It tingles along my skin and down my spine, filling my lungs with every breath. Whatever Illa Ysari is, it’ssteepedin Aether. It no longer feels like the living realm.
Itfeelslike the veil.
I lift my head, heaving a sigh, and Ryc’s hand finds my back.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, concerned.
“I’ll be better once my feet set upon solid ground,” I answer, adjusting my lowered cowl. “A small part of me wondered if sailing was anything like flying. It’s not.”
Ryc laughs, granting me a flash of his fangs. His hood is pulled low over his face, hiding his eyes, yet with his cowl lowered, I’mreminded of the shrouded Ryc I met months ago. The one where I’d often catch glimpses of a handsome smile hidden from the rest of the world.
The sight squeezes my heart.
His hand moves in slow circles along my back. “No,” he replies, smiling. “It’s not.”
I pause, losing myself in his smile.
I’ve never seen Ryc take flight. The closest would be the night I leapt from the balcony. I bet he’s as graceful in air as he is on ground. That’s something I’d like to see.
Ryc steals his smile from my lingering stare, his face darting to his right, toward the top of the viewing deck stairs. Connak emerges from the fog, appearing as if it ferried him. His eyes land upon me and he opens his coat as he approaches.
“Here,” he says, crouching before Ryc and me.
Drawing his hand from his pocket, he offers a crumpled bit of paper, prying it open with his fingers. Inside lies sliced pieces of some kind of root. A faint, sweet and earthy smell wafts to my nose, reminding me of the tea Cora used to favor.
“Ginger root,” he says. “Chew, but don’t swallow. Should help with the nausea.”
It’s a kindness I wouldn’t expect from the sordid captain.
“Th-thank you,” I stammer, reaching for a small piece.
“Glad to be of service,” he replies with a grin, revealing his pointed canines. He crushes the bundle in his hand before tucking it back into his pocket as he settles on his haunches. “We should be dockside in ten, fifteen minutes.”
Working my teeth over the tough root I ask, “Do you sail to Illa Ysari often, Captain?”
Is what we’re doing notable?
Or is this simply no different than day-to-day?
“I wouldn’t say often,” he answers, his brow furrowing slightly with thought. “But this isn’t my first visit if that’s what you’re asking. Though this is the first time we’ve sailed through such a storm to reach it. Your partner didn’t want to wait until the storm blew over.”
No. Ryc wouldn’t have.
I wouldn’t have.
Whatever lies in those archives, I hope what I need is counted among it. Otherwise this journey—enduring thisnausea—will be for naught. And I’m not ready to deliberate what steps I’ll have to take following.
“Has this place always been this way?” I give an ambiguous wave of my wrist to the fog.
Connak glances around, nodding. “Aye,” he says. “Since the fall of the last High Rulers ‘bout fifteen, nearly sixteen hundred years ago. Without them, Aether runs wild. There’s no one to channel it. It does what it wants, unchecked. If you didn’t already know, innate use is ill-advised here. Aether tends to smother it.”
That’s why the wind casters stopped.
My face pinches with confusion. “Does the Aether harm?”
Connak shakes his head. “No, but it messes with how an innate manifests—I’ve heard about a number of kings coming here to see if they’re able to reach their second innate despite the empty thrones.”
“And does it work?” Ryc asks, sounding both amused and curious.
