And seeing Malkin again had ripped his wounds right back open.
Caylus’s hand fell over mine, and only then did I realized I’d curled it into a fist. “I just—” The words caught in his throat. “I just need some time to think.”
I felt myself nodding, and though I knew he wanted time alone, I couldn’t quite make myself leave. It felt like abandoning him.
“I’m here for you if you need me,” I said.
“I know.” He smiled, and it settled the unease inside me. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he really did just need some time to process everything. But as I stood to go, crossing the short gap from bed to door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance opening between us might never be closed again.
Five
We returned to the ship with plans for Jenara to meet us the next morning. Kiva, Res, and I ate dinner with the rest of the crew in the mess hall as we did every night, but Caylus stayed locked in his room, and I reluctantly let him be.
Like every night before, as the conversation dwindled and people reclined in their benches, full of hearty stew and thick, warm bread, someone stood to tell a story.
Myths and legends were the kingdom’s domain, and I’d heard many of the tales the sailors told before, famous as they were among the nearby kingdoms.
The storyteller was an older woman, threads of gray lining her wheat-colored hair and laugh lines framing her kind green eyes. I recognized her as the ship’s cook, Darya. She held a pint of ale in one hand, the other held up for silence, which was quickly given.
“Any requests?” she asked, her voice strong but soft.
I leaned forward. “Do you know any stories about the Sellas?” I asked, ignoring Kiva’s incredulous look. There was no harm in investigating what Ericen had said. “Real ones, not the fairy tales in the books.”
Darya laughed. “Who says because they are fairy tales they are not real?” The question prickled at the back of my neck. “True enough, there’s little history of the Sellas left behind. No books that are more than stories, few artifacts that have not crumbled into dust. In many places, they’ve been all but forgotten, almost as though someone erased every mention, every memory, until they faded into obscurity. And yet we all agree they were here once. They did exist.”
Behind me, someone made a low humming sound of excitement, and I realized the story had already begun. With Kiva on one side of me and Res on the other, I settled back to listen.
“So what happened?” Darya asked. “Once, people worshipped the Sellas like gods. We paid homage to them for their protection from the land’s wild magic, for gifts of power beyond our belief, and for the benevolence with which they let us live freely. Or at least, so one story goes.”
As she spoke, Darya wound her way through the mess hall, the slow rock of her voice hypnotizing every gaze. It wrapped me up like a wool blanket, carrying me away in the story.
“Others say the Sellas were hungry and cruel, saturated with power and with nowhere to use it but on weak, powerless humans. They extorted us for their protection at the same time as they tormented us.”
She paused in the center of the room. “War broke out between humans and Sella, led by the crows of Rhodaire, and we proved far more capable than our gods expected. An unsteady truce was reached.
“Now,” she said quietly, her voice taking on a curious edge, “what came next is up for some debate. Some say the Sellas, their pride wounded from defeat, sought to destroy the humans who had bested them. Others say the Rhodairen riders intended to ensure they’d never face a Sella threat again. But they all agree that in the end, the kingdoms banded together and slaughtered the Sellas.”
A strange unease cut through me. There was an uncomfortable parallel between her story and the future I hurtled toward. An alliance forged in the face of an unbeatable foe and the promise of blood to be spilled.
“When the Sellas died,” Darya continued, “the magic died with them. It retreated from the land, as did all the creatures it’d once sustained, from the aizel to the South Sea serpents. But it hit Sellador worst of all, turning the land to dust and desert. And so the Eastern Wastelands were born, their border now guarded by remnants of long-ago magic.”
Silence settled in the wake of her words, as if everyone feared to break the spell she’d woven. Across the room, Onis watched me with bright, almost feverish eyes, a talisman clasped in his hands.
I leaned forward, startling Res awake with a flutter of feathers and shattering the trance. “How can we be sure they’re all dead?” I asked, and a chorus of chuckles sounded back that I ignored. “What if some of them survived?”
Darya smiled sharply. “Perhaps they did. Perhaps they’ve been lying in wait to get revenge on the humans who turned against them. Or then again, perhaps this is all just another fairy tale.”
* * *
I lay staring up at the bunk above me, where Kiva’s snores emanated in waves. I couldn’t put my mind to rest.
It was full of Darya’s story, Caylus’s pain, and Res’s strange magic. And it was full of the look in Ericen’s eyes. The guilt, the determination, the battle between the two as fluctuating as the sea.
Giving up on sleep, I rolled out of bed and wrapped a cloak about myself. Res slept soundly in a pile of blankets as I emerged into the hall and climbed the stairs to the main deck. The chill night air cooled my hot skin, each breath laced with the briny scent of the sea. The waxing moon hung heavy in the cloudless sky, bathing the deck in silver light and illuminating a figure near the bowsprit.
I recognized the wiry build and stiff posture of the ship’s captain and joined Samra wordlessly, staring out at the black waters of the open ocean. For a while, the only sound came from the snap of the sails and the break of water against the hull.
We’d hardly spoken since Kiva and I had abandoned her on the rooftop. It struck me that in my attempts not to be ordered about by her, I’d blatantly shoved aside her own concerns about being seen working with me, something that put her family in danger. I’d been so concerned with being a leader that I’d forgotten one of the most important parts of leadership was listening to those around me.
