Leo shifts, nestling himself into Merrick’s side. Merrick holds out a familiar flask to me. “Drink it now, before we go over.”
I grimace at the sight of it. “I’d rather take my chances than drink that slop.”
But I take it anyway. Merrick has cooled it enough that I can drink it without pausing, my stomach revolting as the taste hits the back of my throat.
Leo laughs when I make a twisted face at him. “There. We’re as ready as we’re going to get, thanks to Merrick and his tea.”
But it helps. My mind clears, helped along by the bitter macra leaves. The exhaustion that seems to dog my heels at every step falls back, just a little.
Just enough.
Planting my feet steadily against the wood of the deck, I take a long, deep breath. I can feel eyes on me— eyes of starlight and darkness that belong to a woman with far too much pain inside her, and I force myself to ignore the prickle against my skin that nudges me to look back.
I need to focus.
The waves beneath us crash against the lower depths ofVolatus, as if they can sense my intent and do not like it. And I close my eyes.
The threads are there. As they always are, gathering on the edges of my mind. Waiting. Thousands of threads. Only a few of them glow with the maegis,those I have been pulling since we left the Terrosan harbor shining brightly amongst the otherwise dull strands.
Once, when I was a boy and the world had not yet changed, Merrick had asked me to describe the inside of my mind to him during a lesson. He had caught me staring at a quill, the feather hovering in mid-air as I practiced writing my name in swirling loops—so much easier than using clumsy hands that couldn’t seem to put the letters in the right order, no matter how hard I tried.
I had told him about the threads. When he pushed for more, I had described them as a thousand colored threads of yarn, each one different to my mind’s eye and yet identical, stretched out in endless lines that I could flick through to search for the right ones. Told him how I could reach for them, touch them, coax them into life by pulling on the ends.As if I were a spider, I had explained with growing enthusiasm,andmy threads were my web.
I had told him how threads lit up when others spoke. Confessed how the threads shifted, how certain threads lit when others were lying in my presence. And I had shyly shown him how I could move smaller things around me by pulling on those threads, sure that he would grin with pride.
For I had not yet reached adulthood. Was years away from it, barely Leo’s age. But Caelum had already gifted me with maegis,and I thought that made me special.
Merrick had kneeled in front of me, his weathered face grim and uncommonly angry. He had gripped my shoulders and toldme that I was not to say a single word to anyone else. Not to my mother, my father, my brother.
Tell no one,he had said firmly.Promise me, lad. Keep it hidden until you reach your majority, like everyone else. I will help you.
I blink, clearing the memory from my eyes. The endless black of the Never stretches out in front of me.
The hand on my arm is as familiar to me as my own. Merrick squeezes lightly in silent encouragement, his murmured words almost hidden beneath the increasing rush of waves that seem to hitVolatuswith more urgency, as though they sense our intent and try to prevent it. “Steady now, Callan. We have time for you to take. Don’t rush.”
Above our heads, the sunset is darkening further, into deep shades of pink and purple edged with gold.
Nodding, I close my eyes again. I reach for the threads I need, but the ends slither out of my reach. Shifting, refusing to obey as I grit my teeth.
You are already bleeding.
The doubt creeps in between each delicate link, gripping my mind with insidious talons that burrow deep.You will not make it. You condemn them all with your hubris.
Instead of rushing, snatching, I wait. Wait for an opening, and then I strike. The threads shift and dance and attempt to pull away, but I hold them tightly, dragging them closer.
Yield. My own whisper fills my mind.Yield.
And the doubt murmurs again, pushed back by the maegis as those threads begin to glow.There will be a cost.
There is always a cost. But I have the threads we need, and my tense muscles soften a fraction as my eyes slide open.
I look around, forcing amusement into my voice. “Perhaps I should give some sort of speech. Like last time.”
“No.” Four voices snap back at me. Selene remains silent, observing from her spot at the bulwark beside Esme.
Merrick sighs. He pats my arm once more before moving away to give me space. “For the love of Hala, Callan. We have time, but not eternity. Getonwith it.”
“Well.” Pressing my hand over my chest, I roll my eyes. “The thanks I receive.”
