I wasn’t going to lose here.
I wasn’t going to fail them.
I wasn’t going to leave them with her.
Even if I had to go down with her.
I swung my leg up, throwing every drop of aching, fleeting strength into it, and connected with Marassa’s chest. She swayed. Silken shoes slid on the stone.
Air rushed past us both, a flurry that cut across my vision and blinded me. Red, gray, black, white, blue—a swirling storm.
Something snatched at the back of my shirt, the collar cutting into my neck as my weight was flung against it.
Marassa’s hand vanished with a shocking, stinging pain.
A sickening, echoing tear and crack from below.
I clung to the edge of the stone with everything I had, panting, sprawled on my stomach halfway over the ledge. I was alive. I hadn’t fallen with her. Below Marassa lay motionless, one of the wooden stakes pierced through her chest, blood spreading through her gown. The guards paused in horror.
My mind blanked. I scrambled from the edge, one hand clinging to the warm, solid figure beside me and the other pressed to my throat. Blood met my fingers, and I probed the scratches—five long, thin wounds left by Marassa’s fingernails—and found them wet and tender but not as deep as I’d half expected. I could breathe; I gulped air down desperately, eyes fixed on the drop. “Go, go, go,” Aven hissed beside me, hauling me to my trembling feet. “Hania, now.”
I tore my gaze to him. Shock and terror were written across his features. Past him, guards surrounded Raeth, holding him back as he watched me with a look as if he was ready to kill everybody here with a word. Namak stepped to the ledge, staring down for a long, contemplative moment.
Aven pulled me back another step, tensed, one arm fixed around me.
“Well?” the merrow Lord demanded of the guards below. “Your Queen gave an order.”
Raeth’s face paled. I couldn’t speak. Aven met Namak’s cold eyes. “Any harm that comes to my people will be repaid,” he said, voice a threat. The guards scrambled to pass on the change of orders from their King-to-be.
“All of them,” I managed, my grip tightening on his arm. “Aven, they’re going to kill the sirens—”
I broke off when he looked at me. There was no warmth in his eyes, and I clung to the belief that it was shock. That he was horrified and afraid and trying to catch up on the events. But they didn’t clear. He watched me, and then his lips twitched like he thought about laughing.
“Hania,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Hania, Hania. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
I didn’t answer. I stared up at him. He shifted closer, and I shuffled back to keep a distance between us, the first time I’d thought to do so since we’d left the old village. There was nothing safe and familiar in the way he moved, the way he watched me. It was all predator—angry, vicious predator.
The ledge the selkies had used, dropping to the water, was a step too close for comfort.
“I shouldn’t have let this go on so long,” he mused, tilting his head as he brushed the backs of his fingers along my cheek. I flinched but didn’t move, even though part of me wanted to slap his hand away. It was Aven. Not his words, but his face, his touch. This was wrong, something was wrong. “I’ll admit it was my mistake. You were so fun to play with. So strong and so trusting. Marassa did warn me. I didn’t think you’d survive the Trials—and I certainly didn’t think you’d do that. I should know better than to underestimate you.”
I sucked in a thin breath. My voice came as a squeak. “Aven?”
“Don’t worry, we both know I’m not like Marassa. She never could keep from taking things personally. But it’s just business, you know. You’re a threat to my world, love.”
My hands shook and I balled them into fists as I searched his face. None of that silent pleading to trust him, to play along.
Behind him, I saw Raeth raise his head, eyes finding me. He held them as he spoke, though the words weren’t directed at me. “Go join your Queen.” It was a simple order, ringing of cold, merciless magic, and the four selkie guards surrounding him dropped their weapons and walked as one to the ledge.
I didn’t watch them jump. I couldn’t. I flinched at the chorus of crashing bodies.
It wasn’t too long of a fall to kill for certain. Perhaps if one landed the right way they would get up and keep going. But it was a danger, long enough to break bone, to keep them from coming to stop him a second time. And without a hint of remorse in his expression, Raeth rose to his feet and stalked toward Aven and I.
