Marshen helped Ronn and Fenric move the boat out onto the shore, using wooden beams and logs. I walked along its side, my fingertips brushing the ghost of its ink. I could still make out its name—Mercy.
“The two young men who ventured on this one named it so, saying it was the only thing they asked of Thalassa.Mercy,” Fenric commented. “Here,” he said, extending his arms towards me. “It’s made from rust and oil.”
I accepted the makeshift paintbrush and the reddish-brown paint. I took my time, meticulously tracing each cursive letter, asking Thalassa for the same thing. Mercy. Just as I had asked of her before leaping into the Depths.
Ronn and Fenric were engrossed in a thorough inspection, but after a series of minor adjustments and upgrades, both craftsmen deemed it safe to sail, or rather, to tow. Ronn and Fenric brought out the towline that I had asked them to make on the eve of our departure. No wonder they looked exhausted. I deprived them of one full night of sleep. But they didn’t once complain. They simply carried on without reluctance.
I specified that the towline had to be strong enough to withstand the razor-sharp teeth of a great white. Ronn told me they’d made it from iron chains and bark strips, assuring me of its durability.
I was carrying our supplies onto the boat when Marshen approached. “So this is your grand plan, huh? I will be towing you along the Brim.”
“So you’ve figured it out.”
“Well, watching these two attach a tow chain kind of gives it away,” Marshen said, motioning his head.
“I guess it does. Help me with those, will you? It’ll be dark soon.”
Salty wind swept across the golden shore, nipping at my sun-kissed cheeks. I looked out at the horizon.
Marshen and Alma approached. Alma raised her arms and held us both by our shoulders.
“Are you two ready?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Shit,” Marshen mumbled.
I raised a confused brow at him, noticing that his attention was fixed on Alma. I only understood when the sound of thumping hooves swelled around us, drawing our attention.
“No!” Alma shouted.
“Wait for me! I’m coming with you!”
“No, Blake! You are not!” Alma cried out, striding towards the charging horse. I gasped, reaching uselessly for her, unlike Marshen, whose arms shot around her waist, pulling her back just in time. “I can’t let you go. I’ve lost enough!”
“I am a Briartide!” Blake bellowed. “I shall sail with them and tell King Ryvar myself, that we, the Water Wielders, Nymphs, and humans have been patiently waiting for his aid.”
Briartide!? But that means…
My breath caught at the realisation.
When Alma had said that her husband came from a powerful family, my mind leapt to exceptional Water Wielding skills, not royal bloodlines. I certainly hadn’t imagined him being kin to Queen Mirana.
I ignored Marshen’s gaping jaw and lifted my chin, squaring my shoulders.
“Briartide, a word,” I said, gesturing with my head. Blake dismounted and fell into step at my side, our footsteps crunching along the sandy shore. I turned his way and grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Listen to me, Blake, you know how much your mother misses your father. How she thinks about him every day, worrying, wondering, if he’s all right. I don’t think she can take any more of that, and I think you know that, too. For now, your life mission is going to be protecting her, protecting them. You need to be on your guard, ready to defend them if the Naaris come, just like we discussed yesterday. But I promise you this, when the day comes that I’ll be going on another deadly mission, I’ll make sure to let you know first.” I expected him to argue with me, but to my surprise, he nodded, looking away. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes seemed haunted.
“Delia, my father, Norrin…Norrin Briartide, please ask for him.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Thank you. May Thalassa, wherever she is, protect you both.”
“May she protect you, too. All of you.”
Alma stood between us once more. She hugged Marshen first. “You take care of her, all right?”
“Oh, I have to,” Marshen said. “Otherwise I’ll bekshh.” The hissing sound he made came with a slicing thumb that moved along his throat. “You get what I mean? Her boyfr—”
“Just get in the godsdamned water and shift,” I barked at Marshen.
