“Hence, why I snuck into the storage room.” He gestured to the crates around them. “I didn’t know anyone would be sleeping in here. Are you a stowaway too?”
Adara breathed a laugh. “No.”
“Then what areyoudoing here?” he asked, shooting her an accusatory glare. “Won’t Dominic kill you too?” He waved a flippant hand. “Ya know, King of Keys and all, manipulating girls into falling for him.”
Adara ran a hand through her hair. “It’s a long story,” she muttered more to herself. “From now on, I’m asking the questions,” she demanded. “Your answers will determine if I decide to turn you over to Dominic or not.”
His features were harsh, stern, but something softer lay within his brown irises. Adara scanned his figure, clad in a beige tunic, the buttons undone at his chest to reveal a gold necklace. There appeared to be nothing in the pockets of his brown trousers. A matching coat hugged his broad shoulders, hanging down to the back of his calves.
“You have no weapons.” It was more of a statement than a question, for Adara could see no traces of even something as small as a knife in his clothing.
He smiled, soft and delicate, and held his coat open for her to see the plain inside. “None,” he said proudly, as if his innocuity would be enough to win her over. Foolish was what he was, sneaking onto their ship with no way to defend himself. He walked to the other side of the room and lowered himself to the floor, leaning back on the hull. He settled in like he was completely at home on a ship that wasn’t even his.
Adara narrowed her eyes at him. She sat cross-legged on her bedroll and lit the lantern between them with her magic. “Are youPherra?” she asked quietly. There’d be no chance she could save him if he had magic. Dominic would find a way to steal his key and power for his own.
He shook his head, warily eyeing the flames in the lantern. Confusion contorted his features. His lips parted, as if to ask a question, but then snapped shut, recalling Adara’s demands.
“How did you know we were sailing to Andreilia?” Adara continued her interrogation.
He chuckled, then slapped a hand over his mouth, remembering there were still others who might want him dead on this ship. “Your crew isn’t exactly stealthy,” he replied.
Adara ran a hand over her face. She was going to murder Caleb.
“But that’s not all,” the stranger continued. “I had been on a roof, watching the ocean. All other boats approach from the north or south and sail along the coast until they reach Gierok’s port.” He pointed a finger at her. “Your ship came straight from the west, from the midst of the Plagued Sea. And I know damn well this isn’t the infamous Captain Lunard’s crew.”
Her heart twinged at the mention of Damon. How long had it been since he sailed to Andreilia for her? Without time eating away at her anymore, she’d already lost track of the days. She prayed his luck hadn’t yet run out and that he made it back to Malryn.
Of course, someone would noticeThe Lykrenwas not theValen Wind. Damon’s ship was massive compared to theirs, and the only one known for surviving a voyage across the Plagued Sea.
“I knew the only others capable of surviving the Plagued Sea were those who found the island,” he said.
Adara’s gaze locked on his, searching for any sign of deception. “So, you snuck on the ship in hopes of finding eternal youth?” A nod. “Why?”
He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, speckled with short, thin braids here and there, and sighed in defeat. “Who wants to grow old and die?”
Adara shook her head. She didn’t particularly care why anyone wanted more years. Time was an elusive thing, slipping through her fingers as she desperately grasped for more, yet it was whatmade life so precious—the fact that it didn’t last forever. But that didn’t stop anyone from trying to defy the God of Time, Kairos. “Why risk it?” she questioned. It was more in her interest to find out why eternal youth was worth risking his life for.
His features softened. “Same as you all, I suppose. I’ve got nothing left.”
Adara’s brows creased, lips tugging down. She gave him a once-over again, now noticing how his trousers fit a little loose, their ends frayed above dirty black boots, one with a hole worn through its sole. His coat sleeves had patches of different colored fabric sewn onto them, as if they needed to be repaired multiple times. His tunic was missing a few buttons at the collar. The gold rings on his fingers were tarnished. Other than that, he had no possessions on him.
“What happened?” she asked gently.
“Did you knowPherraare outlawed in Enfider?” he asked.
She nodded.
He fiddled nervously with the chain around his neck. “And what do you think happens when it is deemed acrimeto simply exist?” he seethed, expression hardening. “To live with powers you did not ask for?”
Adara only stared at him.
“Riots,” he said. “Pherraknow they are more powerful than the crown. They are simply outnumbered.”
“So, what?” Adara asked. “Are you some sort ofPherrasympathizer that got caught up in it all?”
“My mother was a Froster,” he began. Sorrow flitted across his dazed eyes, as if he wasn’t seeing Adara before him but his family sometime long ago. “I was always fascinated by the way ice would trail in the wake of her fingers, but my brother . . . he feared it. And our little sister was too young to understand. Eventually, my mother was discovered. We didn’t have enough money to pay for her leave on a dwodi. Sheknew she wouldn’t survive a trip across the Plagued Sea. And she refused to be an experiment for them to try to take her magic. So she was executed.” He leaned his head back against the crates, exhaustion weighing his words. “My brother grew up and joined the king’s guard, believing magic to be a curse from the gods. So whenPherragot the nerve to fight back, he was targeted. A Searling set our house ablaze while we were all asleep, barricaded all the doors and windows so we couldn’t get out. Except for the windows on the second story, where my room was. They couldn’t reach those. I jumped out.
“I went back and broke down the door, smashed through the windows, hoping my brother, sister, and father could make it out but . . . they never did.” His jaw clenched tight, anger instead of despair gripping his features, holding him tight, fueling him to make rash decisions like searching for Andreilia’s enchanted water. “So, I want out. A new start,” he said, jaw set in determination. “I want a new home, one with magic and wonder. A place my mother would have loved. I’d been watching you all,” he said, longing flitting in his irises. “You’re like one big family. The way you and that other boy came back hurt and were immediately helped by the others. The way you all created a diversion and ran rampant like thieves through the street, all with a smile on your face, knowing the others would have your back . . . I want that,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hide.” The words strained to break free from his throat, but once they did, they were like a tsunami—powerful, all-consuming. A tide that would wash away the remains of the past. “I don’t want to be alone.”