“You put another finger on her and—”
Aven cut him off with a look. “I wonder, Raeth, am I or your voice faster?”
I didn’t know the answer to that, and from the way Raeth kept silent, looking between Aven and I, he didn’t either. I looked at Aven, one last time. I had to know. I had to be sure this was real, not another trick. But even for all his playing parts, he wouldn’t do this.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a hoarse whisper. “This isn’t you, Aven. I know you, I—” My voice cut out at the lack of emotion in his face. Not even a flicker.
His lips were on mine before I knew what was happening, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that welled. They slipped out. I wanted that kiss to mean something, like the others had—or I’d thought they had—but I felt nothing in it. Nothing but my heart shattering on the stone and the world dropping away around me. Not in the way that made me blissfully breathless and dizzy like he knew how to do—no, the world vanished and I was spinning, with no hope of ever finding solid ground.
My head was lost, all thought frantic and silent, when he broke the kiss and whispered, so close his breath fanned across my lips, “I’m ending this before you ruin my home.”
His arm around my waist vanished.
My fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. My head cleared with a single look at Raeth, held in place and fuming.
Know what you want, breathe, concentrate.
I knew exactly what I wanted. I let myself draw a deep breath as I looked at Aven, and I forced my voice to stay strong. Not to shake and crumple like it wanted to. “Not if I ruin it first,” I said.
I threw myself backwards.
I thought Raeth might have shouted my name, but his voice was ripped away by the wind roaring in my ears. I hit the water like hitting solid steel.
It was a shorter fall than the one to the graveyard, and the lake was deep. Though no sudden lance of pain fired through me to tell me I was injured, the water was shocking. For the first moment I couldn’t move, distantly feeling it rush past, and then my mind snapped back into motion and I thrashed, trying to get my bearings.
Up. I needed air first. I gasped when I found the surface, but I didn’t let myself linger. Didn’t let myself look up. I dove again, down, down through the familiar, murky water, pushing for the far shore.
This was where the selkie had dragged me under, earning the stitched wounds on my ankle.
This was where I’d stabbed another selkie through the eye.
This was where—
Where I’d almost drowned. Where Aven had saved me.
I paused, floating and staring. Did I dare?
What were the chances they’d retrieved the bodies? I wasn’t sure. I’d left that selkie with a knife through the roof of their mouth, and I needed a weapon. I wasn’t going to help anybody without one. Windsbane—even if everything in me threatened to collapse and burn to ashes at the thought of Aven right now…
The selkies I’d fought with it had died. Died.
I didn’t know who might be dying today.
I didn’t have time to think. I redirected downwards, racing for the sandy bottom. Nothing but weeds and muck, and half my hope died with every fruitless stir of sand and dirt. Then a dark, looming shape came into view. A few little fish scattered at my approach, and I tried not to see the cloudy eyes and gaping mouth. I didn’t let myself think about the f
act that this was a dead body; I shoved one hand into its mouth, ignoring the slick, swollen feeling of its skin, and searched blindly. My fingers brushed along something far too smooth to be natural and I yanked. Nothing. Again, harder, and something tore and slipped. I shoved against the selkie’s body to propel myself backwards and stared down at the knife in my hand. Two days underwater hadn’t dulled its elegant, bloody shine. I gripped it tight as I continued.
By the time I hauled myself out of the water there was chaos. Rider-less asketis bolted past the lake, toward the Eyes, frantic and wild-eyed. Screams were ringing louder than before from the graveyard, a chorus of sounds I couldn’t decipher. More guards were here, like they’d scattered or more had been waiting out of sight in case they were needed, rounding up prisoners who had made it this far, weapons drawn. A few sirens, pristine white clothing stained red in places, ran, gags hanging around their necks. An arrow flew from somewhere and cut one down at the sparse tree line. I ducked and reeled back into the water. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t defend myself against them. I’d be killed, too, at any moment.
I had better make the moments count, then.
