Serenna felt it then, as clearly as the pulse of rending gripping her. She and Saundyl were both performing—she was sure of it. Both trapped in the same grim play, reciting lines they hadn’t written, shackled to scripts inked by commands.
A soldier shifted behind her, the grind of plated armor breaking the brittle quiet.
Serenna’s lungs scraped for air. She thought of Jassyn and if he stood now on another deck, enduring his own interrogation. He’d turned Bhreena and Daeryn’s loyalties with steady conviction, in finding common ground. Maybe it would work for him again.
She could do the same. Saundyl was her brother.And if there was anything left in him unclaimed by orders, it lived in the shape of his family’s freedom from the elves.
She saw no other way forward and had to try. Even if it cost her.
“Your wife and son,” Serenna said softly, trying to aim the words for him alone. “My people have an idea of where they’re being kept.”
Saundyl’s gaze snapped to hers. In that instant she couldn’t tell if she’d offered him a spark of hope or struck the match that would burn them both. Shadows coiled tighter at her wrists, a reminder of who held her prisoner.
Serenna braced against the urge to flinch. By now, the raid was hopefully over, and sharing more wouldn’t put Lykor or Vesryn at risk.
“We think they’re held in a mountain prison,” she rasped. “And if they’re not, we’ll keep searching.”Her mouth dried, but she pushed further. “If you help us, Lykor—”
The name slipped free before she could think better of caging it. Saundyl’s eyes narrowed.
Serenna bit her tongue, nearly choking on the rest. “He’s leading the mission to free those imprisoned.”
A dangerous hush settled over the rolling deck, broken only by the distant hiss of wind tearing at the sails. Her heart hammered wildly with the certainty that she’d reminded her brother of the blood Lykor had spilled during his rampage.
And perhaps worse, that she’d placed herself beside Lykor. Her name cast in the same alloy. Stamped with the same treason.
“Help us,” Serenna whispered, the plea raw in her throat. “Please.”
Saundyl gave no reply, but his jaw clenched, bone shifting beneath skin.
“You can still choose,” she pressed, ignoring the ring of soldiers and her drying blood.
She looked at him. Really looked. At the fatigue bruised beneath his eyes as if every battle he’d fought in silence had hollowed them out. At shoulders braced by obligation. At the hard line of his mouth, tight around the words he wasn’t allowed to speak.
“You think we have a choice?” Saundyl murmured.
Serenna’s heart dropped as he stepped back. And in that decisive motion, the mask sealed, armor cinching tight until not even the faintest glimmer of her brother remained.
They were just pieces now, set against each other on the same board. He wasn’t pretending loyalty for the soldiers. He wasn’t pretending at all.
Serenna’s head snapped up as a flare of fire split the sky.
The blazing flame slammed into a nearby ship, tearing through the deck before the shamans could twist it aside. Another fireball screamed through the wind, scorching sailcloth as it rained down on a second vessel.
Smoke spiraled upward in a churning plume, and through the haze, a figure flew.
Fenn.
On molten wings flung wide, he streaked across the sky. Fire streamed from his fists as he skimmed low over the decks—wrath burning like the sun itself.
Searching.
Serenna couldn’t reach Fenn’s mind, not with the bond smothered. And even if she could, there were too many enemies poised to strike him from the sky.
He needed to flee.
She didn’t know how far he’d managed to portal Cinderax, only that it wouldn’t have been all the way to Asharyn. Someone had to make it back, to ensure the dragon and the Heart of Stars returned.
If Fenn didn’t leave now, he might not be able to at all.
