“He was very pleasant to look at and like you,” she nodded to Dilly. “He simply wanted to know. At least that’s what I believed. It was not until I gave myself to him that I realized I knew nothing at all. He took my sea-skin and claimed me as his.”
I was willing to wager that she never got that skin back. She was wild and fierce, much like the North Sea. She was not made for land, but cursed to endure it.
“I had no choice. If I ever wanted to be whole once more, I would endure him. So I did. I endured him until I had a sonand until madness claimed my captor, leaving my skin’s location forever lost to me. I feel it sometimes. It is why I cannot bring myself to leave this place.”
And just like that, she made perfect sense, as well as her reaction to the ink on my skin. Her son knew what it was to imprison another with the power of the North Sea, and yet he still chose it.
“My name is Rose,” I said quietly. “This is my husband, Bash, my brother, Oscar, and my very enthusiastic friend, Dilly.”
The woman huffed a breath at the last, but held out her hand. “I am Morwenna.”
Well, that seemed like we were off to a better start.
“I don’t want to die, Morwenna. Whether by vow or by leviathan, I do not wish it. Can you help escape that fate?”
Morwenna reached over for my now-empty cup and peered into it.
She hummed softly, considering whatever she saw.
“Your present future shows a whale.”
She lifted the cup, and sure enough, the tea leaves that adhered to the wall of the cup appeared as a whale.
“It means that you have become something others feel intimidated by. You are a giant to them, but admiration and jealousy are often two sides to the same coin.”
I turned to see my brother, who I expected to snort or say something smart about all of this, but his eyes were solemn, like he was bracing himself for a blow we could not see.
I’d never heard of whatever practice this was, but Dilly was scribbling furiously in her journal, hanging on every word.
Morwenna raised her eyes to Bash, and the corner of her lips pulled up a fraction.
“A tide crescent.” She showed a half-moon leaf resting at the handle of the cup. “A love rising. Not a gentle one—this is a tidethat takes before it gives. He comes for you with the pull of the moon. You won’t outrun him.”
“I threw up a little bit.” Oscar groaned.
I laughed, but couldn’t help but look at my husband, who was in his most serious face. Not a hint of a smile. Like he, too, was waiting for the final blow.
“I see a loving family, a broken engagement. These shaped you and made you into what you are, but your future–” she said, twisting the cup and staring intently. “There is a serpent in your shadow. It watches. It waits. It already knows your name.”
She showed me a spiral of leaves tightening inward, unmistakably serpentine.
“Edmonds,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “He has become what I knew he always would, but fought against like a minnow against the tide. No amount of love could erode his father’s blood in him. He craves ownership and power just as his father did.”
“Why does he want the shell?” I dared to ask.
Morwenna closed her eyes, whispering something under her breath in a language I couldn’t name. She ignored my question and instead pointed to two parallel swirls, moving in the same direction, never touching the leaves.
“Two currents claim you. You were chosen once the night you were born…and you will be chosen again before this ends.”
“What does that mean?” Bash said, leaning forward, his tone heavy and without hesitation.
Morwenna raised her sea blue eyes to his and shook her head. “I do not know, Captain. I merely read the leaves as the sea taught me. What comes next is carved into the deepest stone trenches.”
She took a long breath before pointing in the teacup to show me jagged leaf shapes forming a row of triangular peaks.
“You seek out grave danger, but I fear I did not need the leaves to know this. After that, there is nothing. As if Ra`n is waiting to decide your fate based on your choices. You may live, but just as likely you will die.”
