When the fiery bursts faded against the stars, Arion and Gerardboarded the ships. No. I quickened my pace. Jonas’s hold on my hand tightened and he lengthened his stride. What was the plan? Moments ago, my nightmare was at ease, now his jaw tightened and there was tension building over his shoulders.
Until . . .
The surface of the sea churned violently. White tipped tides boiled like a thousand fish thrashed toward the surface. Not only ahead, but to the northern edges of the isle and the southern. As though surrounded, the dark sea shattered.
A gnashing serpent figurehead erupted from below the water. Crimson sails cracked in the wind, and the jagged spikes of bone from ancient sea serpents carved toward the skies.
The royal ship of the Ever King.
More ships rose across the whole of Natthaven’s waters. Blue sails with skulls, narrow hulls and pale laths of Gavyn Seeker’s vessel. A vicious ship with black sails cut on the other side. Newer than the others, the lacquer on the hull still glimmered beneath the moonlight.
The ship of the Lady of Blades.
Merfolk bared their needle teeth. Sea singers and their gnarled faces and seductive voices beckoned to the Ljosalfar. Sirens joined the call, luring unsuspecting warriors toward the tides.
“Bloodsinger!” Jonas raised his blade toward the sky.
Along the upper deck of the first ship, the Ever King cranked the helm, tilting the bow toward the escaping prince and king.
I laughed, softly at first, then louder with more unbound rage. They were surrounded. Fae answered the call for my nightmare, no care that I was elven, no care that my folk attacked them not so many months ago.
Fire launched from the sides of the Ever Ship. The booms cracked through the night as the king fired his strange spears and burning stones at Arion and his men. It forced the Ljosalfar back onto the shore.
Arion tried to snatch at any light, no mistake, desperate to save his own neck.
From another pathway near the palace, a rush of guards in the blue and silver of the shadow elven raced for the shores, spears and swords raised. Fiske and Isak and the woman I knew as Ash’s sister were amongthem, likely the ones who’d freed my warriors from their makeshift prison.
Dokkalfar blades launched onto the shore against Gerard’s weary warriors.
With a new kind of desperation on his face, Arion attempted another spiral of his affinity. I opened my palm free of a dagger and surrounded the spark in dark, creeping mists, wrenching his pitiful magic into the Nothing.
Arion staggered back, barely having time to lift his sword before I crashed the dagger down against him.
“Skadinia!”
“I hate that name.” I slashed again. “You tortured me.” Another strike. “Mocked me, brutalized me.”
“Stop.” Arion slashed his sword against me. “I forced you to do nothing. You marred your own flesh.”
“Convinced it was the only way to be free because of you!” I nicked his ear.
He cupped a hand over it, dabbing at the blood, and narrowed his gaze. “You will never be accepted here without me. Don’t you see that? Your own clan despises you.”
I shook my head. “No. Mytrueclan came for me. The Dokkalfar and Ljosalfar are welcome to join the alvers once you are dead.”
Arion sneered. “I don’t think that will happen.”
“Skadi, watch it!” someone shouted for me.
I spun around. Gerard rushed at me, blade raised, readied to land a killing blow.
But two paces from me, the king’s legs buckled. Black, pulpy veins bloomed from the corners of his eyes, his brow, from his lips. The king cried out in heartbreaking terror.
Both Sander and Jonas stepped onto the shore, eyes blackened, and prowled around the king.
Together, Jonas crafted a nightmare and Sander twisted it into a manipulated memory so deep a soul would believe the horrors to the point of madness. They could break a mind with their forced fear.
The way the twins launched at the Ljosalfar king, never easing no matter how Gerard cried out in fright, was magnificent to watch.
