“Fighting it is then.” I raise my hand to my mouth, biting on the cuticles. “There’s a way through the Fade at the end of the passage?”
He nods. “It was how I followed my men on the night we met. I saw how the wraiths made it through.”
“Good. Then you can do it again.”
“I did itone time. When I was younger and far more foolish.” There’s a bitter note to his voice. It has the same tone as the self-loathing he admonished himself with in the memory. I can’t stop the slight ache between my ribs. I know that endless cycle of self-deprecation. When every little thing somehow serves to remind you of your failures and shortcomings, yet also inspires you in equal measure to fight to prove that terrible inner voice wrong.
“Well, thank you for being so foolish,” I say softly. Reluctantly. “Otherwise I would’ve died that night.” Have I ever thanked him for what he’s done for me? I can’t recall. Even if it didn’t work out how I might have hoped…I had five years of life that I wouldn’t have, without him.
Maybe I haven’t. Because, at my gratitude, his face turns in my direction. His lips are parted with the slightest bit of surprise. It feels like there’s so much there that he’s not saying. For the first time, I wish he was as clumsy with his thoughts as me. That I could have a glimpse within his mind.
Keeping his eyes locked with mine, Ilryth shifts, gliding through the water to perch on the edge of the map. He leans over. I still, and the world seems to hold its breath a moment. “The only way for us to get to the Gray Passage and to where your ship is will be to go through the Gray Trench here in Midscape. It’s perilous, risky, and—I can’t believe I’m even saying this—if we’re going to do this then I need to be more confident you will be protected.”
“I’m useful in a scrap. I’ve ended more than my fair share of bar fights, even fended off pirates.”
“Above water and against mortal men, I’ve little doubt you can hold your own.” His confidence in my abilities surprises me. “But how do you fare beneath the waves against wayward spirits?” He arches his brows. I give a small shrug, pride not allowing me to outright admit he’s probably right. “We will teach you, though.”
“Teach me, how?”
“You’ll learn more of siren magic, and the words of the old ones.”
Learning these words sounds a lot like he’s getting what he wants… “This isn’t some trick where you’re going to back out of helping me once I know the words, is it?”
His fingers settle under my chin and the scowl my face was working into relaxes away. He’s as ethereal as always, a fitting acolyte for the god of death. So gorgeous it hurts. Seductive enough with a glance to have a woman throwing herself overboard for his arms.Don’t trust a pretty face, Victoria, you know how that ends. “I shouldn’t have to trick you. You already agreed.”
I nod, his fingertips continuing to press into my chin. I fight a shiver when I say, “All right. Let’s begin, then. The sooner the better.”
“Follow me.” He pushes off the map and swims into one of the four tunnels connected to the treasure room. I do as he says.
The tunnel pitches downward. Coral becomes carved stone. Intricate lines are etched into the rock, similar to the whale bone cage I was previously kept in.
We emerge into a landscape of deep blue, richer than the purest indigo dyes Mother could ever procure. Sunlight dances through beams of wood that crisscross the opening above, more carvings upon them, and across the surface of steps carved down in a semi-circle to a half-moon platform at the bottom. It’s an amphitheater, I realize.
“We’ll practice here,” he announces, heading to the lowest point. I continue to follow. “Now, let’s begin—”
I hold up a hand, halting him. “Wait, I have questions.”
“More?” His tone is exasperated, but a slight smirk curls just the very corner of his lips. As if he’s fighting amusement.
“I am trying to grasp a whole world beyond my own. A magical one at that.” I sink down onto the lowest step. “While I’ve gathered bits and pieces, I feel like I’m still missing the whole picture, which it would be nice to have. Plus I think it would help me understand the magic better.”
“You seem fairly sharp; I’d be surprised if you didn’t have the sense of it all.” He folds his arms. The smirk spreads wider.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“And here I was hoping to soften up your crusty exterior.”
“Sorry, ‘Crusty’ is my middle name.”
He snorts. “Victoria Crusty…”
“Datch,” I finish. “My family name is Datch.”
“Victoria Crusty Datch.”
There’s something about hearing my name—even with the “crusty” and not Charles’s—that brings a slight smile across my lips. “Now, indulge me. Start from the beginning and explain everything to me like I know nothing.”
“If you wish.” His expression turns serious. “Roughly fifty years ago, Lord Krokan began to revolt. Our seas became dangerous. From an increase in storms and deadly currents, blight in our crops and lands, his leviathan emissaries turning hostile, an increase in wraiths indicating souls are not able to cross the Veil as they once were, to the rot…every year was harder than the last.”
