“What happen? Where Tristan?” Hella asked, her face a portrait of calm determination.
“There’s a fire in the dining hall. We need to wake the passengers and get them to the lifeboatsnow.”
Hella nodded, then sucked in a deep breath and let out a high-pitched, keening shriek that rattled the doors. Cassandra clapped her hands over her ears.
Every remaining door in the hallway opened, and questioning faces beneath sleep-mussed hair peeked into the hallway.
“There is fire!” Hella bellowed. “Leave room, leave things, go to lifeboats!”
The crowd jolted into action, mortals and Fae pouring into the narrow hallway as a frenzy of frightened shouts ricocheted off the walls.
Cassandra and Hella stayed behind the stream of bodies, watching as the flames drew ever closer. The smoke burned Cassandra’s lungs and eyes as the crowd moved at a glacial pace.
Coughing, tears streaming down her cheeks, Cassandra turned to Hella. “We’re not going to make it,” she choked out. “There’s too many people and the fire is moving too fast.”
Hella’s burnished gold eyes darted from the crowd to the flames, assessing. She brought her fingers to her mouth and emitted a sharp whistle.
Every head in the hallway turned towards her. “Flames too fast, no time. Drop and cover!”
Cassandra had no idea what Hella intended, but she wasn’t about to question the ancient female. She tumbled to the carpeted floor, then curled into a ball and shielded her head.
And tried not to scream in abject horror as Hella summoned the wind to tear the roof off the ship.
* * *
Tristan couldn’t catchthe Windrider, and tried not to let it bruise his tender pride.
His pounding wings shredded the clouds to ribbons of mist as he arrowed through the night sky, gritting his teeth against the exertion. The fluttering, pale pink wings that he’d finally located after a frantic, minutes-long search remained frustratingly out of reach, even after he summoned his power for a rocketing boost. The rushing wind ripped at his hair and pulled tears from his eyes.
And the bitch was agile too. On several occasions during the chase, he was sure he had her, only to clamp his hand around empty air as she dipped and pivoted, wringing frustrated growls from his raw throat.
He was only dimly aware of how far he’d flown. There was not a landmark in sight, and only simmering, inky water below. He could barely see the steamship, a faint orange aura staining the horizon behind him.
This chase was pointless. He should return to the ship, help Cass, Hella, and the other passengers.
The Windrider came to a halt. Her pale pink wings swished as she hovered in place, and a vicious cackle speared from her ghost-pale face.
“Catch me if you can.” Her voice was high-pitched and hurried, the words tripping over each other as they escaped her mouth.
“Who are you?” Tristan barked, fanning his own wings to stay aloft as he aimed his stun pistol at her.
“A messenger from the New Ethyrios,” she answered with a maniacal grin, her luminescent blue eyes glinting, daring him to shoot her. “She will rise to save us.”
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a deafening explosion boomed over the horizon. Chunks of debris shot through the air, then crashed into the sea with a hissing splash.
Tristan’s stomach hollowed out and all the air rushed out of his lungs, his ears popping as though he’d launched into the sky too fast to adjust to the pressure.
Cassandra.
He didn’t turn back to the Windrider. Didn’t care about her cryptic words.
He barreled as fast as he could for the decimated ship, hoping it was the only thing he’d find in pieces.
* * *
The scenearound Cassandra slowed and muddled, as if she were viewing it underwater. Hella towered over her, the Windrider’s arms stretched to the starlit sky as she poured her power into the wind-shield surrounding herself, Cassandra, and the other passengers.
Jagged pieces of wall had replaced the cabins, and beyond them, the endless sea stretched for miles to the faint, obsidian horizon.
