Stark’s hand closes around my arm, yanking me. “Cratos!” he bellows, sprinting with me.
My balance is upset by the tilt of the ship’s deck, and Stark has to catch me and drag me back up. Cratos is on his feet, fangs bared, growling.
We reach Cratos right as the ship’s hull hits the rocks.
I cry out as I’m thrown to the deck, but Cratos is above me. He braces his massive body, using his weight and strength to ground the three of us. He sinks his teeth into the ropes hanging from the ship’s mast.
Stark holds me with one arm and clings to Cratos’s fur with the other. There’s an awful creaking, scraping sound as the ship glances off the stones.
A blur of white flashes past my eyes. I scream when I realize it’s Anassa writhing, her body flying over the deck, her claws scraping against the wood as she tries to resist the pull of gravity.
Her body slams into the railing, and she yelps, making Cratos growl and groan, though he doesn’t release his grip even then. Almost immediately, though, the ship starts to right itself.
Instantly, Cratos abandons us, rushing to Anassa’s side.
I pant, watching him worry over her, fear crystallizing in my veins. He literally bites her as if he needs to hold on to her.
Then she snaps at him and growls, getting back to her feet. I don’t have to hear their words to understand she’s telling him she’s fine and to stop being so dramatic. He nips at her ear, and she flicks it at him, her eyes seeking me.
I find my feet and rush to her. Unlike with Cratos, she lets me hold her. “Scared the shit out of me.”
“I hate ships.”
“You and me both.”
I lift my head. Stark leans on the railing, staring out at the jagged rocks. The rigging is squeaking and hissing. Lucien turns a lever that draws the ropes tight, dragging and folding the sails closed.
There’s a loud, metallic rattling sound as the anchor dislodges from its resting place.
“We can’t sail through that,” Lucien says by way of explanation. “There’s no clear path.”
I scratch Anassa’s face for a moment and then move to join him.
He’s right. The rocks we hit aren’t the only ones—the sea is covered in them. “No clear path at all?” I ask.
“Nothing I can see,” Venna tells me. “See the shadow in that open bit? There are likely more rocks just beneath the surface of the water.”
I grimace. The island is so tantalizingly close, but there’s still a vast stretchof white-capped water between us and its shore. Even if there were wide-open areas before us, if we tried to sail closer, more rock formations could emerge suddenly from the mist.
We can’t trust our eyes here.
“She’s right,” Lucien confirms, thudding down the steps from the helm. “Navigating any closer would risk the ship. We’re already in dangerous waters.”
“Are you all right?” I ask. There’s blood dripping from his arm.
He waves his hand dismissively. “Rigging bit me on its way up. Already almost healed. How are you going to approach?”
The debate immediately starts up, but Anassa’s voice cuts in.“There is only one solution to the approach. It is obvious, is it not?”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“We swim.”
I choke and look up at her. “Excuse me?!”
“What?” Venna asks. “What did she say?”
“Anassa said we shouldswim. Which is ridiculous. And reckless. The water looksfreezing, the distance is way too far, and, I’ll remind you, I’ve never swum in my life!” I yell, panic gripping me.
