“Yes.” He lifts our hands and sweeps his lips over my knuckles. A warlock.Mywarlock. “I’ll be there. Right beside you. Whatever you need, Zephyra,” he vows roughly, “I’ll do it. Be it.”
“Okay, warlock,” I say, and then I take a deep breath. “Okay.”
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel quite so afraid.
For the first time in a long time, I am not alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ZEPHYRA
Lightning glints in the fine sheen of rainwater coating everything above deck—everything except the map. Amaya has unrolled it on a table bolted to the floorboards, and the wind snatches at each corner, threatening to send it spiraling into the storm clouds. She holds it down as the wind tears at our faces too. Our new clothing—loose bodices, looser skirts, and tight vests for Vesper and me—billow just as violently. I push damp hair behind my ears and join Arion as he leans over to examine the blue-ink sketches of an empty Syl. The deck still feels unsteady, the ship rolling forward on Amaya’s wicked currents, churning my stomach into another sickening maelstrom. But I curl my hands into fists and breathe through it.
Just keep breathing, Arion said before we came up here. So I do. I try.
Gavriall shoulders into place beside me, bracing against the tilt of the vessel. He juts a finger toward the center of the map. “Here?”
I grab his hand, shifting it an inch right. “Here.”
The map is slick with spray, and the ink nearly runs—but it’s enough. Enough to plan. Around the table stands our strange, hostile crew. Vesper glowers at me, as does Amaya, while Gavriall exchanges sour expressions with the skull perched on the table’s edge. Amaya’s first mate, Felix, watches Vesper like a hawk, andArion ignores everyone who isn’t me. The faster we figure this out, the better. For everyone’s safety.
“The High Sorcerer of the Four Seas resides in an adamant castle at the bottom of the Sceleratus Trench,” I tell them, more uncertain than I’ve ever been. I keep my eyes fixed on Arion’s, searching for strength in his metallic depths. He doesn’t so much as blink, and his presence warms me through the bond. The silvered cord tangles around our waists, invisible to the others but not to us.Just keep breathing.“His castle is the one the skull mentioned. The one Vasiliev discovered.”
“Then this castle… is Abysses, and the heart is his?” Felix asks, his voice the monotone scrape of shells against rock. He runs a pale hand through short sandy hair and looks to his captain—his princess—for an answer. But he won’t find one there.
“No.” I shake my head to disguise my trembling lips. “The castle is too small to be the whole of a utopia.”
“And the sorcerer’s magical abilities seem limited,” Arion says, saving me from having to explain on my own. “He can’t leave the waters. Can’t tread on land like other merrow. Zephyra said”—he continues staring at me, even while he speaks to everyone else—“his powers lie in the bargains he makes. As if he exchanges souls for magic. He doesn’t have anywhere near the unlimited power of a god, and if he knew he was sitting on divine potential, he would have claimed it by now.”
“Arion’s right.” I brace my hands on the table and stare at the dead center of the map. At the Syl. The deepest part of the ocean and the worst part of my past. “The sorcerer is not a merman who would ignore that sort of power. Abysses must be connected to his castle. Or hidden, perhaps. Out of plain sight. There is—there is always a chance he knows of the heart, but he would have stolen it by now if it was a possibility. Which leaves me to believe it won’t be anywhere obviousoreasy to find.” A lump rises in my throat with every word, and the truth—it hurts. Like knives carving my tongue. I’ve spent so long avoiding this. Repressing every single memory. I’ve never spoken aloud about any of it.
Until today.
Arion reaches across the table, still ignoring every other person here, and grabs my hand while his wings beat a steady breeze around us. Calmer than that of the sky and Amaya’s storms. Instantly, it soothes me. Something warm and pure imbues our bond, the cord. It’s not romantic either. Regardless of Arion claiming otherwise, it feels as if I finally have a friend.
It feelssafe.
Gavriall ducks awkwardly beneath Arion’s outstretched arm, away from his wings, and moves to the other side of the table, where Vesper glares between the warlock and me. “So…” the historian begins, staring at our interlocked hands. Arion’s gaze shifts to Gavriall’s, just for a second, but with enough threat in his silver-gold irises to make Gavriall tug uncomfortably at his collar. Arion moves closer to me, and the heat roiling from him in imperceptible waves of dangerous electricity seems to silence anyone else who might question why a warlock is touching a mermaid in such a caring way. One of his wings wraps around my shoulder. I lean into the touch before inhaling again. This time, it’s easier.
“How will we find Abysses, then?” Felix asks, avoiding Arion’s gaze altogether. “If the discovery wasn’t a discovery at all—”
“Blasphemer! Blasphemer! Granddaughter, strike him dead. Whack him in his fat head. I discovered what was uncovered. Ancient stone. Ancient ruin. You know not what you speak,” the skull chitters, so violently that she bounds toward Felix—and unfortunately pitches when the ship turns on a sharp current of air. Right into Gavriall’s chest. He shrieks and leaps backward, only for Vesper to stick out her foot and trip him. He and the skull crash to the deck in unison.
Rolling her eyes, Amaya prowls forward, but she only picks up the cursed skull and sets her back atop the table before turning to me. In the shadows of the storm, the purple limning her eyes seems darker. As if she hasn’t slept in weeks. “Why should we believe you, mermaid? We have never heard tales of a sea sorcerer before, let alone an underwater castle of horrors.”
“For the same reason none of us have uncovered Abysses. The sorcerer lives in a part of the ocean we can’t access on our own. He’s amerrowlegend.” Arion’s voice lowers and his hand hardens againstmine. “Those who fall prey to him don’t typically escape. We’re lucky Zephyra did.”
Every eye flicks to me once more. They freeze on my face. Incredulous stares. Angry glares. I can’t handle the attention, the curiosity, so I look at the map until my gaze burns.Just keep breathing.Even Arion’s firm grip can’t steady the pounding in my head. In my chest. “Look,” I say slowly. “I know you’d rather fillet me than take my advice on this. But… I know the sorcerer’s castle. I was in that trench for years.” I glance up nervously, leaning against Arion for support. It’s Vesper who holds my gaze first. Whose eyes narrow on my face as an unreadable emotion flickers through them. “I’ve been haunted in its halls. I’ve hidden in every inch of its labyrinth, but even so… it’s ancient, and odd, and unlike anything I’ve experienced on land or in the sea. There were…” My voice trails as I draw another shuddering breath at the memories, then square my shoulders. “Thereareworse horrors down there than the Fathoms. Infiltrating it won’t be easy. In fact”—abruptly, I pull my hand from Arion, whose eyes narrow slightly—“it’s basically impossible.”And I’m running straight toward him now.An echo of the sorcerer’s dark laugh plays on a loop in my mind, digging claws deep into my skull. I lift my chin anyway.
Leveling my gaze first at Arion, then Vesper, then Felix, Gavriall, and finally Amaya, I say, “If you want to find Abysses—if we want to find the heart—we have to go through the High Sorcerer.”
Gavriall frowns at that. “What do you mean?”
“I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one.” Amaya stabs a knife through blue-ink waves. “She means we’ll have to lure this sorcerer away before we can ransack his castle.”
“Good luck with that,” Vesper says scathingly. “He never leaves.”
Though my stomach plummets, I keep my expression neutral. Impassive. Her harsh stare is a reminder that she isn’t with us. She’s against us, and she always has been. She still plans to round us up at the first opportunity, delivering us—delivering me—to my worst nightmare. And of course she does. Just like us, she has no other choice. Amaya arches a brow at Vesper’s hostility, snapping her fingers, and two of her soldiers respond instantly. They come to stand behind Vesper on either side, resting casual hands on their swords.