I shook off the tremor of fear and ran across the uneven shore, dagger clenched in one fist. It was all I had now. One of the abandoned asketis shuffled nearby, ears frantically swiveling one way and then the other, and I crept toward it. “Hello, there,” I breathed, extending my free hand, palm up. It eyed me and shied away, but didn’t run. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re alright. You’re going to be fine. Will you help me?”
Slowly, as slowly as I dared, I stepped closer, watching its every movement. When I was an arm’s length from it, I reached up to brush my fingers along its thick mane. It didn’t shy away again, so I rubbed its neck gently. “Good. Good. That’s right. Everything’s alright.”
Nothing was alright. Nothing was close to alright. But the asketi relaxed a fraction, nudging at my hand and stepping toward me, so I rubbed its nose a final time and swung myself on. I half-expected it to throw me to the ground, but it stood strong beneath me.
Weeks ago, I never would have climbed onto the back of a strange horse. Now it was the least of the dangers. I lifted its forgotten reins and clucked my tongue. “Let’s go.”
It took off in an instant, as if it knew the urgency that echoed in every beat of my heart, and I forced myself not to look back. Not at the lake or at the ledge where he might be waiting. Only ahead as I rounded the rough, rocky climb and galloped for the graveyard. Ahead to where the clashing of metal and pained wails of the wounded pierced the air. Ahead to death and destruction. I didn’t know what I planned to do once I got there, but turning back wasn’t an option.
Marassa was right: they weren’t my people. I hadn’t been born among them and I had no responsibility to them. But the moment Moray had thanked me in its begrudging whisper, the moment Kieras had given me her first smile, the moment Raeth had looked me in the eye with no trace of disdain, even the moments with Aven, every beautiful, fake one—those had made me theirs.
Maybe not all of them. There were plenty of people in the Court who didn’t deserve my help. Maybe Kieras and Raeth and Moray were in the minority. But whoever they were, I couldn’t let them die.
There were fifty of them, bound and powerless. How long would it take for them to be slaughtered? Did I have time to do anything but join them?
Did it matter, if their dying screams were going to echo in my nightmares for the rest of my life?
Faster, I urged the asketi on as the first signs of blood-splattered dirt came into sight. A woman was lying face-down nearby. I kept my gaze forward. The windsbane knife felt hot and heavy in my hand.
I got a glimpse of the chaos before the entire world pitched with a wordless, animal shriek. Feathers and wood caught my eye, the arrow’s point deep in the asketi’s side. Its eyes rolled, flanks heaving, pace frantic, and I froze as panic rose in my throat.
No. No. Breathe. Concentrate.
The animal had taken me as far as I needed. I couldn’t help it now, not without risking everything. With a quick, silent vow to return as soon as I could—and a painful apology if I couldn’t—I eyed the ground flashing past. Too fast. We would barrel straight into the battle and I’d be dead before I knew it, or I’d be crushed when the asketi fell.
Raeth had been graceful and lightning-quick when he’d leapt to the ground from his asketi, no care for the speed they were flying at through the trees. I was no siren, no trained hunter and fighter, but I’d spent weeks studying his every move.
I dropped the reins and the ground came rushing at me. For the second time that morning, I struck with enough force to send every inch of me vibrating with pain, every wound screaming for my attention as dirt and stones tore them open and ground their way inside. When I stopped rolling, I laid on the ground, panting, waiting for the world to stop dancing.
When it did and the nausea had settled, I scrambled up, but got as far as my hands and knees before something shoved me down again. Cheek pressed against the ground, I saw a dirty, bloodied boot, I was willing to bet the twin was on my back. A guard. “I saw what you did,” a voice snarled in the rough tones of a merrow. One of Namak’s many guards still following him and Marassa. “I don’t need to wait for the Lords here, I can execute you myself.”
I tightened my grip on the knife and slashed toward the boot, but a gloved hand pried the blade away before I got close. I clawed at the guard’s fingers, throat closing. I couldn’t lose that knife.
