The scent of fish and brine filled Caramyn’s nostrils. It was still dark, but the light was starting to come through, bit by bit. She felt as though she was rocking back and forth, floating, but she couldn’t move her hands to steady herself as they were bound by thick rope. Someone pressed a cold rag to the back of her head and was mumbling something to her in a gritty whisper. “You’re waking up. It’s all right.”
She wanted to open her eyes, but she was afraid to reveal herself if they were an enemy of magic. She fought the tempting urge to look at her surroundings, and she strained her ears to listen for any small sound that might be familiar. So she held hereyes shut, still pretending to be unconscious. But it was too late to fool the person at her side.
“It’s all right. I know you’re awake,” he said, a kindness in his voice. “I’m sorry that someone did this to you. And I’m sorry you ended up here.”
She still didn’t open her eyes. She wanted to hear the reassuring call of her raven. But as her senses returned, even with her eyes closed, she realized she wasn’t imagining the floating sensation. The sounds of water and creaking wood were clear as the frigid, moist air on her skin. She had never seen a ship before, but she was certain she was on one.
She listened quietly as the sounds around her all melded into one chaotic orchestra—the crew above rowing in unison to steady chants. Gulls screeching faintly. Waves lapping the sides of the boat and the captain calling out orders. And a low, haunting sound of women weeping that pierced her to the core.
“What are you doing, healer? Get back up here and stop wasting time!” The booming voice from above bellowed nearby suddenly.
The male voice at Caramyn’s side responded. “This one is not well. If I don’t tend to her injury, she’ll be in no shape to make port. She certainly won’t be fit to make it up the mountains.”
“So what? It’s not our problem if she doesn’t survive once she’s their property.”
“But Captain…” the voice was pleading. “This one is exceptionally lovely. They’ll be willing to pay a high price for her, but not if she’s half-dead. Think of the profit you could make from her if she’s at her peak.”
“Aye, very well. Fix her, then, Brenn. But be quick about it.”
“Yes sir.”
The sound of heavy boots grew faint, leaving the sounds of only the man tending to her. He pressed a palm to her head. Then pulled away briefly only to return and lay something acrossher forehead—a small chain or string of jewelry. With a few whispered words from the voice, she felt the bruise on the back of her head fade away. The swelling subsided, and the ache was gone.
She realized from her readings that this was a complicated healing spell. The chain over her forehead must’ve been enchanted to channel the magic. And that made this man a skilled Spellbound. So she decided it was safe to open an eye. The piercing sun shining through slats in the deck above nearly blinded her, but once she blinked and turned away, her vision adjusted to see a man, perhaps a bit younger than Asterious, peering down at her.
She lay on a blanket beneath the ship’s deck, both her arms and legs bound with rope, and this Brenn fellow was positioned kneeling at her side in a simple brown tunic with a hood. She had managed to catch a quick glimpse of the golden glimmer in his pupils as the magic faded out, right before they faded back to a normal brown—a side effect of Spellbounds with diluted Light in their bloodlines. And after surveying the small group of other terrified females tethered to the ship’s walls, Caramyn was only sure of three things. This man had just used magic. She was on a ship. And they were headed for somewhere terrible.
37
One and the Same
Caramyn
“Don’t move so much,” Brenn’s raspy voice carried the sea within it, along with the slight windburn on his cheeks that gave away his profession. “You’ll hurt yourself again.”
“Who are you?” The question leapt from her lips. The man had met her gaze briefly when she’d opened her eyes, and she knew he recognized what they meant by the way he locked onto them and nodded. But he didn’t say a word about them.
“You used magic to heal me.” She tilted her head to the side, hoping to get him talking. Brenn turned away, concealing his profile beneath the hood of his tunic. “You could be killed for that,” she added.
It surprised her when he spoke. “The king’s law can do nothing to me here. His rule does not extend to the seas.”
“The queen’s law, now, technically.”
Brenn shot a puzzled expression her way, looking back at her. “Does it matter? King or queen, either way, we must hide and scrape by in whatever ways we can.”
Caramyn kept her gaze on him, unbreaking, noting his ash brown tousled hair and the facial hair that lined his stout jaw. “Tell me where this ship is headed and how I got here.”
Brenn cast his dark eyes to the wooden floor between them.
“Please. I’m not a fool.” Caramyn gestured by lifting her bound hands. “I can clearly see this isn’t meant to be a pleasure cruise. Obviously the destination is not a desirable one, wherever it may be. So why not just tell me of my fate?”
Brenn nodded, his forehead wrinkling in a worried manner. “Because if I tell you, you’ll hate me for being a part of it.”
“Well, if you’re so ashamed of it, perhaps you shouldn’t be a part of it. Have you considered that?”
Brenn lowered his voice and his eyes pleaded with her to do the same. “Have you considered that serving as a healer on the black-market trade boats is the only way I can use my gift and not die for it?”
“You’re a Spellbound healer. But you have Lightborn ancestors, yes? That’s why your eyes lit up gold for a second?”
