Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
An uneasy feeling settled in Wyn’s stomach.
There was an alternative to going back to Edinburgh, but he would be the one suffering in place of Theo.
He didn't like Lyra, but he actively despised Cliodhna.
The odds were stacked against him, and he knew it.
He wasn't going to let people suffer to avoid his own uncomfortable feelings.
It was, however, going to take him a few minutes to steel himself for what was now the inevitable.
Theo was staring out at the water, clearly still thinking about going overboard.
“Theo,” Wyn called out, his voice gruff and foreboding, “we'll go after your girl.”
Theo perked up instantly, not even catching how disgruntled Wyn sounded.
“We can take on the goddess or something. I'm sure of it. All we need to do is…” Theo started rambling, his eyes full of a dangerous optimism, trailing off as he fumbled for any plan whatsoever. He didn't know why Wyn had changed his mind, but he was now determined to prove it was a wise decision.
“No, we cannot take on a goddess,” Wyn grunted, playfully cuffing Theo upside the back of the head. “I knew sirens made a lad thick in the head, but that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”
Theo shrugged, clearly indicating he was listening to whatever Wyn's new plan was.
“Wait here,” Wyn said. His countenance was heavier. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to do, and he knew going after the goddess wasn't going to be a fun time for any of them, even with the additional firepower.
Wyn didn't look behind him as he stomped below deck, making his way to the captain's quarters, which he kept for himself at the end of the galley.
His rooms were similarly designed to the rest of the ship, with dark wood carved in Oseberg-style designs.
Most of the room was taken up by a huge sleigh bed, with a mound of furs that would keep an entire village warm.
Wyn had grown used to running hot in his youth and now preferred sleeping that way, even if everyone he knew thought he was a psychopath for it.
None of this was what Wyn was looking for, though.
For that, he made his way to the small chest at the foot of the bed.
It was carved by one of his mother’s ancestors, a growling wolf gripping a ribbon motif.
It was supposedly charmed to protect whatever cargo you put inside, which, according to Wyn’s mother, meant it had mainly been used for smuggling over the years.
Wyn wasn’t proud of what he kept locked away inside it. He threw the chest open and dug through a couple of sentimental items from his family until he found a small satchel at the bottom of the trunk.
Wyn's hands shook when he picked it up. The tiny contents of a little bag shouldn't affect him so deeply, and yet, he thought he was going to be sick.
The bag weighed ten times what it should, nearly weighing him down as much physically as emotionally.
A shock ran through his veins, his body, and magic physically reacting to the contents he held in his hand.
“God, I hope this won't fucking backfire,” Wyn muttered under his breath.
The carving on the box moved around the wooden surface, the magical wolf sigil coming alive to yip its concerns. Wyn ignored it.
He bunched up the tiny satchel in his hand, despite it nearly burning his skin, and jogged out of his room. He took the stairs two at a time and emerged onto the deck. Without thinking, he stormed towards the stern.
“Wyn? What are you doing?” Theo stopped staring at the water and followed Wyn, sharp on his heels, questioning what he was holding and what the plan was.
Wyn ignored him, too.
There was a large metal basin at the stern of the boat, typically used for signaling fires. Wyn hadn't used it for anything more than mood lighting for parties he'd throw on deck in at least a decade. It stood on three hairpin legs, with Viking ribbons and motifs etched into the lip of the bowl.
Wyn started to sweat. He could practically hear war drums in his head; his heart was beating so loudly.
At least, he thought it was his pulse; it might have been actual war drums. Without any hesitation, Wyn ripped open the tiny satchel, letting it fall to the ground.
Theo bent to pick it up, thinking Wyn had dropped it on purpose.
“Leave it, lad,” Wyn barked harshly, his mind and voice sounding a thousand miles away. Theo backed away slowly, giving Wyn some space, confused and still anxious.
Wyn was holding a tiny, hand-rolled cigarillo.
The paper was dyed bright red, staining Wyn's palms as the ink spread over his skin like blood.
It wasn't made with tobacco, but a strange black incense.
Wyn stared at it in his hands, forcing himself to take a deep breath before tossing it into the basin.
As if lighting a match near gasoline, the basin roared with fire. The flames threatened to spill over the side, licking up into the night air.
“Fuck!”
Theo fell backward, scrambling to get away from the explosion.
Sparks danced up towards the sky, mingling with the clouds.
Wyn didn't move a muscle, even when the heat singed his beard, and the heavy smoke made his eyes water.
The smoke spread out over the deck of the boat, sinking unnaturally, like the smoke was heavier than the air around them.
It flooded the boat like a dense fog, swirling around their ankles.
Wyn kept his eyes on the basin, the fire lighting up his eyes.
Theo jumped to his feet, staring at the peculiar smoke that almost licked and tongued at his legs.
He squinted, studying the bizarre fog until shapes began to appear.
It wasn't like the obscure shapes you pretended to see in clouds as a child, either.
They were heavily detailed and looked nearly solid, despite being made of air.
Long, slender dragons made of smoke, sparks dancing where their eyes should be, started swarming over the deck of the ship.
They slipped and slid around one another, curling against each other and twisting in an impossible knot.
In almost any other situation, Theo would be genuinely concerned they’d get tangled.
The smoke dragons paid him no attention, however, and continued to breathe sparks and disappear into one another.
“Wyn?” Theo broke the silence, looking over at the elven prince. He was still staring at the flames, utterly transfixed. “Please tell me this was part of the plan!” Theo's voice cracked as one of the smoke dragons stood a little taller and looked him in the eye.
“It's part of the plan,” Wyn deadpanned, as if Theo was asking him obvious questions, not responding to the sudden magical fog and roaring fire.
Several loud popping sounds got Theo’s attention, who turned back towards the basin.
The fire was burning even brighter, the flames stretching several feet up into the sky.
It burned so brightly that the center of the basin was pure white, but despite the heat emanating from it, nothing was catching on fire.
The fire started to spin, almost like a tornado, creating a column of flames.
It was almost mythic in its proportions, although Theo would bet good money even the burning bush hadn’t been this intense.
The fire popped, then the wind started to whistle as it picked up, spinning in concentric circles.
Slowly, the sound started to shift. The whistling sound of the wind changed until it sounded like a screaming woman.
“Wyn!” Theo shouted, now fully terrified, “What have you done?”
Theo rushed towards Wyn's side, but Wyn was transfixed. He stared at the fire as if it hadn't become a blaze, and someone wasn't shouting as if they were trapped inside.
Wyn still didn't move.
The flames started to move again, slowing down, shifting from the column of moving flames until Theo could identify the silhouette of a woman.
He could see her hair, the curve of her hips, and even down to her fingertips and toes.
She was entirely made of white flames, standing amid the orange and red embers as though completely at home.
The roar of the fire and the feminine cries mixed until it was more than Theo could take.
He fell to his knees, hitting the deck, covering his ears with his hands.
As quickly as it came, the fire vanished.
Theo was too afraid to move for a few seconds, until he removed his hands and realized it was silent.
The fire was gone, and the smoke had cleared from the deck of the ship.
Despite being a wooden vessel, Theo couldn't spot any obvious or charred damage to the boat.
But a naked woman was standing in the embers of the fire.
She was statuesque, built thick and curvy, with long, black hair that fell almost to her waist. It was tied back in a braid, and the ends of her strands glowed with sparks, the same sparks that danced in her eyes.
It gave her an entirely inhuman appearance.
She opened her mouth to speak, and only smoke and flames came out.
Theo managed to turn his head to look at Wyn and wasn't prepared for what he found there.
Wyn looked completely, entirely, besotted.