The mystery ships from Vrinis.
Augustus calculated the trajectory and speed, and a giddy anticipation wet his lips. The entire world pulled in tight until it was just him, his ship, and his enemy.
Lili gripped his arm. “Augustus. They’re charging us.”
The pirate inside him stirred, and the grin he unleashed was one he hadn’t used in far too long. “I know.”
Selene bathed and dressed, breathing air that had lost its charge. Her entire world had turned its back and left with Augustus. Even her room felt wrong. The tokens she’d purchased and placed on every surface belonged to a girl who had been playing at fitting in. Maybe, deepinside, she’d hoped Augustus would mistake her stillness for belonging. Maybe she’d mistaken it herself.
That future she’d promised Augustus, following the wind and the sun and the stars… Had she ever taken it seriously? Or had she grown so comfortable in the safety of what she knew that she was always looking for a reason to stay?
Was that what she was doing now? Using Dimitrios and the assassinations as another anchor?
These questions filled her mind on her walk outside the palace grounds, the air heavy and warm. She was outfitted and armed for an afternoon of sparring with the nearest willing Blade—she needed to work off this tension.
The dronsian followed along, diving in and out of the treelined path, scaring the wildlife into trees and wearing a big grin.
If Augustus were there, he’d probably say something like, “You’re supposed to hunt and eat them, not play with them. Stupid dragon.”
His absence hollowed out her chest, and the backs of her eyes stung. What were they doing?
The dronsian stopped in front of her and looked up. Head angled to the side, all previous smiles and panting gone. Concern vibrated through her like a low hum.
“I’m all right,” she said, then a traitorous tear dripped onto her cheek. “We had a fight about leaving Perean. He wants to leave as soon as possible, and I don’t think I’m ready.”
The little scaled body scuttled to her shoulder, where he nudged her cheek. Images flooded her mind. The pregnant women she’d been seeing all these months. The one from the docks who made her think of Noi. The strange pull she had to all of these unborn children.
In the last image, Selene stood in the mountain temple with the woman who had seen her across the centuries. She’d said the two words that have haunted Selene more than anything else. “Hello, Mother.”
“I wish I knew what any of this meant,” she said to the dronsian. “But I know where to find someone who might be able to help.”
Selene still didn’t know if she could walk away from Dimitrios with his world crashing down, but she couldn’t ignore the information Blaze had given her either.
She kicked a stone across the dirt road and located theEntiafloating out on the bay. “I have to talk to Augustus.”
She wanted to tell him about the people in the Trayterre Isles, but she needed to make things right between them more. Her world didn’t feel centered without him.
Selene reached a split in the road that took her toward the docks, and the market surrounded her like a living thing. Scents collided—sea brine and spiced smoke, cut by the sharp tang of sun-warmed fish entrails and dried blood. Crates scraped. Hooks clanged. Somewhere, a merchant barked a laugh that stopped halfway through.
The dronsian paused near a pail of rotted fish to watch the flies buzz. Overhead, sunlight baked the edges of fabric awnings. It was the sort of scorching day that felt more like summer.
Despite the heat, it was business as usual in the market streets. Another day working to survive what the previous regime had started.
Selene adjusted the weight of her weapons on her hips, strolling toward the docks. The dronsian darted ahead, then stopped suddenly, head jerking toward a shaded alley, his body taut and still.
She followed his gaze. Nothing. Just stacked crates and fluttering tarps. But she felt it too—a shift in the air, like someone had just held their breath.
Probably nothing. A child playing hide and seek.
“Good day, Selene!” came a call from the left.
She waved at the butcher’s son, urging a smile past her unease. He tossed a dried fig to the dronsian, who snatched it mid-air and bounded after a passing gull.
A shadow moved in her peripheral.
If Oskar were here, he’d tell her to trust her instincts, and right now they were screaming.
Instead of continuing to the docks, Selene detoured into a side lane, weaving past baskets of squid and netting. She stopped at a basket of lemons and put one to her nose, inhaling the citrus.
