“And what, exactly, areyouplanning to do?” he demands.
I don’t answer, peering, instead, to the streaks of sunlight beginning to peek over the horizon. Though it is easier not to look at him, it feels like an inexplicable betrayal.
My silence serves as answer enough. “It seems likeyou’rethe one that needs to be knocked over the head with a shovel,” he mutters, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.
I throw a hand on my hip, leveling him with a stone stare. “You don’t think I’m more powerful than some overgrown teenager with a god complex?”
“Willa—”
“It’s my fault, Tiernan!” To his credit, Tiernan doesn’t flinch, even as the rest of my guilt pours from me in a jumbled rush. “I’m the reason the Aeternalis is alive again. If I wasn’t so selfish, or so—socareless—these children would all be safe in their beds. And I’ll be damned if I go hide in a castle and pretend it isn’t happening.”
As soon as I speak it, the shadow in my chest dissipates and I feel more myself than I have in months. Not the person who cowered on the fringes of society for centuries in order to survive, but thetrueWilla. The Willa I’d glimpsed for those few precious moments in time when I’d been brave enough to love fiercely and be loved in return.
And despite everything, my kingdom was the catalyst for it all. Letum cracked me open and made me bleed and gave me a reason to fight. It reminded me of the beauty that exists in the pain, and it ismine.
“I’m going to fix what I’ve broken.” I take a leveling breath. “I’m going to board the ship.”
Tiernan’s eyes bulge. “And then what?” he demands. “Are you going to invite him to sit down to tea and ask him politely to leave? This is theEverlasting,Willie! If you go to him…there is no guarantee you’ll come back out.”
He spins to Sam imploringly. Sam watches me with a thoughtful gaze, his magic thick between us like swathes of down blankets. After a long moment, he says, “Death has returned to the island, Tiernan. Willa is the only one it cannot touch.”
The sentiment scrapes against my spine, and I nearly squeeze my eyes shut to keep from drowning in the memories of when deathhadtouched me.
“There are worse things than death, Sam,” Tiernan replies fiercely. “It’s one of the first lessons you learn as a Strayed. If he gets you under his control, Willie…the kingdom will be lost.”
I give him a small smile. “When has anyone ever been able to make me do anything I don’t want to do?”
Tiernan opens his mouth as if to argue, but after a moment, he closes it tightly and nods. And I love him for it—for wanting to protect me, while knowing me well enough to understand why I cannot accept his protection.
“Remember, Willa…there is always a cost,” Sam says gravely. “Get out of there before it demands something of you that you can’t give.”
My skin prickles. Sam is referring to when I brought Niko back from the dead—when I pushed the universe to give back what it stole from me. When his heart began to beat once more, I knew I’d givensomethingup, even if I couldn’t name what it was.Though Sam doesn’t know what happened to me in the Hollows, I wonder if he’s beginning to suspect the true cost of my actions. Not the Aeternalis coming back to life, but my own horrors awakening.
“I’ll be careful.” For an absurd moment, I feel like hugging them both—like burying my head in their safety and forgetting the rest of the world exists. But I don’t know how to cross the space between us, nor how to express what their faith has meant to me the past few months.
Tiernan pulls me into a hug, the rhythm of his heartbeat steadying my own. Sam gives me an unwavering smile like this isn’t goodbye at all; like he has faith in me making it out.
Wrapped between them, I close my eyes and paint the serpentine curves of the Indomnitus. And when I open them again, I find myself atop the shining decks of the Indomnitus, a soft sea breeze tousling my hair and a pair of inhuman green eyes watching me.
***
The ship is quiet. Waves slap rhythmically against the hull, the dark water expanding toward the horizon like a spill of violet paint under the pink sky. Streaks of sunshine cast the curves of ship in odd slashes of light and shadows, the detailed black wood glinting like polished obsidian. I curl my toes in my shoes, and for a brief moment, the world is both hushed and electric—like stepping into the Crocodile where time moves like an erratic river, stalling in places and rushing forward in others.
The winter wind blows my hair in wild tendrils around my face, and my heart beats somewhere near my throat as memories of the last time I stood on this deck inundate me.
I would do it all over again.
Niko’s promise no longer feels like a prayer; only a cruel taunt.
“You’re late,” Pan says from beside me, his cheery tone contrasting with the harrowed screams that sound from theshore. “I’ve been waiting for ages, and I do hate waiting, cousin. A waste of our eternity, don’t you think? Our time would be far better spent on adventures.”
I bury all thoughts of Niko deep beneath the protection of my rage. The Aeternalis has already stolen enough of him—I won’t let him touch my memories. Turning, I run my fingers over my gladius, the familiarity of the hilt enough to steel my nerves.
Pan looks much the same as he did on the beach, dressed only in a rumpled pair of emerald green trousers. Various leather belts cross his bare chest, hung with an impressive assortment of weapons. His golden hair glows in the morning rays, his green eyes bright and mischievous as they drink me in. There is no sign of his vicious shadow, even as the sun climbs higher in the sky. The absence is nearly as unsettling as its presence, a stark reminder of the Everlasting’s inhumanity.
“You could have just sent a letter like a normal person,” I reply, running a cold gaze over him, “or I don’t know…hired a messenger? I know you’ve been dead for centuries and probably don’t understand social norms, but this whole thing…” My gaze roves distastefully over the ship, the children fighting their way toward him on shore, and those still in the water. “…reeks of desperation, Peter.” I wrinkle my nose, enjoying the flash of rage it elicits in his eyes. “Besides, grand gestures aren’t really my thing.”
“Perhaps that’s because you’ve never been given one that felt like you.” Pan tilts his head, and I shift uncomfortably beneath the odd fervor of his gaze.
