“Look, I’m a rogue god, not an oracle. The memory loss? Found out yesterday right along with you.”
“Don’t you dare act innocent. You knew who I was, and youchoseto stay silent,” I snarled back.
Noctis grinned.
“Why are you smiling? Is this funny to you?”
“Funny? No. Just enjoying the fact that you’re still a challenge.”
The opening of Plumsu Island stood before us an hour later, a faint, flickering orange glow shining through the hole in the tree line.
I cocked my head. “It’s nighttime. Why does it look like dawn?” I asked softly. The fury dissipated into confusion.
Calvin’s eyes shot open. “We’re under attack.”
CHAPTER NINE
Brightness swelled in brilliant saffron-red hues, heat billowing through the trees in unbearable gusts as we trampled through Plumsu Island’s exit. Flames engulfed the pristine white warship that sank in a gradual creep beneath the water, gilded armored soldiers thrashing in the deep toward Zahara’s ship.
The Royal Vanguard.
Metal clanged through the brisk air, clashing in combat.
Zahara and Jun.
I dove head first into the ocean, muscles shifting under my skin with a tingle that merged into a sleek, seamless tail. The pain accompanying my mutilated ankle vanished, physical relief flooding my system.
Void darkness enveloped me, my merfolk eyes adjusting sluggishly, the transforming gills sipping air in small swallows. Scales along my skin rippled through the water, announcing their comforting presence. I propelled, my tail pushing through the murky sea and launched myself through the surface. Gripping the ship’s railing, I plummeted over, crashing onto the deck as my tail split into my land form, agony returning through my left ankle.
A Royal Vanguard soldier lunged unnoticed as I fumbled to stand, throwing me over the banister, plunging back toward the inky water below. Before I could crash into the sea, a sudden, warm essence encased me—Noctis’s magic, unseen and steady. Itcaught me midair, embracing my whole being and lifting gently onto the deck, setting me down in an unoccupied area.
Invasive.
The god settled forcefully before me, rage stifling the air in his presence. He unsheathed the two long swords from across his back between his fiery feathered wings hugging his form. The muscles beneath the netted, transparent shirt rippled.
“You always forget your left side. Don’t this time. Especially with your ankle,” he shot over his shoulder. He bolted toward the approaching modest army—ten royal soldiers on board; however, six of them laid out in puddles of their own blood across the main deck, and many others floated the ocean's surface.
Their gilded armor encased them, helmets featuring narrow slits across the front. Glinting rays of reflected sunshine pierced the air, surely a tactic to blind the opponents the Royal Vanguard fought.
Carnage lay ahead, raw, violent, and stained with ruin. My eyes searched for Jun and Zahara through the piles of bodies, begging and praising as I scanned and did not find them.
A blessing I couldn’t make out the carcasses’ lifeless eyes through the helms; however, I did make out their soft spots.
Armpits. Throat.
Metal clashed at my right beyond the helm, and I spun.
The soldiers circled Jun in cocky, vengeful silence, then their swords collided with a thunderous ring. Jun clutched his side, his other arm lifting his blade in desperate defense. The first soldier viciously swung his katana aiming for Jun’s ribs, the metal skimming through his clothing and slicing the skin beneath.
I limped forward as if chased by a creeping dread, my sopping wet clothing sticking uncomfortably to my body. The dagger in my palm twisted instinctively, the other gripping the railing. Dull pain hummed through my jaw as I clenched myteeth through the pain that clawed its serrated nails through me. I would reach him. I would save him like it was my life’s only goal.
I was so close, yet so far away.
“What a disgrace you are,” the first soldier spat and brought the sword down on the hooded male. But Jun blocked it with his own weapon, his body shuddering under the pressure and torment it endured.
The snarling soldier shoved the blade down until he came nose-to-nose with Jun. His metallic hand lifted and shoved the cloak from Jun’s scarred head. Jun’s hand reached to cover his head—his dignity—but the soldier shoved further.
“Your own father disowned you. Hell, heorderedus to kill you with our own hands,” the guard said, bitter and low. Soft on the tongue, yet sharp on the heart; the furrowed brow proved that the soldier’s words left wounds on Jun’s heart that no shouting could rival.
