“King Neptunus. Parker. Teachie. Rackham.” I kept my eyes screwed shut and repeated the names from my turn-to-dust list like a mantra.
Shit. Please don’t let me turn Aranare and Skye to dust.
My body vibrated with the power thrumming through my veins, desperate for liberation. I visualized calm, and with one final exhale, I released.
The world stilled, and I became weightless, suspended in the air with my eyes closed. I couldn’t move, but I didn’t want to. The stillness was so serene, so lovely, I could have stayed there forever.
A vision formed behind my closed eyes, and I knew immediately who it was: Manannán, the bronzed Minoan sailor. This time, he was on his boat, moving across the creaking deck, his sun-darkened skin glistening with sweat and salt. Copper bracelets clinked at his wrists as he hauled a rope through his hands, securing the sail with a knot. His loincloth, simple and girdled at the waist, flapped in the sea breeze, revealing muscular thighs. His son was with him, and he watched his father in awe.
Manannán shaded his eyes with his forearm, noticing dark clouds on the horizon. He turned to the boy. “A storm’s coming. I shouldn’t have brought you—it’s too dangerous.”
“But you’re the best sailor in our kingdoms, Daddy. I will be fine with you.”
Manannán chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair.
The vision faded as I hit the wet ground with a thud, Skye and Aranare swimming back into view, looming over me.
“What happened?” I asked, looking around blearily.
Aranare was laughing so hard he could barely speak. “You—you—” He choked, wiping tears from his eyes. “Well, it’s safe to say you mastered it, but you used it on yourself.”
“Shut up.” I stood, flipped him off, and burst into laughter too.
Skye wasn’t laughing. Her eyes were narrowed on me, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Why were you muttering Parker’s name?”
Shit.My throat bobbed.
“It was my turn-to-dust list,” I mumbled.
“Why isheon your turn-to-dust list?”
“He tried to kill you, Skye.”
“I-I can’t. I need to clear my head,” she snapped, turning on her heel and striding back down the cliff.
“Skye.” I jogged after her, grabbing her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I just need some space.” She shook me away, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll meet you at the jetty.”
“We leave at sunset,” I called, my shoulders slumping as tears of worry formed in my eyes.
She ignored me, waving a hand over her shoulder. A shadow of fear crept over me as I stomped back to Aranare.
“Do you think she’ll go back to him?” he asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he watched her disappear down the path.
“I don’t know . . .” My throat tightened.
“I’ll deal with this.” A ripple of anger rolled off his frame. “You should check in on your grandpa before we leave.”
13
Skye
Ihad been walking for what felt like hours, and somehow, I found myself on the clifftop, pacing back and forth near Parker’s drive. The cold wind was toying with my hair and plucking at my sweater. Well, it was Morgana’s sweater. All my clothes were still at Parker’s.
The thought dragged my gaze to his architecturally designed pad, nestled into the cliff’s plateau.
I missed my clothes. My makeup. My heels. I wrinkled my nose in dismay at the jeans and sneakers I was wearing, but they would vanish if I returned to my Siren form.
