Her body ached. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying here, tied up and motionless, but the arm beneath her was numb and prickling. She tried to pull her hands free of their bonds, but every attempt to wriggle free made the cords cut into her skin, the knots completely ungiving. Summer slid down the lumpy surface of her makeshift prison bed and began using her bare feet to explore her surroundings. Her toes made contact with a ribbed, vertical surface. Wall? She moved her feet across it. Outrage flared. No. Not a wall. They hadn’t put her in a room but in some sort of cage. Like an animal!
If she hadn’t been gagged, she could have used Persuasion to command any guard within hearing distance to release her, and then she could have taken over the ship, one pirate at a time, but with her voice silenced, her options were limited.
This would have been the perfect time for some practical magical gift, like the ability to unravel binding ties or send telepathic calls for help along with detailed information to help lead rescuers to her location. Or even something as simple as the ability to slow her captors down. Dilys was days away, but Wynter surely would have already sent a rescue party after her. If she could slow the ship, it would give her rescuers a chance to catch up.
Summer stilled.
She was on a ship at sea. She was in possession of a weathergift. Storms at sea were no laughing matter. And never was the threat of a storm at sea more troubling than in the hottest months of the year, when the temperature of the oceans reached their peak, and the air became a volatile soup ready to explode with wild fury.
Gabriella wasn’t Khamsin, able to summon a tempest on a whim, but she was still the Season whose giftname was Summer. She carried the fire of the Sun itself inside her.
The only problem was that, unlike Storm, whose magic burst upon the world with every stray emotion, Gabriella had spent most of her life suppressing the deadly fire inside her. Afraid of losing control, she’d rarely used anything but the smallest portion of her gifts to summon cooling breezes and gentle rain to make summers pleasant rather than stultifying and to aid with the growing of bountiful crops.
Now, if she had any hope of slowing this ship, Summer needed more than a gentle breeze. She needed power enough to summon a strong headwind. Something with enough force to slow this magic-powered ship. That meant channeling more magic than she’d ever done on purpose.
That meant tapping the volcano.
She took a deep breath, pushing back her anger and fear over being kidnapped. Pushing back the anxious tension that coiled in her body like a hissing snake.Stay calm, Gabriella. Stay in control. All you need is a little of what lives inside you. You want to summon a headwind, not a hurricane.
When she was sure she’d released as much fear and tension as possible, Gabriella took another breath and reached inside herself to that hot, molten, fiery place that dwelled at her core. The one that lay hidden, trapped beneath so many layers of stony discipline and buffering calm. And there it was, the fuel at the heart of a flame. Sun bright. Sun hot.
The gift of Helos.
A portion of the god’s power gifted to her, just as a portion of his power lay inside all who bore the red Rose. Those who—she now knew, thanks to Khamsin’s discovery of Roland’s sword—were the human descendants of Helos himself, through Roland, the son the god had conceived upon a mortal queen.
Helos, help me,she thought fervently. Her parched lips formed the words around the gag that silenced her.
And with deliberate calm, she peeled back the layers of control—the years of discipline and distance—that kept her power in check.
As she worked, she sent her senses outside herself, wafting out through the walls of her current prison, through the bowels of the ship, into the brisk, briny sea air. The sun was high in the sky, pulsing with light and power. So warm. Much warmer than it had been in Konumarr.
She could feel the great ocean of currents in the sky. Up rose the heated air. Down flowed the cooler air from the highest reaches. The rise and fall of the air generated a magnificent, endless dance of winds, energy stored in every molecule. And high above the dancing surface level winds roared the great invisible river that guided and pushed the lesser currents.
Summer reached out with her power, seeking a place ahead of the ship. Heating the sea and air with a controlled lash of power. Hot, moist air thrust up into the atmosphere. Cooler, denser air rushed into the void left behind. A gust of wind blew hard. The ship shuddered as the wind punched the sails and a large wave slapped the bow of the boat.
She fed more energy into the sea and the sky, drawing winds directly her way. Power crackled in the distance as the volatile air began to condense and clouds began to form. As she fed the storm, she tasted a familiar tang on the wind.
“Vivi?” Gabriella’s garbled whisper came out little more than a muffled grunt of sound.
Spring’s magic was there, in the sky with her own, adding more warmth to Gabriella’s own, widening the circle of heated air and water. Helping her feed the storm.
Gabriella bit her lip, fear and love fighting inside her. If Spring was there in the sky, that meant she must be here on the boat, too. The kidnappers hadn’t taken just Summer. They’d taken Viviana, too.
The ship lurched to one side as a powerful gust of wind struck hard. Gabriella cried out as the sudden roll of the ship lifted her body and threw her into the wall of the cage. Wood creaked and groaned. Men shouted above decks.
She grunted in pain as the righting of the ship smacked her facedown onto the lumpy, smelly pallet.
Summer was still struggling to roll over onto her back when the door to her small prison slammed open. Heavy boots stomped across the wooden floor.
“Awake and causing mischief,” a harsh, gravelly voice declared. “The captain is not amused.”
There was the sound of the cage being opened. Then hard hands flipped her over with ease and a damp cloth covered her nose and gagged mouth. She tried to scream, tried to struggle, but the man was too strong for her to fight.
The familiar, pungent odor of whatever he’d poured on the cloth filled her nostrils. Her mind went lethargic, thoughts muzzy. The tension in her body faded. The effects of the powerful sedative slipped over her like a shroud.
Once more, everything went black.
“My futurelianaand her two sisters have been stolen, and you think I had something to do with it? Have you lost all reason?” Dilys glared at Wintercraig’s king. Upon their return to Konumarr, Dilys and his men had been greeted by armed guards—not just guards on high alert due, but suspicious, angry, hostile guards. Dilys’s men had been taken into custody, while Dilys himself had been escorted by a dozen armed and angry White Guards into the palace throne room, where both Wynter of the Craig and his queen were waiting.
