Enough to illuminate the outline of the ship’s railing and the promise of safety beyond.
Quentin’s lungs squeezed, desperate to draw in air. He kicked and grabbed the water with a wild urgency, arm still wrapped tightly around Delaynie, swimming madly for the railing.
Hang in there, little wolf.
They hit the railing. He pulled them both down, diving beneath it. Soft streaks of dawn sunlight filtered through the water, and he nearly passed out from relief.
Quentin broke the surface with a gasping cough, choking on his greedy breaths. A large piece of wood floated less than a foot away, and with the last of his strength, he hauled himself andDelaynie onto it. Her hair splayed around her, nearly black from the water.
Her chest was still.
Wild, crazed fear gripped him close. He grabbed her head in his hands and pushed her mouth open, tilting her chin back and to the side.
“Breathe, little wolf.” His voice was hoarse and croaking. “Fuckingbreathe.”
The world stood still.
When she trembled under his touch, he almost lost consciousness with his relief.
Delaynie shook, her chest convulsing. Her face scrunched and she pushed herself onto her side, coughing and retching, sea water leaving her body.
The sound of her drawing in a ragged breath was like music to his fucking ears.
Quentin ran his hands over her head as she continued to cough up water and draw in air, whispering soothing, nonsensical words. He was exhausted and a bit delirious, but it didn’t matter, because she was alive.
They both were. Somehow, by some miracle, they’d both made it.
“Quentin?” Delaynie finally whispered. Quentin couldn’t help his grin as her eyes tipped up to meet his.
“Welcome back, little wolf,” he said. “Way to shave years off my life.”
She blinked, a hazy shroud still covering her expression. “What… What happened?”
“A storm. A bad one—” Quentin stopped when he noticed the stillness in the air.
It was an eerie calm. The sun was just cresting the horizon, painting the sky in soft golds and pinks. A few clouds dottedthe sky, but the seas were calm, the waves gently rocking the capsized vessel.
All traces of the storm were gone.
Confusion and panic again beaded beneath his skin. “What the fuck…” He searched the wreckage for signs of other survivors, for more members of the crew, for Cecco.
But the seas were still and silent. Their only companion was the overturned ship and the pieces of debris around them.
“Something isn’t right.” He pushed up, trying to get a better view over the ship. The plank beneath him wobbled, and Delaynie let out a yelp.
Her hand gripped his forearm, nails digging into his skin. “Quentin.” There was a twinge of urgency in her voice, a tone he’d never heard from her before.
Quentin dropped back into the board, grabbing her hand in his. “What is it, little wolf?”
She swallowed, something manic flashing in her eyes. “If this is it,” she said, “then I have to tell you. I have to tell someone.” Her cheeks flushed, strands of auburn hair plastered to her temples. “I-I think I’m?—”
She never got to finish.
A searing horn echoed across the still seas, cutting through the sunrise like a knife. It was a horn Quentin had heard before, a sounding call he’d become too familiar with over the winter. A bellowing that still sometimes haunted his nightmares.
Quentin and Delaynie held each other tighter as they lifted their gazes to the horizon.
Where a Kizar ship with dark sails skimmed across the waves, heading right for the wreckage ofThe Vesper.
