this!” Wyn hollered, his hair plastered to his face and back, drenched to the bone. He had to shout to be heard over the torrential downpour. “What kind of magic do the men have, Lyra?”
Lyra was the only one who looked completely unperturbed by the weather, the water sluicing off her skin and droplets catching in her hair. Wyn and Theo looked like drowning soldiers, but Theo couldn't help but think that the rain made Lyra look like she was covered in diamonds.
“Well,” she winced, chastised, “the little bit of magic they do have is weather magic.”
“Does this feel like a little bit of weather magic to you?” Wyn shouted, his words echoed by a crack of lightning. Without warning, a wave tipped the boat precariously to one side, the white-capped surf crashing over the deck.
“Comparitively, yes!” Lyra shouted back, crouching lower to the deck as the boat tossed again.
“Compared to what?” Wyn ripped a piece of his shirt sleeve off, tying it into a makeshift headband around his forehead. “A fucking god?”
“Do we have to have this conversation right now?” Theo struggled to be heard over another rolling clap of thunder.
He could see the diameter of the storm was barely a quarter mile, just beyond their reach, the sky was blue, and the ocean was calm.
The Barufakr was trapped in the middle of a hurricane of magical origin, with no eye to offer them any relief.
“Any ideas?” Wyn yelled in Lyra's direction, swiftly making his way across the deck towards the ship's wheel to attempt to keep the boat upright. It may have been reinforced with magic, but against a magical storm, the forces were canceling each other out.
“I’ve got one!” Lyra shouted back before turning to Theo. “But you aren't going to like it.”
Before he could protest, Lyra took off running for the edge of the ship. She jumped over the railing, her body streamlining into a perfect iteration of a swan dive.
The last Theo saw of Lyra before she disappeared into the stormy seas was the flash of green scales on her tail.