Chapter 7 #2
She highly doubted Dominic would kill her. If he did, he’d lose her power and knowledge. But just to be sure, she needed to hear him say it, and she needed to make sure he wouldn’t leave her for dead anywhere during their search for the relics.
His stare was cold, harsh. “Why?”
“To make things more interesting, more fair. If one of us kills the other, then there’s no point to it, same as if we let each other die. Death isn’t the way to win.”
Dominic stood still for a moment, weighing his options. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally answered. “Fine,” he said, grudgingly sticking out his bloody hand to her own.
She grasped his hand, shaking it firmly. A strange tingle spread through her palm as their magic collided, immediately healing their hands, leaving only a faint scar behind.
She didn’t know the consequences for breaking a blood oath, but she had no intention of finding out. She would stay true to her word, protecting him until one of them won. Once that time came, there was no stopping the winner from destroying the other.
Footsteps thudded against the deck, drawing near. Adara muttered a curse under her breath, wishing Dominic would give her one moment of peace as she attempted to sift through the rush of events that had happened since she left the Valen Wind.
“Adara, right?” She let out a sigh of relief at the unfamiliar voice, the friendly tone a stark contrast to Dominic’s malice.
Ocean eyes and a soft smile met her. He ran his fingers through his brown hair, disheveled by the strong gale.
Dominic’s magic constantly filled the sails with wind to make their journey quicker. He extended a hand toward her. “I’m—”
“Asher,” Adara finished for him.
His warm smile widened, revealing dimples in his cheeks. “Asher Terence.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He drummed his fingers along the railing, silver glinting around his left ring finger.
He has a soulmate. Adara wondered if it was one of the Andreilians or if he’d left his lover behind for the prize of Andreilia’s enchanted water.
Or perhaps Asher’s eternal youth had caused him to outlive his soulmate.
Considering he’d only just met her, she refrained from asking more.
“For what?” Asher replied.
“For telling Tyson to shove off when you all found me. For stopping the duel.”
Asher glanced out to the sea, side-eyeing her with a knowing smile. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
They both turned at the sound of footsteps loudly approaching.
A boy—who looked the same age as Asher—with short, curly blond hair, bounded toward them, blue eyes alight.
“Can you believe it?” he asked excitedly, tossing an arm around Asher’s shoulders.
“The infamous Andreilians, back at it again, sailing across the Plagued Sea.” He waved his palm in front of them in a flourishing manner.
“Except they’re all together this time, not one by one coming for the enchanted water.
And with a new face”—he glanced toward Adara—“courageous enough to challenge the King of Keys at his own game. All while they attempt to forge the mythical Realm Fracturer. Will they make it out alive from this perilous journey, or will their luck finally run out?” he rambled on, as if narrating an epic adventure story.
Asher laughed and amicably shoved him. “Would you stop? You know, we all hate this cursed sea. We don’t need you reminding us that we could die in an instant . . . or scaring Adara away.”
Adara scoffed. “Oh, please. I sailed across the Plagued Sea, same as you. One more time isn’t going to scare me away.” She’d proven herself as they had, even more so by bargaining with the notorious Dominic Nite. They would soon learn not to underestimate her.
“Oh, but the hideous beasts lurking beneath the surface will,” the blond said ominously, still grinning like they were all some sort of heroes in a fairytale.
Asher smacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Shut up,” he rebuked jokingly. “If anything, your obnoxious voice will draw their attention. We’ll have to make you walk the plank as bait to satisfy them.”
The blond placed a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “You would dare betray your best friend?”
“If you put us at risk, yes,” Adara chimed in, ignoring the pang of guilt in her throbbing heart.
His head whipped toward her as if suddenly remembering her presence. “Oh! Where are my manners? Name’s Caleb Moyer! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Adara,” he said, grasping her hand and bowing. His lips brushed over her gloved knuckles.
Adara quickly pulled her hand away, tucking it within the folds of her cloak. Caleb rose to full height, a lopsided grin on his face. If he took offense to her guarded behavior, there was no sign of it.
“Better quit your useless flirting,” Asher advised with a gesture toward the front of the ship where an Andreilian with olive skin stood, short wavy black hair swaying in the wind, attention turned toward the three of them.
Adara guessed he was about twenty-one years old, but the dark stubble on his jaw made him appear older. “You’re going to make Tobias jealous.”
Caleb whirled around, directing his gaze toward the forecastle deck. He shot Tobias a radiant grin and an enthusiastic wave, who returned the gesture. “He knows I’m only his.” Then turned back to Adara. “Anyway, welcome aboard The Lykren.”
“The Lykren?” Adara echoed, a frown of disapproval tugging at her features. “Why name your ship after such wretched beasts?”
“Well, Dominic hasn’t officially named the ship, but that’s what I like to call her.” Caleb affectionately patted the hull. “Because they’re formidable—invincible—and so are we.” His eyes darted to the tattoo on her chest. “A Searling, huh?”
Adara huffed, tired of everyone using that term, though she couldn’t blame them.
With Blemythia gone, Flamecarriers were unheard of.
But it still felt like an insult, a way of degrading her power.
She could do so much more than a Searling, who merely controlled fire.
Adara was fire. It was in her blood, scorching and fierce, demanding to be let out to burn and burn until there was nothing left.
It came from deep within her, a power born from the bloodline of the Goddess of Fire and Courage she had been named after.
She would not let anyone dishonor that name by calling her anything less than what she was.
“Flamecarrier,” Adara seethed.
Caleb waved a dismissive hand. “Sounds like the same thing.”
Adara balled the collar of his tunic in her fist. The joy drained from his eyes, mouth hanging agape. She raised her other hand and snapped in his face, fire sparking at her fingertips. “I summon from nothing.”
He tried to blow out the fire—a futile attempt as it only burned brighter.
“I was born with fire in my veins. I did not receive it from any object or event like your pathetic King of Keys.” She held the flames closer to his face.
Caleb pulled back, sweat beading on his brow, but Adara held him firmly. Red flushed his cheeks.
“I could set this whole ship ablaze right now if I wanted.” A Searling’s power would seem pitiful in her presence. “Do you still think Flamecarriers are the same?” she asked.
Caleb’s throat bobbed as he swallowed down the fear choking him. He frantically shook his head, hair almost singeing on the embers.
Asher gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it,” he said calmly, like trying to pacify an enraged animal.
The flames snuffed out, and Adara released Caleb. He staggered back, brushing out the wrinkles of his navy tunic.
Adara gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “Lesson learned then.”
Surprisingly, Caleb grinned back. “I like you,” he said lightly, all previous traces of terror replaced with content. He glanced at Asher. “Maybe Dominic has finally met his match.”
Adara’s heart swelled with pride.