My heart lurches. I take a deep breath, and when we’re far away enough, Odgar throws an anchor tied to a chain overboard.We sit there, the boat bobbing up and down in the serene waves. At least the ocean seems fairly calm tonight.
“Alright, raven warrior. Do your worst. Or your best.”
“I … don’t know what to do?”
He gestures with a grand sweep of his arm, and I huff a sigh at him. “Just blast fire out there …”
I frown but scoot toward the front of the boat, awkwardly fixing my skirt around me, bracing my feet against the bottom. I extend my hands, but nothing happens. Then again, and again, with still nothing. Even though the magic bubbles beneath my skin.
“It’s probably just performance anxiety,” says Odgar. “Maybe you need to stand up.”
“And fall in?” My voice is shrilly, panicked.
Odgar chuckles. “I won’t let you.”
“You are awfully cocky, you know that?”
He sidles closer with a mischievous smirk. “Cocky, eh?”
I slap the back of my hand against his arm.
In turn, he waves his hand over my head. What in hells is he—? But cold water splashes over me before I can finish the thought, drenching my hair and my dress.
I gasp, my muscles seizing up. “What the fuck, Odgar?” I shout, clearing wet strands of hair from my eyes and blinking the water from my lashes.
His resonant laughter is truly irritating. Immediately, sparks rise in my palms, drying them. I turn my glower to Odgar.
“You’re welcome,” he says with a shrug, and I mumble more swearwords than perhaps are necessary.
I hold on to his muscular shoulder and get to my feet, water dripping from my hair. “You’re fortunate that worked,” I grumble.
Grinning, he sidles closer and wraps his hands around the place just above my knees to hold me steady.
I ignore the tiniest jolt of lightning from his touch and the warmth gathering in my belly. Drawing in a breath, I focus on the energy growing in my hands. With an exhalation, I push my hands forward, propelling a stream of fire out into the ocean.
Shades of radiant orange dance over the dark water, an oddly soothing sight, turning the night air balmy and my skin slick with sweat. When my magic stops pulsing like an erratic heartbeat and my muscles begin to tire, I stop and plop back down into the boat.
Odgar stares at me in awe as I take steady breaths.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Better.”
“Good.”
As I stare across the water, bright flames flare to life on the surface. I startle, but when I blink, there’s nothing there. Still, I can smell the acrid smoke and feel the singe of heat—I can see the bushes beneath Paramount burning all around me. My hands begin to shake, and I clasp them together. The pent-up magic may be soothed for now, but the memories will never be.
“Are you alright?” Odgar asks, something heavy and warm settling around my shoulders. His cloak.
I exhale shakily. “No.” Closing my eyes, I search for balance within myself. “I told you that everyone thinks I’m dead, but I never truly explained …” When I look to Odgar again, his head is tilted slightly, his eyes intent.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I blow out a loud breath through my lips and shake out my arms, the mere memory tensing my muscles. I pin my gaze on the dark water as I tell Odgar my story. “My royal advisor Iywan, Briony, and one of my servants, Eefa, had been working with the Zenith. When they discovered that I could read ancient texts, they held me captive in hopes of getting me totell them about the prophecy. I don’t even know how long they tortured me for, but?—”
I pause to breathe through the panic hurtling toward me. Odgar’s hand on my back steadies me, comforts me. “Eefa took pleasure in every cut, every sordid word about me. She stuck her dagger into me, over and over. Until I didn’t think I could take it anymore. Until I wanted to die. But Briony kept healing me.”
The words pour out of me like wine from a broken cask. I bite my lip, wanting to hold back the words, but they just keep flowing. I tell Odgar how Briony turned against the Zenith, and how she and Angharad arranged my fake death. I let myself relive the fear of drowning, of my own powers burning through me, of the difficult recovery.
