We’d reached the edge of the harbor. Once the sails caught wind, we’d coast past Tempest’s court located on the Isle of Lydel, then stretch forward into open sea. I’d heard it could take almost a week to reach the shore of the continent beyond, though no one I’d met had traveled that far.
Fae couldn’t flit there. Something about our magic being different from that of those living in the land I’d only recently learned existed. This could create a problem. While I was far from proficient with my magic—outside my dubious flaming lightning—I’d be vulnerable if I couldn’t draw up power and learn to use it in other ways. I doubted Lore would be watching out for me, not if he had duties he must carry out for King Merrick.
I’d figure this out. I had to figure it out. There was no way I was going to rely solely on the blades strapped to my sides and finger lightning. Not against wicked fae who could wield equally wicked power.
Another fish flopped onto the deck. It scrambled across the wood, its jaws snapping as it chased after a sailor. With a cackle, the lean fae man leaped over the fish, landing squarely behind it. He hefted it by its tail and swung it toward the closest windram, who snatched it from the air and gobbled it down in one bite.
The other fish must’ve caught on to the realization that they were about to become fodder, because no others joined the first on the deck.
Still chuckling, the sailor got back to work.
The windrams’ seams split wide, opening to gaping maws, and they sucked in air, their bodies expanding to nearly twice their size. Their sides plunged inward. Air whooshed out, generating enough to knock me back a few steps and make the nyxin whimper.
Grinning, I spun, watching as the sails scooped up the blast and used it. The ship picked up speed, skimming along the water, turning right to loop around Lydel and reach the open sea.
The door in the cabin opened, and I girded myself for Lore. I’d mock his sneer. Tell him he had no power over me.
Or ignore him.
Instead, a man wearing a dark red tunic with a silver braid along the shoulders and, unbelievably enough, ruffles at the ends of his sleeves and collar strode past working sailors and over to me. He tugged on the hem of his tunic before dipping his head down in a deep bow, making his thick, shoulder-length light brown hair flop across his ruddy face.
“My lady?” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m LordBriscalar. Allow me to also state that it’s truly a delight to meet you. I was sent by the king himself to attend to your needs.”
“I see.” Why not a woman? There was no way I was going to ask Lord Briscalar to do much more than fetch food or draw me a bath.
He peered around me. “Where’s your entourage?”
“I don’t need one.”
A frown flitted across his face before he smoothed it. “Very well. Your bags, then? I’ll be delighted to take care of your belongings.”
“I handle my belongings.” The last thing I needed was a stranger pawing through my stuff.
“I see.” Disapproval warred with distress on his face before he tightened it once more. “Will you permit me to carry your bags for you then?”
“I can take care of those, too.”
“You will be queen.” His lips pressed tightly together. “Queens do not carry their own luggage.”
“This one does.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please, my lady. This is my job.”
I didn’t need to win all the battles, now did I? “Very well.”
His sigh leaked from his lungs. After lifting my only pack with pinched fingers, he held it out and gave it a pert nod. When he released it, it hovered at his side.
More magic I wanted to learn. “How did you do that? What’s the spell?”
His brow twisted inward. “Spell?”
“Yes, you must’ve cast a spell to keep my bag in the air.Could you share it with me?” I lifted the still placid nyxin, who watched everything with his pointy ears flickering back and forth and his nose twitching, and tossed the lord a bright smile. “My magic is . . .”
How could I politely state this? From the moment I was born, my life had been in danger. I’d grown up an orphan in a border fortress where it was common for us to ride dragons into battle in the defense of local villagers. Each day could be my last. Leaving the fortress for faerie after Kinart was killed, I’d been tossed into an even more tenuous situation with a king determined to drain whatever power I had and leave nothing behind but a mindless shell. I hadn’t known I could summon magic until a few months ago.
Lord Briscalar’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “Your magic is . . .”
“Tricky.”
