Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Sailing on rough seas for the first time wasn’t sitting well with Gisela at all.
The sunrise, yellows and oranges bleeding across the sky like watercolor, and the birds gliding above did nothing to calm her stomach.
It wasn’t from the ale last night. It was the relentless rocking of the ship that had her gut churning.
She’d managed a small breakfast, but a strong wave sent it back overboard.
She didn’t want to complain, but she wasn’t sure how she’d survive the rest of the journey.
“Shit, Gisela. Are you alright?” Marina asked, striding over to where Gisela leaned over the railing.
“Never better.”
Marina raised an eyebrow. “Are you seasick? Why didn’t you say something?” She closed her eyes, murmured to Ondine, and the waters smoothed. “There. Better?”
“With all due respect, Marina, why the hell didn’t you do that sooner?”
“Oh, the rough seas bring out the fire in you,” Marina laughed.
Gisela glared at her but was thankful for the Aquamancer all the same.
On the top deck, Thorne and Silas were deep in a sword training session.
Silas demonstrated a series of intricate techniques.
He guided Thorne through drills, their blades clashing rhythmically as steel sang through the air.
The red-gemmed hilt of Thorne’s sword reflected the light of the rising sun.
After a particularly demanding sequence, they paused and grinned at one another.
Silas pulled Thorne into a hearty bear hug, lifting him clean off the deck.
Gisela and Marina laughed from below, watching the bond between Thorne and Silas grow deeper.
“I think I may come back from all of this with a new brother,” Marina said.
“Then maybe I’ll be your sister one day,” Gisela said, only realizing the weight of her words as soon as they left her mouth.
Marina raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk forming. “Ah, so it’s that serious, huh?”
“No, I don’t know about that. I didn’t mean—”
Marina twirled her cutlass with a playful flourish. She turned and walked away and called over her shoulder, “Yes you did.”
Gisela sat at the bow, admiring the vast expanse of the open sea. The air was cool against her skin, nourishing the frost that flowed through her veins.
She sensed someone approaching from behind.
Larz.
He stopped at her side, keeping his gaze on the horizon. “Mind if I sit?” he asked.
Gisela shook her head, patting the spot next to her.
“Nothin’ like it, eh?” Larz said, bending his knees to sit down.
“I don’t have the words.”
It almost fooled her. The serenity of it, when the world was burning, stirred something shameful in her chest. How could she feel this peace when pain ravaged Mystralos? Allowing herself this moment, while her family and her village suffered . . . felt selfish.
“When Helena first brought me aboard,” Larz said, his voice pulling her from her thoughts, “I was grateful. Her loss has been devastatin’ to me—to all of us.”
“Why weren’t you afraid of her?”
Larz let out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed on the sea. “I never bought into the ‘Mystics are dangerous’ nonsense. Helena saved me from a bad place.” His eyes darkened. “No one ever cared for me the way she did. When Marina came back and wanted to take over, I didn’t hesitate.”
“Marina was born for this.”
Larz chuckled, stroking his beard. “Marina questioned us all thoroughly when she came back.” He shook his head. “Crazy bitch, but you gotta love her.”
Gisela raised her eyebrows and laughed. She’d only just met Marina and already knew mercy wasn’t her strong suit. A moment passed before Gisela spoke again. “Maybe someone found out Helena was a Mystic, and they didn’t know what she was actually doing.”
“Dunno. She always wore that stuff to cover her mark. She was cautious.”
Gisela let the cool air fill her lungs and let it out slowly. “Silas told us an herbalist taught her how to make it. Is that person still in Aquamere?”
Larz shook his head. “No. I never met ‘em. Figured they were executed since we’ve had the same herbalist for, I don’t know, twenty years now. Give or take a few.”
Gisela’s grip tightened on the railing. Another lead, gone.
“So,” Larz said, eyes trailing along her, “where’s yours?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing where her mark showed through the fading hylja.
Larz leaned close, curious, when a tiny flame nicked the side of his cheek. He flinched, pulling back to see Thorne standing a few paces away, arms crossed over his bare chest.
“Loosen up there, Thorne. Your arms might get stuck like that,” he said, standing and striding away. “Brooding buffoon.” Larz disappeared toward the stern.
Gisela turned to Thorne, who was watching her intently.
“I haven’t even seen it yet,” he said, sitting down where Larz had been. “The hylja faded?”
She gave him a look as he swept her hair away from her ear and leaned close.
