The ship cracked in two.
I gripped Val’s shoulder and pulled her to my chest, watching in horror as tentacle after tentacle curled around the shattered ship and dragged the humans down into the sea. Every time one of the warriors tried to swim away, another tentacle appeared and sucked him under.
In only moments, the only signs of life were floating bits of debris.
I tugged Val back across the gangplank to the relative safety of the docks. If the giant octopus went after another ship, I wanted her nowhere near it. Alastair followed, then so did the king. His face was so pale, he might have been dead.
He met my gaze, his lips parting. And in his shock, he let something slip.
“Something’s gone wrong,” he whispered.
Five
Tessa
Back in my quarters, I climbed onto the bed and lay flat on top of the sheets. My body was as stiff as a board. I tried to close my eyes and sleep, so that I might search for Kalen in my dreams. But after an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up. It was no use. My mind spun like a whirlpool. I’d no sooner sleep than the sun would set in Teine.
So I chose to pace instead, casting a sharp glance at the manacles and chains every time I passed the bed. Now that Andromeda knew the truth about the marriage bond, would she lock me up in here?
Thankfully, she didn’t realizeIknew I could leave.
I could leave.
My heart shuddered. I’d only suspected it before, but now I had confirmation. The vow I’d made to Andromeda would not keep me from Kalen. But it didn’t change my predicament. If I tried to go, I’d never get out of here. She would lock me in these chains.
I continued to pace, my mind racing. I needed a plan. I needed to find a way to escapeanda way to rid this world of these immortal beings. At least I knew Kalen was alive. That was what mattered most. And when we finally reunited, we would end the gods once and for all.
* * *
As the day grew late, I watched the procession of the sun with rapt attention from the window. I’d heard stories about sunsets, of course, but I’d never seen one. Back in Teine, the sun had merely crept from one side of the sky to the other, over and over, until constant daylight drove us into our windowless rooms for a brief respite.
In Dubnos, only darkness and shadowy moonlight filled the sky. There’d been nothing quite like this, the streaks of orange across the deepening dark, the pink flares that spiralled across the clouds, the glow it cast upon the coral-lined streets. If only Kalen were here to see it.
Stomach twisting, I crossed the room and climbed back into the bed. Sleep had eluded me earlier, but I had to find him. I had to speak with him. I had to be sure he was all right. Taking a breath, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but I tossed and turned for a good long while before I finally drifted into the dark.
I found myself in a dreamscape entirely of my own making. It was so familiar to me now that a sense of homesickness swept over me at the sight of the swaying grass, the sweep of mist curling through the trees, and the sound of the birdsong. But as I waited there, my unbound hair flowing in the breeze, an understanding settled over me. Kalen’s absence was as loud as the birds. He wasn’t here, and he wasn’t coming.
I was alone in my dreams for the first time in a very long while.
Where is he? Perseus had let him live, but I knew Kalen would come here if he could.
My anger was thick and hot on my tongue, and my fury fuelled me as food never had. After forcing myself to wake, I leapt from the bed and paced. I could not rest until I found a way out of this.
Hours passed. My mind conjured nothing but anger. A knock sounded on the door sometime later, breaking me out of my reverie.
“What is it?” I asked the closed door.
A moment later, it opened to reveal Andromeda again. She swept into the room. This time she wore a golden silk gown that whispered around her sandaled feet. A matching necklace glittered at her throat, but the gleam of it was nothing compared to the flash of her teeth when she smiled. I tensed, half-expecting her to mention the marriage bond.
But she merely gave me a quick once-over. “Come.”
My first instinct was to argue or make a cutting remark. I bit my tongue instead. “Where are you taking me?”
“Nervous, are we? The guards told me you’ve been pacing in here for hours. Come. Break bread with us.”
“Break bread,” I repeated, resisting the urge to recoil. “You’re inviting me to dinner with you?”
“With all of us.” She moved toward the door, then waited for me to follow.
