I grin back at her, violence dancing in my eyes. “We all will.”
***
We make our way to the boat under the cover of darkness, officially rebels on the run. The darkness is like a tangible cloak hiding us from sight. I gulp down the salt air as it keeps me calm, grounded even.
Lachlan slips a healing tonic into my hand. “You’re gonna need another one of these to get through the journey,” he cautions.
I throw the vial back, and the warmth seeps into my veins, dulling most of the pain.
As fugitives, we don’t risk boarding one of the larger vessels in the port and opt for a smaller, sleeker longboat that is the perfect size for the four of us.
Mina and Evander have agreed to fly to Olundy the following day to make sure we aren’t followed.
Our boat has been tied off just beyond the shore, on the outskirts of the city. The perfect hiding spot for secretly leaving the capital. Our boots tromp across the black sand, and we wade quietly into the frigid water to the boat. The bow and stern rise sharply, straight up, and curl in on themselves, reminding me of a sea dragon.
I grin to myself as I graze my hand along the smooth wood. Mathilda reaches a hand out to help me aboard, and I grip my ribs tightly with one arm. I let her help pull me up and over the side onto the boat. Tane and Lachlan begin pushing the boat farther into the tide.
Waves crash violently against the boat, causing me to hold tightly to the side with one hand and my wound with the other. My skin stays together, but the pain lashes across my midsection. Lachlan splashes up and over the side, spraying us with saltwater before giving us a wicked grin. He helps Tane onto the boat, and his large body swings over the side so gracefully it makes me jealous.
“It’s gonna be a long journey. Let’s set a slow pace,” Tane calls to Lachlan.
They pick up the wooden oars and begin rowing. Pulling us away from the city. My back to the sea, I watch the city slowly vanish before my eyes, darkness swallowing it up as we row towards Olundy.
This is my home now, these are my people, and I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
A single tear spills down my cheek. I just pray we’re not too late.
The steady rocking of the sea and the rowing, coupled with the healing tonic, lull me to sleep.
I awaken sometime later, my head in Mathilda’s lap as she soothingly strokes my hair while she looks out at the sea. Her hair is braided back, and the plait is draped over her shoulder. It reminds me of how my mother would braid her hair back on long journeys. I slowly rise from her lap, stretching my arms up over my head and yawning before quickly dropping my arms to keep the pain from lancing across my side.
But there’s no pain.
I pull the linen down to check my wound, but I’m startled by the light pink scar in its place.
“It’s healed,” I whisper.
Mathilda chuckles. “Morning, sleepy head,” she teases. “Of course it’s healed. You were able to rest and let the tonic and magic do their jobs.” Her eyebrow raises. “You do realize that you’re basically immortal now.” She says it so casually, as if she’s commenting on the color of the sky. But I was just a human a mere month ago.
The realization is unsettling.
The sun peeks over the horizon. The dark blue of the sea embraces the golden ball that leaks light into the sky. Salty air invigorates me with each inhale, and I smile at the sea, a true, broad smile, as happiness envelops me.
A curse rings out as Lachlan fumbles with the oar and tries to get in sync with Tane again.
“You woke just in time. We’re nearly there,” Tane calls from his seat and tilts his head behind him.
Piercing the surface of the sea is a sheer cliff steadily climbing higher with each row. As we get closer, I have to crane my neck back to see to the very top of it. I’m so busy looking up, I don’t see the small crack in the cliff that we’re squeezing our boat through until the sound of the wind over the sea cuts off, replaced by the lapping of gentle waves.
It’s too tight a squeeze for our oars, and the guys heft them onto the boat as the tide pushes us along the channel between the rocks. I can touch the rock on either side of us from my seat as we cruise along, and my fear of small spaces squeezes the air from my lungs.
Tane shivers as the rock presses in and closes his eyes. “I hate this part,” he grumbles, and I smile, relieved I’m not the only one.
Lachlan’s wooden seat creaks as he reaches under it to pull out a horn. It’s a glossy black with runes carved into the side, their geometric shapes glittering gold. A strap of leather wraps around the middle and the end of the horn, connected with along, thin piece like a handle. Noticing my stare, he winks at me, bringing the horn up to his partially parted lips. He inhales a large breath, his broad, tattooed shoulders moving with the effort, and then he blows the horn.
The loud blast makes me quickly cover my ears as he blows the horn again in two shorter blasts. The last sound of the horn echoes through the narrow pass before ebbing away. I release my ears, my mouth open in shock, and I stare at him in utter bewilderment.
He merely shrugs, his eyebrow arching.
