I don’t doubt that one bit. But I also can’t ignore how his fingers flex weakly at his sides, trembling from overexerting his talents.
“You’re scum, the both of you!”
An argument has erupted on the far-left side of the ship. Troy and Selene, still dripping with sweat and saltwater, are squaring off against the twins, Gigi and Gunther.
“Tried to feed us to that beast like we were bait!” Troy shouts, shoving Gunther in the chest.
“Better you than us,” comes Gigi’s biting reply. “Next time, we’ll make sure the beast gets its fill.”
I wince at the venom in their voices, the brutality in the way they’re looking at one another. It’s cold and cruel and ruthless, even for the tournament.
My stomach churns once more. Not only at the thought of what’s still to come, but of what we – I – might have to do to survive.
Across the deck, Cyrus stands with his back to the rail, wringing out his soaked dress shirt. Muscles flex beneath his sun-kissed skin, and tiny water droplets cascade down his bare chest. His champagne-blond hair is slicked back, with a few strands brushing his jawline.
I hate to admit it, but he looks every bit the warrior, effortlessly handsome in his dishevelled state.
Taron’s eyes are on me when I glance down. His gaze is unwavering, despite the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids. I feel an unexplained thickness at the back of my throat.
“Tired?” is all I can think to ask.
“Beyond tired,” he says, letting out a soft breath. “You?”
“I’ve definitely been better.” I suppress the urge to swallow when his eyes search mine. “But … I’m glad you’re all right.”
“I thought you were supposed to be mad at me.”
Oh, right.But how can I be, after what we’ve just been through?
“Maybe later.”
He attempts a smile, and I’m taken aback. Mostly because it suits him. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re all right, too.”
I cling to the sincerity in his words. For the first time since this chaos began, a sliver of warmth burgeons beneath the icy fear.
I momentarily let my guard down, allowing my eyes to wander. To take in the crisp symmetry and quiet strength of his features. Toreallysee him.
Taron runs a hand through his damp hair. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were staring.”
“I was thinking, actually.”
“About what?”
Before I can respond, a loud crash draws our attention back to the fray. Another team stumbles on to the deck, barely managing to stand, and a deep resonant gong echoes through the evening air.
Movement erupts below deck before a dozen figures in matching grey uniforms emerge from the shadows. The ship’s crew. Fast, nimble and eerily synchronized, they swarm the deck, moving through the competitors like liquid.
A wiry woman with silver hair darts to the helm. She extends her hand at the rigging, her fingers parted, and the ropes unravel themselves, snapping to life as they obey her silent command. The dark sails unfurl, perfectly catching the wind.
I step aside as a broad-shouldered man with tattoos running up his arms marches to the anchor. He borrows the light from a solar lantern swinging from a mast, and his palms glow as he transfers the energy to the electric winch, which immediately lifts the anchor. One of the younger crew members approaches the wheel. He runs his hand along the polished wood and, as he does, tiny seedlings sprout from the grooves, quickly growing and unfurling into vines that wrap around the wheel like a pair of hands to steer.
The Leviathangroans in response. It stirs beneath my feet, some form of engine humming to life below deck. The entire vessel shivers, and then we’re moving, slowly crawling forward across the water.
For all the churning in my stomach,The Leviathanis an amazing thing. I’ve never experienced anything like it – but, then again, I’ve never been at sea before.
