“Ow,” he laughs, rubbing his arm. That smile is a small thing, but something I haven’t seen him do at all today. I miss the days when his laughter wasn’t such a rarity.
“Joran seems… changed,” Alexus says. “At least a little more tender toward you. Makes me want to kill him less.”
I keep pacing and shake my head, cutting Alexus a sharp glare. “Your definition of tender is very different from mine if Joran is your example.”
Though he is a little different. Something I’ve certainly noticed. He’s still an animal, just with a different bite.
I glance toward the water. The waves are calmer tonight. Twilight shadows the clouds and bruises the sky, darkening the sea to a dusky blue. But a strange fog looms to the west, promising a storm.
Or… something.
“Do you see that?” I point toward the white haze, pearly and dense.
Alexus turns, and his long spine stiffens. “That’s not normal. But it can’t be Joran.”
Over the next hour, as we both pace the catwalk from side to side, that fog rolls in, along with a chill wind. The previously calm water begins to churn, the waves rolling higher and crashing harder.
Alexus uses a spyglass to magnify things in the distance. Its view only extends a couple hundred yards past the curve of the cove, which is already blotted out by nightfall and something resembling a contained snowstorm hovering over the sea. It’s stretching across Malgros’s shore and across the city, for as far as the eye can see. Everywhere except right here at Starworth Tor.
“Ten fucking devils.” Alexus lowers the spyglass before lifting it to his eye once more. When he lowers it a second time, disbelief masks his face as he stares at the fog.
“What is it?” I snatch the instrument and aim it in the direction Alexus was looking. It takes a few moments and a few tries, twisting the world into focus, but what he saw does become clear. A tall mast and a single square-rigged sail break through the mist. Leaning against the rail are two men, one with brown hair, the other with long silver locks I would know anywhere. I scan the dark words painted on the side of… “Oh my gods. Is that—”
“Terrowin’s motherfucking ship,” Alexus says with a smile in his voice. “The Lady Belladonna has arrived.”
Alexus and I run to the beach, passing Hel on the way as she hurries to tell Raina that the Lady Belladonna is here. And here it is. For a cog ship, it’s big and imposing and possibly visible from the city wall behind the tor.
A thousand thoughts race through my mind. Did Joran find a crew? If not, how will we man this beast? Did he think of food? This ship was set to return this morning, it can’t possibly be ready to sail again by now. What about Terrowin? How do we get past the Summerlander armada?
Gods, this journey is going to kill me.
I stand on the beach, facing the veil. I can’t bring the whole thing down, but there’s no need, I remind myself. We only need a path.
Alexus stands with me, and together we focus on the shimmering web. It’s a mind game. A temporary mental rearranging of magickal lines that form the construct, a way to create a hole in the structure without being noticed. It’s like poking a hole through a spider’s web, carefully enough that the resulting vibration across those sensitive threads cannot be felt, lest we lead every Witch Walker in Malgros straight to Starworth Tor.
But Alexus is a talent. I’ve never seen him at work with his mind. I’ve only ever been instructed by him. But with such focus that I can feel it against my skin—a tightness to the air—he alone opens the veil. In a matter of seconds. Not a single thread in the web moves. Not even the subtlest, tiniest flutter.
“You’ll need to teach me that trick one day,” I tell him.
He just gives me a wry grin. “I can’t divulge all my secrets.” He winks. “Now see to your shield, woman.”
I face the next battle. My shielding construct, a web of white light to my eyes. Quickly, I weave that web higher and thicker, imagining what I want anyone who might look in this direction to see: the white haze over a shipless sea. That’s all.
Where it took Alexus seconds, my work requires several minutes. But Harmon and the boys have already packed the boats with our belongings, so when I finish, all there is to do is say our goodbyes and row out to climb aboard. There are three boats. They each seat four.
“Heading out!” someone calls.
I’m a little dizzy from the rushed effort on the construct, so I turn carefully, my neck tight. Drae, Keth, Jaega, and Callan are already rowing into the sea. Alexus casts his starlights across the beach and over the water to guide the way.
“I’m next!” another voice calls.
Alexus and I look toward the main house. Zahira.
She jogs across the sand and drops her pack in the front of Rhonin and Hel’s boat, Alexus watching her every move with a scrutinizing and quite challenging stare.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, hands planted firmly on his hips.
The captain grabs an oar and meets his wide eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