His breath brushed her skin as he found the faint outline of a mark patterned like frost on glass. He nibbled her ear playfully, sending goosebumps trailing down her arms.
She laughed and swatted him away, unable to hide her smile. “Now show me yours,” she said, her eyes bright.
Thorne bit his lip, a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh, you’ll see it soon,” he promised with a wink.
Gisela turned back toward the sea. She leaned her head on Thorne’s shoulder and the steady sound of waves filled the silence between them.
“I saw you and Silas training earlier.”
“Yeah, he has a lot of experience. He’s a good teacher. And an even better man.”
“I’m happy you have him,” Gisela said, tilting her head to study him.
A shadow of pain passed through his eyes.
She reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “I’m proud of how you handled your father back in Rockridge. I never told you that. Everything happened so fast.”
“You don’t have to—” Thorne started, but the sharp sound of raised voices cut him off.
They turned toward the deck. A cluster of crew members had gathered, shouting over a split crate, shoving each other as supplies spilled across the deck.
Thorne exhaled. “I’ll handle it.” He pressed a brief kiss to her temple before standing.
Gisela huffed and leaned on the railing. With a quiet sigh, she conjured small snowballs in her hands and cast them to the deep sea below, watching them vanish with soft, soundless splashes.
As dusk settled, a light breeze tugged at Gisela’s hair, turning it into loose, wavy tendrils that swayed in the salty air. The Mystics and sailors gathered on the deck, sitting on crates and barrels while Marina and Ondine’s magic kept the waters calm.
Laughter rolled across the ship.
Gisela glanced at Thorne beside her as he watched the crew with a grin.
Ronan absently polished the hilt of his sword. His shaggy brown hair hung over his eyes, though his gaze kept flicking to Marina, only to slip away whenever she looked at him.
“You know,” Ronan said at last, “when I was a boy, I thought I could talk to the ocean. My grandmother always said I had saltwater in my veins.”
“Oh yeah? Did it ever respond?” Marina teased.
Ronan met her gaze. “It sang of freedom, danger . . . and sometimes, secrets.”
Eamon, rolling lazily on his crate, added with a sly grin, “Sounds like my Liana back home. The freedom and danger part, not the secrets. That woman doesn’t know how to keep a thought to herself.”
“Ain’t that right,” Larz said.
“Fiercest woman in Aquamere. Met her at the fish market, and before I knew it, she had me in a headlock for taking the last cod. Married her a month later.” Eamon’s eyes gleamed as he continued.
“And our little girl, Isla. She’s got her mother’s temper.
The other day, she tried to swing at some poor kid for sittin’ in her spot near the fountains.
” He shook his head with a fond smile. “Silas knows a thing or two about fierce women, don’t you? ”
Silas’s smile was small but sincere. “I’d say so. Daughters inherit that from their mothers.”
Marina glanced at her father, a faint smile on her lips, but her eyes betrayed a deeper pain.
“My girls didn’t want me to leave,” Eamon said.
Ronan nodded. “We’ll be back soon. Then you can go back to gettin’ handled by your woman.”
“Aye,” Eamon chuckled, glancing at the horizon. “If the gods are so kind.”
Larz leaned forward, raising a thick red brow as he looked at Ronan. “When are you getting yourself a wife?”
Ronan hesitated. “It’s not in the cards for me right now. My grandmother’s sick. I’m all she’s got.”
Larz gave a thoughtful nod. “Honorable, lad, but even a man like you needs a woman to share his burdens.”
Ronan’s eyes flicked away from Marina. “It’s complicated.”
Larz tilted his head, sensing there was more. “Complicated, eh? What, she’s spoken for?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
Gisela leaned into Thorne’s side, his arm resting protectively around her.
“So, Thorne,” Eamon drawled. “I reckon we’ll be seeing a wedding soon, eh?”
The group chuckled lightly, but Gisela’s face warmed at the unexpected question.
Before she could speak, Thorne pulled her flush against him. His gaze, intense and steady, locked onto hers, and the teasing mood among them dimmed.
“When the time’s right, Eamon,” he said, his fingers brushing against Gisela’s cheek. “I’ll marry her the second she says the word.”
She bit her lip, fighting the smile tugging at her mouth.
The group fell quiet for a beat.
Eamon gave a low whistle. “Well, seems I hit the mark. Didn’t mean to turn the deck into a chapel.”
Thorne’s lips curved, though his eyes were set on Gisela. “No harm done, Eamon.”