Chapter 42
CHAPTER
Vaasa was far too restless; her body ached, and her lungs felt tight, her mind reeled like a spool of ribbon come undone.
Hours passed, no sign of another ambush or that anyone had managed to chase them into the Gap.
It was cramped in the hull of the ship, hammocks strung on either side of their small quarters, a round table in the center.
Melisina was with Amalie, who still hadn’t woken. Koen slept.
Reid sat at the table in their tight quarters, refusing to rest unless Vaasa did.
Her schedule had become one of a ghost—night was the only time she’d been free for a long while, and she couldn’t force her body to rest.
Zetyr. He had taken over Ozik’s consciousness in the end, had pushed Ozik somewhere in the back of his own mind.
And she had channeled that deity’s magic.
Had been able to extend the power past herself and through the other witches as they entered the Loursevain Gap.
The oil still coated her insides. Her mother’s necklace now sat in her pocket, tucked tightly into a pair of warm winter leathers that Sachia had given to her.
A hand brushed her shoulder. Reid’s. She turned to where he stood behind her, and he gestured with his head for her to follow him.
They took the ladder back up to the main deck, and early morning sunlight bathed the wood.
He walked to the bow where a set of stairs led to a small upper deck above the captain’s quarters, much like Vaasa had sat upon when he’d first brought her back to Mireh.
There were maybe ten paces of space around them, but it was enough to approach the railing of the ship and look out into the widening river.
Their speed was incredible. Vaasa knew that on any other ship, the journey would have been untenable.
It was by Sachia’s magic alone that a ship this size was able to move with such speed and agility.
The iron hinges she had crafted to propel the oars allowed it to switch directions in mere seconds, and there were mechanisms underneath the ship that could be lifted by Sachia’s will, allowing it to coast through the shallow meanders that beached other people’s vessels.
The witch must be utterly exhausted, though perhaps this schedule was one she was used to.
Vaasa had a feeling that Sachia wouldn’t truly rest for days to come.
Maybe years. Maybe never.
Up here, Vaasa felt the motions of the boat more distinctly.
She didn’t mind. She leaned against the iron railing, letting the cold air bite at her cheeks.
In this leather armor, she was comfortably warm.
Golden light flickered along Reid’s carved jawline and threw shadows against the railing he leaned back upon.
She lost her breath for a moment. Was she really here? Had she actually done it?
For one terrifying second, she thought her mind or Ozik might have played a trick on her. An illusion or some other form of torture. She breathed in and out, fighting against the thought. Her hand curled around the railing. Magic darted over and under the metal.
Vaasa wasn’t certain the Asteryan navy would continue to come after her at all.
Especially as she looked upon the jagged cut of canyons that jutted out on either side of the Loursevain Gap, snow piling atop the ledges at higher elevations.
She could see up the side of the mountains, at the marbling of black and brown that cut through the rock and dove into the river like the roots of some ancient tree.
Treacherous and steep, the cliffside mirrored the ones surrounding the fortress in Mekes.
With each sharp bend the water took, Vaasa felt more assured that a full naval force could never navigate this.
At most, it would be mercenaries who chased them, and they likely couldn’t be rallied in time to cut off The Red Corsair before it reached the top of the river.
So long as they made it through the gap alive, they might stand a chance at reaching Innisjour.
Adrenaline bled out of her, replaced by a stiff tiredness that threatened to pull her under. Reid peered at her out of the side of his eye. “Something happened between you two before you left, didn’t it?”
Vaasa closed her eyes. There were a thousand things she had to tell Reid, but she was afraid words would fail her.
She knew she owed him an explanation. “I betrayed him in the end,” she said, though she knew it was more of a consolation prize.
“Locked him in the servants’ tunnel of the Sanctum and left him there to burn. ”
“Oh,” he muttered. It wasn’t of disbelief, or accusation, or anything other than acceptance. Vaasa looked down at her hands, at the magic she had no interest in stifling. Not after everything she had just lived through. No. The magic would breathe before it was taken from her again.
She had to breathe before everything was taken from her again.
“Can we rest now?” she whispered.
Perhaps it was selfish to even ask such a thing, but when a softness took Reid’s mouth and eased the worry lines of his forehead, she thought it was okay to live in ignorance, at least for a few hours. He looked at her so tenderly then, perhaps in a way she didn’t deserve. “Yes,” he said.
She followed him back into their group’s sleeping quarters, her muscles growing heavier and heavier with each step. Reid climbed into a hammock, and despite the movement of it, she slipped into it with him. His arms wrapped around her, his body pressed to hers, and she breathed. Just breathed.
Vaasa closed her eyes.
And then there was a small tug somewhere in her core, a strange summoning down the line of her connection to Ozik.
On instinct, Vaasa reached for those cords, the ones still very much tangled in her body.
Their bargain wasn’t broken, though seemingly more direct, as if she now knew each curve and twist of the string. A pathway she could easily navigate.
There you are, Ozik’s voice drifted through her mind. Distant and quieter, but still there.
Vaasa went rigid. Reid shifted next to her, but he didn’t speak. He only trailed his fingertips up and down her arm in an effort to calm her, ignorant of the advisor’s voice inside her mind.
Is it really you? she asked Ozik.
For now.
Then he went quiet. Vaasa squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the shape of the necklace in her pocket. Ozik had given her everything he’d promised—they’d escaped, and Asterya would likely crumble into itself before it ever had the chance of fighting Icruria.
And now, she was supposed to reunite the pieces of the anchor.
To reseal Zetyr in his tomb. A second bargain now lived between them—her freedom for her agreement to do the very thing her mother couldn’t.
To unite the pieces of the anchor and vanquish Zetyr once and for all, killing Ozik in the process.
The thing her mother had said was not worth the price.
Vaasa didn’t believe that Vena Kozár had left her children in Zetyr’s path simply because she’d loved Ozik too much to kill him.
Her mother had been just as steadfast as her father in this way; between love and power, they would both choose power.
Vaasa was certain of it. Which meant there was another price, another reason her mother had not wanted to unite the anchor.
Something Ozik hadn’t told her, because he knew it would stop Vaasa, too.
So, Vaasa had left Ozik’s ring on that bridge.
Without it, she could never unite the pieces. She could leave Ozik to be ravaged, leave the Asteryan nobles to contend with a god none of them believed was real. Whatever havoc Zetyr wreaked, it could only serve to weaken Asterya.
Vaasa had no wish to know what that price of reuniting the anchors was.
The way to survive a broken bargain now lived in her pocket, after all.
She would tell Reid to bring them back to Mireh, to take advantage of the ruined empire Vaasa had left in her wake.
Once they won the war, she would decide what to do with Ozik. With Zetyr.
She shifted in Reid’s arms, panic building in her throat.
For a while, she tried to focus on the rise and fall of her own chest. But then she felt Ozik again, stronger now.
Something shook on the other side of her bond with Ozik.
Magic pulsed around her, within her. It flooded down the cords that bound her to him, until his voice was inescapable, begging to be heard.
It was only screams, as if Ozik was locked behind a wall.
Ozik repeated something over and over, though Vaasa had the strange sensation that he wasn’t speaking to her. She listened closely, distinguishing the words the best she could, until they finally rang clear.
Remember our bargain.
And then he went silent, his presence completely gone, like a candle extinguished by the wind.