Arion has refrained from using his magic over the last few nights. Every time he sleeps, he gets a little stronger. I’d almost believe he wasn’t dying at all, but he’s stopped masking his pain, and even now I taste his death—ourdeath—on my tongue. The veins in his skin have blackened all the way to his calves, which I see nightly when we disrobe and lie side by side in the private chamber Amaya gifted us. Mostly, we sleep. Sometimes, we fuck. Always, he holds me. He tells me everything is going to be all right.
“You believe that?” I ask him skeptically now. Under the first rays of dawn, with the trench churning beneath us, I don’t feel safe anymore. I feel as if I’m about to make another huge mistake. One from which I’ll never be able to recover.
“I do.” He tips my chin up. “Do you trust me, mermaid?”
The answer immediately dries on my tongue. Yes.Yes, I trust him—but I shouldn’t. I should have learned my lesson. I should have learned to never trust anyone ever again. He stares at me, and the cord pulses with my honesty even though I don’t speak it. He nods once in understanding. “I’m going to get us out of here. Alive.”
“And then?” I ask.
That’s our new favorite game to play. In the dark, we make up wholly unrealistic scenarios for our future. Each more unbelievable than the last. But this one, it’s the worst yet.
“And then we take the heart, we kill the sorcerer, and we leave,” Arion says, voice low and hard. “We go wherever you want, Zephyra. On land. In the sea. Everything else… they’re just details to figure out later. They don’t matter.”
But they do.
If we manage to trick and kill the sorcerer, our lives will unfold like an endless roll of blank parchment that neither of us are prepared to fill in.
Arion would never survive the Syl, my home. They’d strip him of his wings almost as quickly as they’d tear out his heart. And I could never return to Mortia. So where does that leave us?Whatdoes that leave us? I am still a mermaid. He is still a warlock.
There is no future for us.
Arion must know it too. His gaze darkens. “Trust me, Zephyra,” he repeats, sharper than before. As if he can convince himself, can convince destiny or the gods or whoever the fuck has been making our lives so miserable, through words alone. I don’t have the heart to tell him it won’t work.
So I take his hand, and I allow him to lead me back to the plank.
“Hold tight,” Amaya orders. “Hold fast.”
Her crew—armored in the same silver as Arion and me—hurries to grab on to the surrounding riggings. They pull at the ropes. Clutch on to the edge of the anchor’s wheel. Arion simply pulls me to him, holding me against his side with an arm thrown around my waist. “I’ve got you,” he says.
Amaya guides us down with a harsh wind that jostles every crew member as the ship finally settles on top of still waters. I hear Gavriall curse distantly, but I keep my eyes fixed on the sea. I’m still waiting forhimto appear. I’m still waiting to hear his laugh, still waiting for him to condemn us all.
“Ready?” Arion asks.
“No,” I say.
He releases me anyway, and Vesper moves to join us. Her hair falls flat around her shoulders. There isn’t a hint of wind left to rustle her silver locks, not a stroke of gentle breeze or the violent whipping of riotous squalls.
“So,” Gavriall says, popping up beside Vesper and startling her enough that she nearly trips over her feet and off the plank. He looks extremely satisfied at that. “You’ll just be… draining the entire ocean now?”
“Yes, Gavriall,” I deadpan. “I’m going to drain the entire ocean in the span of a few seconds.”
Vesper whacks Gavriall upside his head. “She’s being sarcastic, you twat.”
He hisses, rubbing the back of his skull and sliding away from her. “Yes. I understood that.” His brown gaze seeks mine. “How does this work?”
“I need to rub my hands together, sing a prayer to the goddess,and piss in the ocean six times. Six, Gavriall. Not seven. Not five.Six.Got it?” I throw him a glare over my shoulder.
He glances between me and Arion and Vesper. “This would also be sarcasm?”
“This would be me telling you to shut the fuck up so I can concentrate.”
“You’re prickly,” Vesper says. When I turn my glare on her, she raises her hands. “I didn’t say I hate it. This might be my favorite version of you.”
I grind my teeth.
They don’t understand. My stomach knots as if sea serpents laid eggs inside it and those eggs just hatched. A dozen little snakes coiling around my organs and nerves and fears, smothering everything in me until I am trembling and sick. Arion has been a distraction. A gorgeous, devastating distraction. But it wasn’t enough to actually erase my memories. Nor was it enough to scramble my basest fears. I’m fuckingpetrified.
All the while, anticipation slices through the rest of the ship. Amaya’s hunger at being so close to such a gargantuan discovery, Gavriall’s lust for something that might buy his way out of Tower Historia, Vesper’s need to resurrect her sister, and Arion’s desperation for the heart. They all think they’re headed toward something big. They all anticipate success and glory.
