Of course, none of that prevents me from swallowing my pride and locking eyes with Orsa to ask her a question. “In all of Ezora’s experimenting with dark magic—that’s right,” I say as she frowns at me, “I’ve heard about that. Anyway, in all your experimenting, have you ever figured out a way to rid an object of a spirit trapped inside it?”
Orsa continues to stare me down for a moment before nodding curtly. “I’ll let Commander Ilyra explain. She’s the only one among us to have done so.”
The commander nimbly crosses between our ships, coming to stand beside her leader. When Orsa nods, Ilyra looks between me, Jax, and Simeon and says, “Pay attention. What you speak of is possible, but challenging at best. It’s going to take hours, and it’s going to bring you what may well be the worst pain of your life.”
We listen in silence as Ilyra explains the process of drawing a spirit from an object. Every muscle in my body tenses as I realize what we’re going to have to do. It sounds terrible. Still, some tiny part of me rejoices, renewed energy singing through my veins and waking me more thoroughly than a sunrise. Finally, we have a way to defeat Hadrien’s soldiers that’s far more permanent than tossing them into the sea.
“Let me make sure I heard right,” Simeon says, his voice a shade higher than usual. “We”—he gestures to me and Jax, then himself—“have to be wounded to the brink of death soourspirits can reach through the metal husks and pull out the spirits inside? Then they’ll be forced back to the Deadlands, never to trouble us again? Or at least, not until the next violet-eyed mage comes along?” When Ilyra nods, he laughs weakly and mutters, “Sounds like fun.”
Simeon’s words bring the awful reality of what we have to do crashing down over my head, snuffing out my momentary spark of joy. If Meredy were in my place, she’d be determined to stop the spirits regardless of the consequences. Knowing that, I resign myself to the fact that I’m going to have to deliberately bleed out when we return to shore.
But there isn’t time for another plan, not with so many lives at stake. With Karthia itself at stake. It may not be exactly like the place I knew and loved for so long, and it may have taken Hadrien threatening to raze the place to the ground for me to realize it, but Karthia is still my home. It’s still the place that smells of bergamot and the salty sea. Though we’ve both rearranged our contours in the last few months, we’ve found new ways to fit together, Karthia and me.
“How can we be sure you’re telling us the truth?” Valoria demands suddenly, crossing her arms. She stands on her tiptoes,giving her a boost in height that still doesn’t quite allow her to tower over Orsa and Ilyra the way I think she’s intending. “All we have is your word, which means for all I know, you’re trying to send my friends to their deaths. Can’t we simply take the soldiers apart with tools and have our necromancers pull the spirits out without any of the bloodshed?”
Ilyra shakes her head. “That’s not how the ritual works. There is no other way.”
Orsa frowns as Valoria questions the Ezoran mage. “Do you forget your own words so quickly, queenling?”
Valoria frowns at the term. “I’m not a queenling. You’re not that much older than me!”
“Yet you have so much to learn,” Orsa says solemnly. “As you said earlier, it would seem we need each other. Our war in Sarral is not going well, and we found no allies in the places we raided on the way to Karthia. My people need new land, and you need help taking back that land before you can bestow it on us. It’s in our best interest, as you say, to give you whatever assistance we can in this matter, be it knowledge, blades, or... both.”
“Wait,” I blurt, deliberately avoiding the gazes of Valoria and the others. “What are you saying? You’re going to fight alongside us, when you could stay safe on your ship?”
Orsa just smiles, like the thought of a battle warms her heart, and says, “Perhaps it’s difficult for you to see, young necromancer, but magic is limited. Fists, however, have infinite uses so long as one is alive. Why be a mage when you can be a warrior? And why turn down a chance to win a fight?”
I shake my head at her words. Still, I’m glad we’ll have the extra swords when we return to Karthia.
Orsa offers Valoria her hand again. “I trusted you with my life when I was about to lose it, and you didn’t disappoint me. But trust is a double-edged blade. I wouldn’t risk the lives of your necromancers when I need them, too, unless it were absolutely necessary. Besides, our only practicing necromancer, Ilyra, will work with them. My wife.”
“I will?” Ilyra says, her eyes widening as she turns to Orsa.
“You will,” Orsa says to her before meeting Valoria’s gaze again. “We must trust each other for this alliance to work.”
“Trust,” Valoria echoes, a note of doubt in her voice.
“That’s right. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.” Orsa draws a small knife from her pocket, and my hand immediately flies to my blade. But she offers it hilt-first to Valoria. “Let’s make an oath here and now, deeper than our words. Be my sister in blood, so that we’ll never betray each other.”
Valoria accepts the knife. She glances my way, but I’m careful to keep my face blank. I can’t help her decide whether to make a blood oath with a leader who, while she doesn’t seem as bad as the rumors made her out to be, is practically a stranger. The unknown can be dangerous, as we’ve learned all too well.
Gritting her teeth, Valoria draws the knife across her palm and hastily hands it back to Orsa, who does the same. It’s a good thing Azelie’s cure is flowing through their veins, purifying any lingering traces of the fever.
The Ezorans watching from the other ship applaud, howl, and whistle as Orsa’s commander and wife, Ilyra, binds their hands together with a scrap of fabric. Valoria doesn’t flinch once, not even when they have to squeeze their hands, mixing their blood further, or when they break apart and Danial sees to their wounds.
Just like that, it’s done.
From the doorway, a small voice says, “Well, then. If our new alliescan spare a few of the supplies they stole in Lullin, I’ll get started on making more of the cure right away. There must be many sick people on the other ships in their fleet.”
I glance toward the stairway leading down to the sleeping cabins, trying to gauge Azelie’s expression, but her face is thrown into shadow by the lantern light. I hurry to her side and drop my voice to a whisper. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve already helped Valoria by gaining their trust. Why—?”
“I’ve been listening, and they aren’t as bad as they seemed,” Azelie explains quietly. “They’ve done some terrible things, it’s true, but they aren’t the monsters everyone in Sarral believed them to be. I had no idea they once lived on part of our land.” Softer, she adds, “When you think about it, most everyone here has probably done something terrible at one point or another. Even me. It’s how we survive.”
I squeeze her shoulder. She’s right about that. Still, I won’t lose any sleep over killing Hadrien this time around. Things have changed—I’ve changed—and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to stop him a second time. For good. “Give me a list of supplies,” I say quickly, “and I’ll bring it to Orsa before we set sail.”
As Azelie scurries off to find parchment, I turn away from the stairs to see my friends waiting for me. Valoria, Kasmira, Jax, Simeon, Danial, and even Nipper form a circle around me, drawing me into their midst. I try not to think about the fact that we might be the only living members of the wolf pack.
“Are you sure you’re up for this, you three?” Valoria asks, glancing between me, Simeon, and Jax. “As your friend, I really don’t want you to, and as your queen, I’d rather you tell menowhen I ask this, but...”
