Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Faolan
In the thirteen years I’ve sailed the Crescent—evading sea monsters and treacherous plots by rival crews—nothing has ever been harder than leaving Saoirse in those woods.
Nothing except watching her sacrifice herself to conjure them in the first place.
I crash through the brush and swipe an arm over my face as the others climb into the currach.
“All right there, Captain?”
“Damn spiderwebs.” Definitely not tears. “How’s our guest?”
“Comfortable.” Nessa gives Aidan’s shoulders a firm shake. He glares in response—would likely swear, too, were it not for the gag tied round his mouth.
“Grand so.” My boots hit the water as I give the lacquered wood a firm shove, jostling the young king from his place nestled at the ribbed bottom of the wee boat. “Has Kiara’s currach taken off yet?”
“Right as we reached the shore.” Tavin hops into the vessel, but Lorcan stays one foot out, eyes trained on the dim edge of the forest. It takes the clouds shifting again to see what he’s staring at: Brona, hovering at the wooded edge, a scowl slashed across her face.
“Feck’s sake.” I stop pushing. “Brona, it’s time to go.”
“Aye. So where’s your wife?”
My hands slip, leaving the currach to rock in the shallows.
“Saoirse’s not coming.”
Every single one of the wolves loses their footing at that, Tavin dropping an oar, which Lorcan fails to catch. Even Nessa’s stopped her teasing to gawk at me.
I barely hold back a groan. “It was her choice. She told me so after—”
“You’re fecking joking.”
“No, Brona, for once I’m not.” The words slice through my teeth, sharp enough to draw blood.
In all seven tuatha, there’s not a damn person who can stick the knife in better than my navigator.
“Saoirse’s tethered to the island by her magic, so it was already going to be a challenge.
Pair that with Maccus’s claims and— Stars above, don’t look at me like that.
She chose to stay behind. To comply with him so she can find out what Maccus is up to, and we’re going to give her that chance. ”
Brona snorts loud enough to wake every damn creature on the island.
My grip tightens, wood and rope creaking under my touch. “Look, I don’t like it either. But I trust her—”
“Well, isn’t that nice!” Brona tosses her head. “You can trust her all the way to her grave.”
“Brona.”
“Faolan.” She spits my name back in a perfect imitation. “Saoirse has no battle skills. No proper guards—bleeding skies, she could barely look any of us in the eye until summer solstice! And you expect us to leave her here alone?”
“We’re not leaving her alone.” I let go of the currach to throw a hand toward the island. “There are two hundred people camped here, last I counted, not to mention Aisling, Callen, Etain—”
“An old woman against a monster? Aye, that will go over well.”
My teeth ache from biting down, close to cracking through. I snatch up the oar Tavin dropped, nails biting into the wood. “Maccus won’t risk attacking Saoirse again. She’s sure of it.”
“Did she tell you that before or after agreeing to offer him her blood?”
“She told me that after she sent me away!”
I shove the oar into the currach, jarring my arm in the process, then grab hold of the curved side as water sloshes over the edge of my boots.
Brona, for once, offers no quick retort, and it takes an act of the gods to turn and face what’s left of my crew—the pity on their faces nearly enough to do me in.
“Listen.” Keeping one hand on the boat, I hold up the other to show off my soul-scarred palm.
“The magic’s changing. Waking up something none of us have ever seen before.
Maccus already has one god’s relic—just imagine if he got the rest. Saoirse’s going to distract him and try to get an understanding of what will happen when her magic and the gods’ collide, but it’ll be pointless unless we hunt down the other relics.
Starting with the one that bastard apothecary ran off with. ”
I look them in the eyes: Nessa, Tavin, Lorcan, Brona.
Brona’s narrow in response.
“We’re going to come back for her. Soon, with the winds’ favor. But right now, I need you all in line.”
The others nod their heads. Brona steps back.
“Get in the—”
“Lorcan?” Keeping her eyes on me, she unstraps the watertight leather tube from her shoulders and heaves it into his chest. “Keep the maps safe.”
“What?” I’ve never seen my bosun’s hands fumble, but they slip as he catches the tube. “You’re staying?”
“Someone’s got to keep her in one piece.”
“Then I should—”
“No.” Brona starts toward him, then shakes her head and backs up a pace closer to the woods. “I’ve got the Wolf Tamer. You lot handle the Wolf.”
I blink. “No—dammit, Brona! How are we meant to sail the Crescent without a navigator?”
“You can follow the stars well enough on your own—even better with my map. Just avoid sailing near rocks, Unbound Earth, or the Teeth and you’ll be grand.”
“What about our plan?!”
