And that scared her more than almost anything else.
“So, this man shows up out of nowhere, knows who and what you are, and only you can see him. Then he forces you to use your powers to drown everyone? This doesn’t make any sense. Does he want us all dead?” Jade paced back and forth, mayhem still ensuing on the deck behind them as the crew puzzled over the sudden calm.
Kai shook her head slowly. “It didn’t seem like it. At least, not yet. It was like he was trying to send a message. Or wanted to scare us.”
Aidan pulled Kai closer to his side. “Well, I think we’ve found the reason the Aether woke us up.”
The three of them looked at each other, questions and desperation hanging heavy in the air. They were no strangers to times of distress. They had dealt with watching humans suffer in war and had been through their own fair share of afflictions. But back then, they’d only had themselves to fear—their own arrogance and longing for control. They were the four greatest powers in existence.
Now, there was an anonymous outside force. Someone who could manipulate them into wielding their gifts in whatever manner he pleased. Someone who made Kai feel true terror.
Who knew what he would make them do next?
Chapter Sixteen
Isla
Islawokeinpain.
It was duller than before, but still there, a light throbbing along the entire left side of her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to hold back the wave of memories that lapped at her mind.
The bloodthirsty men, the scent of burning flesh, the weight of a body on top of her chest. The blinding pain and fear. The wrathful gray eyes.
Isla sat abruptly, which was a terrible mistake—her stomach rolled and bile crept up her throat. She groaned and tried to steady herself. Reaching a shaky hand to the left side of her face, she ran her fingers along a jagged line of stitches going from her cheekbone to the corner of her eye. It was still swollen, and the sting of her touch caused a sharp breath to escape her lips.
Holding back tears and trying to clear her head, she took a moment to examine her surroundings. She was lying on the ground with several thick blankets beneath her—some were rougher, like saddle blankets, while others felt soft and fluffy. Her head had even been resting on a lumpy pillow. The makeshift bed lay beside the wall of a spacious cavern. A fire burned in a small circle a few yards away, and against the stone wall to her left were folded tunics and trousers, a short pile of old books, a spear, and some empty canteens. Beyond the fire pit was the entrance to the cave, bright sunlight bursting in and illuminating everything it touched.
Why was she in a cave?Again?
Isla did a double take when she saw her own bloody dagger and cloak on the ground and glanced down at her chest. She wore a large black shirt that definitely did not belong to her. It smelled like the sweet tang of an oncoming storm, like falling leaves on an autumn morning. The memory of those piercing gray eyes staring into hers came rushing back. Hadhechanged her clothes?
Isla lifted the coverings from her legs and scooted off the mound of blankets. With one hand clutching her cheek gingerly and the other supporting herself on the ground, she pushed into a standing position.
“What are you doing?” a steady voice asked from the cave entrance.
She whipped around at the sound, then winced and mumbled a curse as a sting ricocheted through her cheek. The man sighed and walked closer, setting the water and food he carried onto a large, overturned bucket.
“Here,” he said as he handed her a folded-up cloth. It was cold to the touch and tied with a piece of string at the top to form a sort of bag. He must have put ice from the ground outside into it. She accepted the pouch and lifted it to her face, practically humming at the numbing relief it brought.
“Thank you,” she said in a raspy voice. Clearing her throat, she asked, “How long have I been here?”
“A day.”
“Aday?” She jolted and winced again at the pull on her stitches.
“The cut has been cleaned and stitched. I went to the nearest town for some supplies and an ointment to help with the swelling.” He motioned to a small tin on the ground.
“Doesn’t look like that’s all you did.” She raised an eyebrow and tugged on her new tunic.
He stared at her for a moment, something like amusement and exasperation flitting briefly across his face. He lifted two fingers and a rush of wind ruffled through her hair and raised the edges of her top.
“Hey!” she cried, holding her shirt down to keep it from flying off.
“I did not have to touch or even look to change your clothing,” he said simply, lowering his hand. With that motion, the wind stopped.
“You could’ve just said that,” she muttered. The corner of his mouth lifted, but the expression quickly disappeared.
He gathered the water and food he’d brought—some bread, cheese, and dried meat—on the pile of blankets. “I thought you might be hungry.”
