It comes—hesitant, flickering. But when it touches him, it… falters. Like something inside him pushes back. Like whatever the seer put inside him is resisting my magic.
I recoil slightly, heart hammering. “It’s not working,” I whisper.
Aila enters quietly, her hair damp with sea spray, a wet cloth in her hand. “Here,” she murmurs, passing it to me. “We’ll keep his fever down for now. Your uncle wants to speak with you.”
I glance down at Dante, then to Aila. “Will you stay with him?”
She nods. “Of course.”
I rise on shaking legs and make my way back above deck.
The cold hits me again as soon as I push open the hatch. Snow still falls, soft now, a lazy drift over the ocean. The sails crack mechanically overhead, and the moon throws a path of silver across the waves.
My uncle leans against the railing near the prow, his cloak drawntightly around his shoulders. His eyes are fixed on the horizon.
I smooth out the skirt of my dress. The dress Torbin made me wear. A macabre wedding dress. My mind spins with how much has happened since he tried to make me his bride.
“You wanted to speak with me?” I ask, approaching.
He turns slowly, his expression unreadable. “I thought I should let you know what was happening. We’re headed to Alphemra.”
I blink. “Alphemra? Why?”
“We’re about a week out. If the weather holds.”
“But why?” I ask again, wondering why he’s avoiding my question. “I thought we were going back to Delasurvia.”
“We can’t,” he says, gently but firmly. “King Silas took your disappearance as a betrayal. He’s trying to take Delasurvia as a result of you breaking the agreement.”
“But I didn’t—” I shake my head, knowing it doesn’t make sense to state my case to my uncle. It’s not he who made the decision. “If he’s trying to take our land, then that’s even more reason to go back there. To fight. To defend what’s ours.”
“I know, but we can’t do that yet. My troops will hold our defenses until we can join them. But first, we need to understand what’s happening with your magic. And we need to ask them for help.” His eyes meet mine.
I hesitate. “There’s more you don’t know.”
He waits, silent.
“I saw something in the fortress,” I say slowly, forcing the words out. “In the lower levels. Something massive. Something the tsar is hiding.”
He frowns. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know what I think,” I admit. “But he’s created creatures to do his bidding. I can only imagine what something that size will do.” I don’t mention Nadya’s theory that it could be a dragon. Mostly because I don’t want to believe it myself. “And the seer. Dante called her ‘Mother.’”
His eyes narrow. “You’re sure?”
“I saw his face,” I say. “He called her ‘Mother.’ And shedidn’t deny it.”
“Then there may be more at play here than we realize,” my uncle mutters.
I glance back toward the hatch, where Dante lies below. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Alphemra may have the answers we need.”
I nod slowly, the sea wind lashing at my cheeks. “I hope so.”
Because if we’re wrong—if whatever the seer did to him can’t be undone—then I haven’t saved Dante.
I’ve already lost him.