“You’ll handle it, just like you said.” Leaves are already covering half her frame when she glances at Lorcan one more time, regret cracking her expression. “Come back in one piece, all right?”
His jaw unhinges as he darts forward—stops himself, water lapping up his calves. “I will.”
By the time he’s said it, she’s gone.
“Feck.”
Nessa clears her throat as Lorcan slowly steps inside the currach, hooking the tube over his shoulder, jaw tight. I swear again, harder, and shove the boat out to deeper waters before leaping in.
It’s like the air itself has died around us.
No matter how much wind blows through or how hard Tavin and I heave on the oars, every breath sticks and stays like mud.
As we drift past the outer ring of black columns, farther than I’ve managed to swim or sail since we arrived, moonlight spills back across the island, and for a second, I think I see her.
Saoirse, weaving through the mossy woodland.
Or maybe it’s just the smoke.
By the time we reach the ship, it doesn’t matter: my heart’s a bloody ruin and I’m absolutely fecked in the head.
Kiara’s crew drops ropes at my whistle, which we secure without a word to either end of the currach as Nessa gives the signal to haul the wee boat up.
I keep my gaze on the shoreline until mist whittles it down to nothing.
Mist, and the bloody spiderwebs still caught in my eye.
Biting back another foul mouthful of my own inept frustration, I wipe the moisture away and tug the old leather glove from my pocket.
Tough near the knuckles but otherwise oiled smooth, the glove is easily tugged over the soul-bargain mark, and I drag the laces tighter until the opalescent sheen is fully hidden.
Like our time on this island never happened at all.
“Faolan?”
Tavin taps my shoulder, and I round them back. Let the bones crackle as I pull on my wolfskin, covering up the bleeding heart below.
“Captain, now.” I tip him a wink, then stand, catching one of the ropes binding Aidan. “At least while we’re around Kiara’s pitiful excuse for a crew.”
“Aye, Captain.” Tavin nods to the thick railing of the ship. “Care to give them a surprise?”
My cheeks hurt from the forced smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Tavin crouches in the currach’s hull and forms a basket with his hands. One step later and I’m flying—leaping really—up over the rail to land squarely on deck.
It’s a damn delight to see them all jump.
“Welcome, friends, to your next adventure!” I clap a stringy lad on the back—striker from Painted Claw by the look of his aquatic tattoos, and the wee trident strapped to his leg. “We hope you’ll be comfortable sailing under the Wolf, but if you’ve any problems just give us a howl.”
Lorcan’s laugh spills over like honey as they draw the currach the rest of the way up, Nessa hauling the young king into her arms once more.
I stride across the deck, taking the sight in…the whole bland expanse of it. Plain white sails, heavy wood railings without much artistry to their carving, and a deck slatted with pale wood worn deep enough that it’s a shock we don’t all fall through.
Gods above, would it have killed Kiara to stain it at the very least?
“Faolan.”
Speak of the nightmare, and she will appear.
I hook an arm through a rope and let it carry me round to face the lantern-bathed crew—and my fuming cousin. “Really, you lot, it’s quite simple.”
“Faolan, a word.”
It’s tragic, really, how her face goes beet red when she’s mad.
I let my biggest smile unfurl. “Follow the letter of our law, don’t be a pain in the arse, and you won’t have to keep company with bilge rats. Are we clear?”
A chorus of Aye, Cap’ns echoes across the deck, filling me up with golden fire, as though I’ve swallowed an entire crate of whiskey.
“Wolf.” Kiara’s voice cuts through the dream. “Now.”
My boots strike the deck with a wet slap as I walk toward Kiara, who’s aging by the second. If she doesn’t stop glowering, those wrinkles won’t have a chance of fading.
“Nice to see you again, Kiar—”
“What in the shade’s realm is this?” She thrusts a hand toward Aidan, whose crown’s fallen lopsided across his brow where Nessa set it after their climb.
He’s got a peaky look to him, face pale and a touch green—probably from the way he had to be slung awkwardly over her shoulder just to get him on deck.
“A surprise.”
“Untie him.” Kiara shoves a hand through her hair. “Of all the asinine things you’ve ever done—”
“Be fair, Kiara, this one’s actually thought out—”
“Kidnapping a rí is damn near unforgivable. What were you thinking?”
If I didn’t know better, that just might be worry coloring her voice and pinching her eyes.
Scratchy wool brushes my ears as I shrug, courtesy of the plain brown coat Nessa pilfered from among Bridled Stag’s things.
Already I miss the weight of the green—but I couldn’t stomach putting the torn, bloodstained, patchy thing back on.
Just one more thing I can never forgive Kiara for taking from me when she let my ship burn. “It was Saoirse’s idea.”
