Then Zephyra pivots. She sags against the barrel. And she looks at me.
Her gaze crashes into mine, her hand instinctively tangling with the cord. She exhales low, as if she’s been holding her breath since they stole us from the ocean. “I couldn’t feel you,” she says simply. Softly. “It was like you were—”
“Gone,” I finish for her. “It’s fine now. It’s okay.” My bones ache to close the distance between us, to feel her in my arms again. And that’s ridiculous. I know it is. I didn’t miss her. I was simply worried about dying. But I still can’t stop staring at her.
The last time I saw her—really, truly saw her—was in that cavern. The last time I heard her was breathy whimpers and whispered pleas. And then I left. I left her, and Vesper came, and then Amaya, and now…
I don’t know where that leaves us. I don’t know how to act.
I wonder if she can read my mind, or maybe she can just see the uncertainty written plainly on my face, because she grins. A cocky, snarky little grin. Even though her gaze remains soft and concerned. Even though her breaths remain shallow and unsure. As if she’s doing us both a favor and allowing us a reprieve from the misery of our bond. “Yourmermaid, was it? Glad to know I was missed.”
Vesper groans. Gavriall does too.
“You two are insufferable,” Gavriall says. “All I do around you is—”
The skull happily chitters—“Die, die, die”—from where she rolled on the floor, and Gavriall glowers. “Exactly.” He smooths back his hair into a knot at the base of his neck, a roguish lock falling much too expertly over his left eye. He licks his fingers and strategically smooths the lock to a fine point, his gaze fixed on Vesper. “So what now? We trust the siren to help us?”
Vesper’s dark gaze narrows on his face. “Would you prefer I fillet you?” She glances down at his shredded sleeve. “I’ll be quick about it.”
He forces his sleeves up past his elbows. “Will you? Because so far all you’ve managed is to enthrall the captain and a single guard. Meanwhile, there is an entire ship of others—”
“Asingle guard?” Vesper’s song pervades, an eerie echo even as she speaks, but it doesn’t burrow into my ears as it did before. It sounds weaker. Softer. Perhaps because we are no longer in the sea. Or perhaps because she isn’t aiming it at me. Either way, she continues singing as she stalks over to the thick wall of fog where she rips out two, three,fourmore guards. They tumble one after the next, each bludgeoned by a variety of melons.
I arch a brow at the sight. “Even with five guards knocked out, we need a plan. We are on Amaya’s ship. We are surrounded by Tempest soldiers, and we’re soaring in the gods-damned clouds. Unless Vesper can mind-control the entire legion into dropping us back off at sea, we can’t possibly escape unscathed.”
Vesper glares daggers at me now. “I can’t mind-control an entire ship, warlock. So why don’t you try helping? Doesn’t King Constane suckle at your all-powerful breast?”
“I witnessed three sirens mutilate their way through an entire palace.”
“And thank goddess for them,” Vesper snaps without any arrogance at all, “but I’m not a trained warrior, and my powers aren’t quite so capable.”
Zephyra slides between Vesper and me. “Okay, okay. Arguing isn’t going to help us escape.” To me, she says, “Vesper and I were plotting to break out of the brig, but she wasn’t sure how muchof her song she would be able to use and my powers—aecorian powers—are void unless I’ve touched the sea.
“Then the first guard stepped out from that wall of fog, and… well, we didn’t have much of a choice. Vesper started singing, and it lured more than just one guard toward us. After they unlocked our cells and opened our doors, we decided it was best to incapacitate them and hide. We weren’t certain how many enemies would be waiting for us.”
“So,” Gavriall asks, “we are workingwiththe murderous siren now?”
Zephyra nods. “For the time being.”
Gavriall eyes Vesper warily, absentmindedly rubbing the cut on his throat. “I don’t trust her.”
Vesper chomps her teeth in his direction, and he flinches.
Zephyra ignores them both and turns to face me. Her hair tangles around her arms, disheveled, and her turquoise eyes have narrowed with exhaustion. Bruises cover her scars now, shade them in purple and black. Not only that, but my shirt seems to have been scorched—charred in thick, vertical lines as if she’s been recently burned.Why didn’t I feel it?I should ask her that. I should ask her why Vesper isn’t trying to kill her anymore, who Vesper even is, why she came after us. I should ask her about the plan, how to proceed, but all that comes out is, “Are you okay?”
She blinks at me. Her brow furrows, the smallest scrunch, as if she’s actually processing the question and doesn’t know how to respond. “Honestly? I—I don’t think I am. This entire past week has been shit, and now we’re trapped on a Tempest ship with…” She glances back at Amaya. “Who even is she?”
“Princess Amaya Frost,” I hasten to say, voice rougher, terser, than I intend. “Stormborn seventeenth daughter of Tempestas. She offered us an agreement before you attacked her. If she brought us to you, we would tell her about the heart. She isn’t going to kill us. She’s treasure hunting.”
“Is that true?” Vesper asks, poking into our conversation as she steps into view. Gavriall inches away from her.
“Yes,” I say.
Right as Zephyra says, “No fucking way.” She plants a hand on her hip and shakes her head. “You really think the princess of Tempest dragged us onto a ship of soldiers to bargain for treasure?”
“I do,” Gavriall offers.
Zephyra huffs, blowing a tendril of pink away from her face. “I wasn’t asking you, historian.”
