The blood drains from me as the realization hits me. Sable sent all the men below deck. They wouldn’t have seen the enemy coming. They didn’t have time to prepare. Some of them were likely sleeping. And now they are likely being slaughtered.
“No,” Sable says, his voice thin and broken as he scrambles to his feet, his gaze searching his ship for another way back, though we both know there is none. The hull is too high to climb.
Time stretches, endless and distorted. From the corner of my eye, I see Sable shouting, trying to negotiate, offering his treasures, promising more than I know he can give. They ignore him, and he only shouts louder in response.
His gaze finds mine. He grips my shoulders, shaking me, likely screaming at me, but it is as though we are underwater. His mouth moves, but every sound is muffled, the world around us blurring at the edges. I try to reach for my power, but it feels distant, slipping away no matter how desperately I grasp for it.
Dark figures approach the railing, dragging someone in front of them. His boots skid over the boards as he struggles,screaming, kicking, trying to wrench himself free. He is too small for the hands that hold him.
By the six seas.
It is Lark.
Tears sting my eyes and spill down my cheeks as I stand paralyzed in horror. I search for my power again but still cannot find even a single thread of it. What good is it to be a siren if my power fails me now? Why must I be so utterly useless?
One of them lifts a knife.
I whimper, throwing my hand over my mouth, holding my breath as I reach for my power again. Whatever I grasp for shatters the moment I touch it, slipping away like sand through my fingers.
The blade flashes. Bright, red blood spills from Lark’s throat as the knife cuts clean through. I watch in horror as the life drains from his widened eyes. His small body tips forward and falls over the railing, the wind tearing at him, but I do not hear him hit the water.
Instead, I hear myself scream. The sound tears out of me, uncontrolled and violent, as the world collapses into black.
Chapter Thirty
Thescreamisstillpouring out of me as I wake. It rips through my throat, way too loud for a human voice, and echoes back at me from the timbers and the rails, from the open stretch of deck and the air above it. I jerk upright, lungs burning as I drag in breath after breath, my hands clawing at the planks beneath me.
I can still feel it.
The sand beneath my feet, the vision of Lark’s lifeless body falling, and falling, and falling. The way the world went quietright before it went dark. I suck in another breath and choke on it. The salt on my tongue tells me I am crying, but I am way too numb to really pay it any notice. My thoughts are a spiraling mess, trying to make sense of what happened.
I’m still in the middle of the deck, where we ended my training. I swallow, my gaze flicking across the planks, the rail, the empty stretch of sea beyond. There’s no sign of blood on the spot where they slit Lark’s throat. There’s no sandbank. No other ship.
That shouldn’t be possible.
I press my palm harder against the deck, as if reassuring myself that it is real. I try to remember how we ended the training, but that specific memory slips away when I try to hold onto it, blurring at the edges. What I do remember is how everything softened, and how I lost the feeling of time.
My chest tightens. I fell asleep.
It was a dream. All of it.
I press a hand to my chest, my heart still hammering like it's trying to escape my ribs, but I will take any discomfort as long as it means that Lark is still alive. A throbbing pain shoots through my body from the back of my head, and as I carefully move my fingers against it, I flinch. The tips of my fingers are covered in blood. I must’ve hit my head against the wood.
“Risa.”
I twist toward the familiar voice instinctively. Sable is half on his side beside me, one arm braced against the planks, the other already reaching for me. His hair is mussed, curls falling loose over his brow, his expression twisted. He looks as disoriented as I feel, like he woke up mid-fall and hasn’t found the ground yet. How did we not notice falling asleep?
“You’re here,” I breathe. “Why are we here?”
“I hate to admit this,” Sable answers, “But I have no idea.”
I push myself up and glance around the deck, which is slowly filling with members of the crew. I have to see Lark. See that he’s well and alive with my own eyes.
“Your head.” Sable is already crouching next to me, placing his thumb on my chin, before turning my head to the side so he can inspect my wound.
“We have to get you to the bonesetter,” he murmurs and helps me to my feet with one arm wrapped around my waist.
“No,” I say, but with my sore throat, the words barely make it out. “We have to leave. Right now. We can’t risk falling asleep again. Don’t you understand?”
