Eira worked to hide her turmoil and disappointment. “Risen?”
“Fine, as ever. You didn’t implement any lasting damage.”
“Good.” At the mention of “lasting damage,” Eira took stock of the rest of her body. It didn’t seem like there were too many other wounds. “So, Isle of Frost to restock, and then off to pirate some unsuspecting shores?”
“You know the general idea.” Adela nodded. “Not much longer now.” She retrieved a waterskin from the table by the chairs. She returned and uncorked the top. “You’ll catch on to this quickly. And, while I’ll admit there’s nothing like your own flesh and bone, I daresay a part of you might enjoy having an arm that is part water, part ice, part weapon, and all magic.”
Eira gave a slight nod. As Adela had said, the fates had shown their cards and this was what she was destined for.
“Summon the water,” Adela instructed.
Eira did so, guiding it from the waterskin to the stump attached to her shoulder.
“First make it look like an arm.”
Eira focused intently on the water. It was easy enough to forge into the shape. Both natural and unnatural. Natural in that itfeltlike an extension of her. The power was familiar and as second nature to control as her right arm was. But unnatural in sight. It was wrong to see that watery, nebulous arm taking shape where her body should be.
No, not wrong, different, she reminded herself firmly. Wishing for what had been would pass quickly, Eira vowed. This was a change. Albeit an unexpected one. But not one that would alter her course. She still had the power to forge her own path.
Mother above, she’d be all the more fearsome for it.
“Good.” Adela’s praise was genuine. “Next we will harden it to ice, and then work on its movements…”
Eira wiggled the fingers on her icy hand. It was still an odd phenomenon.
She’d been working on it with Adela for the better part of the day, but eventually the pirate queen had wandered off, declaring she had “better things to do” and that Eira would “simply have to figure the rest out on her own.” With that, Eira had been left to dress herself as the setting sun streamed through the back windows.
The clothes were ones she’d never worn before. A pair of light gray, woolen trousers and a crisp white shirt with ruffles on the sleeves. Adela had set out two pairs of leather gloves—one black, one white. Eira selected the white ones.
At first, her frozen hand was too large and she nearly gave in to frustration with her struggles. Then she remembered that she could adjust the shape of the ice to fill it perfectly.
It was more natural with the sleeve and the glove. Staring at her arm now, she could almost tell herself that she hadn’t lost the arm at all. Eira balled her hands into fists, and then rolled up her sleeves so the slightest bit of ice was showing.
She had nothing to hide from the world…or from herself. This was who she was now. Eira turned her gaze to the mirror, sweeping hair from her eyes.
The streak of white that had been left behind from her initial experimentation from the rune and echoes had migrated across all her hair, as if the color had been bleached from it. Her eyes were a pale blue, the color fainter than ever before. Yet, somehow, her gaze was sharper for it. Scars lined her cheeks.
She no longer recognized herself. Yet…had never felt more like the woman she was meant to be.
Eira started for the door, taking a breath before making her return to the world. Crow wasn’t outside. Though it didn’t take long for Eira to spot a friendly face.
“Ducot!” Eira sprinted up to the quarterdeck. He barely had time to react before she crashed into him. “You made it!”
“No thanks to you.” Even as he huffed and muttered, his arms wrapped around her waist, returning the squeeze. “So dramatic, sleeping for days, losing an arm…”
“I know, I’m the worst.” Eira released him with a slight smile. “You managed the shift rift all right?”
“Risen’s still standing, as am I, so we’ll call it good enough.” His grin suggested there was lasting damage.
She almost hesitated before asking the next question but she had to know. “Everyone else?” Adela had told her nothing. Though, their focus had been elsewhere.
“Yonlin and Olivin are back in Risen.”
“And Olivin?” Her heart skipped a beat.
Ducot nodded. “He was in rough shape. Would’ve offered to bring him aboard, but given his wounds and the chaos, it was better for him to stay and get patched up.”
He’s alive. The knowledge was bittersweet. Eira’s attention drifted in the direction of Meru—opposite of where they were going. He was so very far from her now. But…even if Olivin hadn’t been so wounded, he would’ve stayed behind. He’d said as much to her; he needed to ensure his brother was safe in the aftermath. There would be no way he could know peace if he wasn’t sure of Yonlin’s wellbeing. And Yonlin wasn’t going anywhere without Alyss…