“I’d rethink that sentencing if I were you.” Pretty, musical tones in the enchantment, and I choked on a sob that was half-horrified, half-relieved. I strained my neck to see a sliver of Kieras, bindings loose and torn around her wrists. “Let me see that knife, would you?” The request dripped with honey, and I heard a few soft movements and then a sick, wet slicing sound. Warmth spilled on my back and an instant later the weight vanished. I shoved myself up.
The guard had collapsed to the ground, throat slit, eyes bulging and one hand cupped over the wound like he could staunch the bleeding. Kieras held out my knife and I took it. But I couldn’t look away from her. It’d been so easy. Her hand was soaked in blood and she didn’t so much as flinch at the sight, just wiped it on her dress.
“You’re not only a slave, are you?” I managed.
She gave me a smile that was somewhere between tired and sheepish. “Raeth would never have been allowed to bring his personal guard into the Eyes. I didn’t mean to lie, but I couldn’t risk you letting it slip.”
That was too much to process. I studied her white dress. “They took you as one of the sacrifices?”
“Luckily for us the Queen considered it appropriate that some of Raeth’s girls be involved. Are you alright?”
“Fine,” I murmured. Kieras wasn’t a slave, she was a guard. One of Raeth’s personal guards. Was nobody in this Court who they said they were? But I couldn’t be mad, not after she’d saved my life.
“Good.” She nodded. “Good. Keep that knife handy and get as far from here as possible.”
“I’m not going before the guards are stopped—” I broke off, staring around us. Sirens and selkies alike were dead on the ground. “Why are they going after both?”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “Namak’s a vicious one. The Queen thought you were loyal to selkies, so they have to go too. Teach a lesson. Now go, Hania. Trust me. You don’t want to be here. I need to find Raeth. Go before anybody else notices you.”
“No.”
“Hania—”
“I want to help.”
She bounced on her toes impatiently and looked from me to something beyond and back. “I’m trained for this, you aren’t,” she tried one last time. I met her gaze. “Fine. But I know Raeth and he’ll be right in the heart of this, taking care of any guard he can’t call off. I can’t take you into that.”
“You can’t go into that,” I said.
“It’s my job.”
A tinkling, sun
light-and-water voice came from behind us. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I spun to face the dazzling spot of reflections that was Moray. Part of me almost cried, or laughed, but all I did was stare. “Moray.”
“Well? Let’s go, little one, we have work to do. Lives to save.”
Kieras swept closer to peck me on the cheek. “Be safe,” was what she left me with, and then she was gone.
Moray watched her go, shaking its head. “I can’t believe Raeth got away with sneaking them in. Even I didn’t know.” Another guard spotted us and started forward, but made it only a step before Moray raised a hand. He staggered back, gaping. Though Moray kept its eyes on him, narrowed and burning, it was pale and dull, and I could see the struggle it was to keep its concentration as the guard fell, unconscious.
“I’m sorry,” Moray,” I said in a rush. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I thought—I thought you would be alright and—”
It cut me off. “Not now, Hania. I’m alright. I will be. Where’s Aven?” The question was a blow. My knees trembled and the blood drained from my face. “Where is he?”
“He’s…he’s…”
“Hania!”
My head jerked to the side, and I saw Aven stalk toward us. Slow and deliberate. I lurched away a step.
“There you are, love.”
I swallowed hard and adjusted my grip on the knife. “Don’t come near me.”
A smirk played on his lips. “Since when are you so against me being near you?”
I wasn’t going to stand here and play games. Not now. I raised the knife, leveling it with his chest. “I said, don’t come near me.”
Moray’s attention flickered between us. “Hania—”
“It was all a lie, Moray,” I said. My voice shook and cracked. “All of it. And tell me you didn’t know, Moray, please—please—”
Aven laughed again. “Begging my sprite to help you? I thought you could take care of yourself.” The point of the blade trembled. I risked a quick glance to Moray to see shock written across its face. Aven took my silence as an invitation to continue. “I didn’t lie when I said you surprised me. I did expect you to break, and you never did. But this? It’s gone too far.”
Tide Page 46
