“Can I find what I need anywhere else?” I snapped.
Dilly stared up from her map, eyes trained on me, body stiff. I instantly regretted losing my temper with her. Of all the people who deserved it, Dilly wasn’t one of them.
Silence stretched, and even the sea quieted her song, waiting to see if the gods would take vengeance on me for daring to challenge their will.
I hated the way they all looked at me like I was sad and broken. A year ago, I would have lain down and lamented my cruel fate. That was what it meant to be sad and broken. Now I refused to bend to any will that wasn’t Bash and Oscar alive and well. I was iron forged and ready to strike whatever was necessary.
“Ifthe legends are true, then no, but there’s no guarantee it even exists,” Dilly said gently, like she was carefully breaking my heart.
“You were the one who told me there’s always a little truth in every legend,” I said.
The sea was now entirely still, darkness setting over with the rise of the half-crescent moon. I held my breath while I stared at it. This night, beneath a crescent moon, was why we’d made port here. If it were going to happen at all, it would be tonight.
We all stilled our rowing, feeling the twilight settle over the sea, mirrored by stars waking up to their night sky. All of them watching to see if I would fail and be everything James ever said I was. They would have to wait a long time for that because I simply refused.
“Are we supposed to be looking for an island that magically appears?” Val said.
I went to glare at her and tell her that her sense of humor was ill-suited to the moment, but she stared to her left with wide eyes.
All the air rushed from me at once, making my head spin.
“An aspidochelone,” Dilly whispered, as reverently as any mass.
“What is that?” Inu said, voice quiet on the wind.
“I knew they were real, but to see one–she’s,” a tear fell down Dilly’s face. “She’s beautiful.”
I didn’t know if that was the word I would have chosen, but it was good enough because all others failed me. That was the thing about the Mysterious Deep: you could spend your entire life searching for something within, but the moment it became real, it still stole your breath and muddled your mind.
“It’s a turtle,” Emille said.
So it was. The island of San Borondón, which was said to come and go at will, was essentially a ginormous turtle with an island on its back. People, for hundreds of years, mistakenly colonized new islands only to find out decades later or even longer that they had not discovered a new island, but an aspidochelone.
Sometimes a turtle, sometimes a whale. The result was always the same. When the creature awoke and dove beneath the surface, no one survived. The mass of its body was such a force that, despite its gentle nature, it was always fatal. Unfortunately, what lived on its shell was important enough that I was willing to risk my life and that of those on this boat for it.
“That’s her head,” Dilly whispered, climbing to the side of the boat like she was going to get in with it.
I couldn’t appreciate what she saw. To me, it was a giant landmass, but maybe, at the edge of the island, I could make out the outline of a shadow beneath. However, there was no soul I trusted more to tell me about the Mysterious Deep than CordeliaShaw. Her word was as good as law. If she said it was a turtle's head, it was a turtle's head.
“You want us to go and get on that thing?” Emille asked, mouth hanging open.
I nodded. “I trust only you to harvest the tree.”
“What tree?” he asked.
I supposed it was now or never. One of the many lessons Sebastian Flynn taught me was the less people who knew a plan, the less risk of it being foiled. Each person knew only enough to get us here.
“Dilly?” I asked, never taking my eyes from the island.
This close, there was no escaping the pull of her if she decided to dive. However, from the research Dilly could gather, she preferred moonlight to sleep by, and this particular night of the moon cycle was a particularly favorite spot. Hundreds of years of hearsay and sightings led us here.
“The Dragon Tree is said to be descended from the Greek myth of Hercules, where he slew a serpent-like dragon whose blood created the tree. Of course, there are many dragon trees throughout the world, but this one is said to be the first.”
“I need you to harvest it, Emille,” I said.
Emille swallowed hard, throat working.
“What am I harvesting it for, Captain?” he asked.
