Cassandra covered her ears as gale-force winds buffeted the stone walls surrounding them—Tristan attempting to use his power to move the statue. When that didn’t work, he turned and aimed it towards the water.
Cassandra knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain this level of magic indefinitely. The stronger the force he used, the more quickly it would drain.
“I sensed a draft earlier coming from the path on the right,” Tristan said through gritted teeth. “We may have to swim out of here. Take a deep breath.”
Cassandra sucked in the deepest breath she could manage as Tristan let down his shield and the freezing water crashed around them.
Claustrophobic and panicked, she clung to him as he pushed off the stairs and swam down the hallway. His wings dragged, hindering their progress.
She lost all sense of time, clutching Tristan’s chest as he propelled them through the rapids. Her lungs burned as she fought against the instinct to open her mouth and suck in air. Panic seized her and she clawed against Tristan’s arm.
Tristan paused as a faint glow appeared up ahead, and the water rushing against them intensified.
Wrapping his wings around her and with one final, powerful push off the floor, Tristan shot them into the stream.
Tristan released her from the cocoon of his wings and they tumbled onto a rocky ledge. The Sea of Thetis rose next to them, flowing into the jagged hole they’d just escaped through. It looked as if some incredible force had blown through the cliff face.
Crouched on her hands and knees, Cassandra sucked in lungful after lungful of blissfully unrestricted air. Tristan lay prone on his back beside her.
Hella crashed down onto the wet rocks, then began rubbing and beating at Cassandra’s back.
“Breathe, tiny human,” Hella shouted. “You okay? What happen?”
Hella’s attempts at first aid were making Cassandra feel worse, so she caught the Windrider’s arm on her next downstroke. “I’m fine, Hella,” she choked out. “Thank you. How did you find us?”
“Got message and rushed to Church, but water everywhere. Statue no budge, so I circle cliffs and find you like flopping fishes. We underneath town.” Hella pointed her wing towards the top of the cliff.
Cassandra’s gaze roamed up to the edge, then out over a jetty leading to a small island. Flat, crumbling gray stones poked up from the grass like broken, rotting teeth.
The town cemetery.
Perhaps the spirits of Vaengya’s honored dead had somehow guided their path, helped them escape the watery labyrinth. A sudden urge to pay respects gripped her.
She stood on shaky legs and tip-toed a careful path down the jetty, stepping over slimy rocks as she wrung out her hair. Tristan and Hella followed, Tristan grilling the hulking female about what she’d learned in the pub. Not much more than Tristan and Cassandra had learned from the dead Deathstalker’s memory.
“The Windrider that burned down the ship took the necklace,” Tristan whispered to Hella. “The Deathstalker we found beneath the Church was working for Maksym. Based on the state she left him in, it’s pretty clear that she’snotworking with them. Were the Vestians in Meridon able to find any other clues about who she is, who she might be working for?”
Hella shook her head, her long, golden braids tapping against her leather uniform.
Cassandra stepped off the rocks onto an overgrown patch of grass. Offerings had been laid at a few of the gravestones.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, her blood stirring in her veins at Tristan’s touch. Like her body, now filled with drops of his magic, thrilled even more intensely at his presence.
“Are you truly okay, Cass?” he whispered into her ear, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She reached up to stroke his cheek, improbably warm despite their chilly swim. “I’ll be fine.”
Cassandra’s gaze caught on a headstone in the second row. She pulled herself from Tristan’s grasp and rushed towards the familiar name.
He’d been acting strange since he’d learned that they were coming here. Had claimed that the town meant something to someone in his past.
And this headstone confirmed that his history was far more complicated than he’d yet shared with her.
She sank to her knees in the wet grass, and Tristan loosed a sharp breath.
“I think it’s time you told me the rest of your story, Tristan.” She traced her fingertips along the letters etched into the crumbling stone.
SAROS.
