“The charts aren’t wrong.” Evie’s pencil taps on the deck as she stares at the charts so hard you’d think she was trying to burn an answer into existence.
“And the compass is still broken,” Kieran adds from the bow as he sharpens a blade. He’s been sharpening that blade for twenty minutes, the scrape of steel against stone as steady as a metronome, and I don’t know how much sharper it can possibly get.
Evie traces the one of the charts without looking up. “Which is why I’ve been navigating by the stars, except the stars here don’t like staying in the same place, so I’m cross-referencing the academy’s maritime coordinates with a sky that might as well be?—”
“Random,” Callie finishes.
“I was going to say unfamiliar.”
“You were going to say random and dress it up.”
Heat shimmers off Evie’s skin.
I yank my hands out from under my thighs. “Can we stop talking about the compass and the charts?” I snap, miraculously getting their attention. “We’ve been going back and forth about navigation for days.”
“Then whatshouldwe be talking about?” Evie snaps back at me.
“Maybe the reason why we’re out here. Circe told us the Blood Coven resurrected Ambrogio, they want to turn themselves into Revenants, and that the cosmic goddesses chose champions to stop it. That’s me. That’s what my lightning’s for. That’s why Tempest?—”
“See, this is where you lose me.” Callie holds up one hand, palm out, like she’s directing traffic. “Every single time.”
Don’t spark. Don’t spark. Don’t spark.
“I stayed on the boat, so I didn’t talk to Circe,” Callie continues. “I didn’t see the loom. All I have is your version of it.”
“It’s notmyversion. It’s the truth.” My thumb digs into the sigil on my palm hard enough to draw blood. “Evie was there. Kieran was there. They?—”
“They saw a burning thread on a loom.” Callie tilts her head. “I believe that part. What I’m less sure about is the interpretation. A sorceress who’s been isolated on an island for centuries tells you you’re a goddess’s chosen champion, that the original vampire has been resurrected from the Underworld, that he’s turning supernaturals into a supercharged vampire army, and we’re just accepting this with no questions or skepticism?”
“What, exactly, are you skeptical about?” I ask, and it takes everything in me to calm the electricity in my veins that’s begging me to shock that smug smile off her face. “I have lightning magic. Witches don’t have lightning magic. So where did mine come from? Because it didn’t show up one day for funsies. It showed up because Tempest touched my forehead during a lightning storm andgaveit to me.”
“And she told you this?”
I stop. “What?”
“Did Tempest tell you all of this?” Callie’s eyebrows lift. “Did she explicitly say, ‘I’m choosing you as my celestial champion, here’s some lightning, go save the world from a resurrected vampire who’s creating a supernatural army to storm the heavens so he can steal the goddess he loves away from a dream realm she’s living in with her human lover?’”
My mouth opens and closes, because when she says it that way, it does sound a bit far-fetched.
“Has Circe spoken to this ‘Blood Coven?’” she asks, measured and quiet in a way that’s somehow worse than shouting. “Has she seen Ambrogio? How do we know what she’s saying has any merit at all, and that she’s not just a sorceress doing what all immortals love to do—meddling in mortal affairs?”
She has a point.
No. Shut up. She does NOT have a point.
I look at Logan.
He’s leaning against the railing, his arms crossed, his eyes tracking between Callie and me with a completely neutral expression.
Say something,I think.You told me you’d seen the term Revenant in old texts. You were helping me research it.
Then, finally, he speaks.
“We should be careful about what we treat as fact,” he says, calm and level in a way that makes frustration boil in my blood. “Circe gave us information. Some of it matches what the Headmistress said, and that’s worth paying attention to. But it never hurts to remain skeptical of everything you hear. To never assume that because one person says something, it’s true.”
I stare at him, and the deck feels like it drops out from under me. Because this is the man who whisperedI love youagainst my skin more times than I can count, who time-traveled gods know how many times to keep me alive. And now he’s standing here with his arms crossed, using his proctor voice, calling the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me a lie?
The others aren’t doing anything better. Evie’s staring at the star charts as if they hold the secrets to the universe, and Kieran keeps sharpening that damn blade.