“Saoirse’s…” Kiara blinks. Glances at Aidan. “Stars above, cut him free.”
“Pleasure.” I ease the knife from my belt and reach for him, chuffing when he pulls away. “Begging your pardon, Highness, but I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of hauling you up here just to kill you.”
One sharp flick and the gag falls free.
I barely leap back in time to avoid the vomit.
“Winds o’ fury. I would’ve preferred a curse.”
“So would I,” Aidan spits out, along with a string of filth. “Now, untie me and let me go.”
“Not quite yet, I’m afraid.” I crook my head toward Kiara, turning over my knife. “Satisfied?”
“You’ve not even scratched the surface. Godsdammit, Faolan.” Kiara starts forward, wrinkles her nose, then snaps her fingers at the same striker I spoke to before. “Clean His Majesty up, would you? And you three, don’t put away that currach!”
“Strap it down tight, and weigh anchor! We’re about to set sail.”
Our commands overlap, leaving her crew at a standstill even as my three wolves keep to their tasks. I’ve never seen Kiara look angrier.
Pure joy settles in my gut.
I step closer. Lower my voice. “You want your seat of power, cousin? An answer to Maccus’s crime?”
Her eyes flick back and forth to mine. “I want to make a better world.”
“Then terms have changed.”
“You don’t get to—”
“Are you the pirate or the politician?” I let my gaze drop over the ruby ring on her finger. The fine gold net and red silk of her shirt. “You chose your role thirteen years ago, Kiara. Allow me to reclaim mine.”
Her jaw locks up, teeth grinding together at the back. “Wasn’t much of a choice, was it?”
“Life and death rarely are.”
She sighs. Glances at Aidan, who watches us with a gaunt expression, most of his anger gone. “What do you intend to do with him?”
“Track Dermot’s old apothecary.”
Both their heads whip up.
“I told you already, he’s gone!”
“What about Ashen Flame?” Kiara moves in. “You’re supposed to come with me to find Maira’s relic. Command a search of the Spring of Leigheas to confirm what Maccus said.”
“Aye, I’ll be getting to that.”
“Faolan.” Her steps falter as the ship creaks into motion, but only just. Kiara’s nearly as used to the sea as I am, her stance as wide as a bull’s. “Autumn is here. Fires will start breaking out in a matter of weeks as the grasslands and Bruidin trees dry out.”
“Then we’d better move fast.” I spread my hands wide.
“You’ve placed damn near every egg you have into the basket of Saoirse and the Isle of Lost Souls, and right now, Kiara, a starving fox is on the loose.
” My eyes flick to Aidan, crumpled over in his ropes.
“A fox who ran off into the night with a handful of family heirlooms.”
I see the second logic strikes her, working down her throat like she’s bitten off too much food.
Good. She can choke on her own noble intentions.
“It’s settled then. Where’s the former captain?”
Kiara straightens her collar. “Dismissed. I set her in charge of the other ship.”
“And the crew? Have they been vetted?”
The look she casts me is sharp enough to sever a limb. “What do you think?”
“That you’re a shite judge of character who likes to believe the best of people.”
“I put you in charge, remember?”
I flash her a smile. “Exactly.” She rolls her eyes as I turn my back. “Listen here, you lot! You’ll take second orders from my quartermaster, Tavin, third from Nessa. Anything needs repairing, call on Lorcan. Are we clear?”
“Aye, Captain!”
“Now, loose the sails and hoist the mizzen!”
They scatter as Kiara moves to the railing, looking back to shore. Aidan watches me coming, the striker still wiping up vomit at his feet.
“Apologies for the rough transport. I—hang on.” I crouch, expecting to have to cut my way through the bonds, but it takes barely any effort at all to loosen the knot. “Nessa, that was shite work on the ropes!”
“Hardly, Captain.” She flicks her hair free of her eyes, smile toothy and wide. “I wanted to see if he had any surprises up his sleeve.”
“Clever girl.” I ease the last of them free of his arms and rock back sharpish when Aidan shoots to his feet. “Easy, now.”
“Take me back.” His eyes have gone wide, the whites blown out against the dark night. “Take me back, now!”
“If you want to go back so bad, swim for it.”
Saoirse’s brother falls silent, visibly paling even in the dark.
I almost hate myself for being right.
“Thought so.”
With a nod, I retreat toward the main cabin, where the captain’s quarters should be—a room that would likely go to Kiara or Aidan in anyone else’s hands.
“Nessa, find space for yourself and the others, and a cabin for our royal guests. Lorcan, if you would take stock of any damage, I’d appreciate it before the next storm. And, Tavin?”
My heel slides across splintered wood as I take them all in.
“Find me someone who can navigate.”