Page 75 of Valour

But Hester had not pulled the trigger.

Frowning, she looked all around. What on Earth?

There, away to her right, a figure in white lay in the snow, the long, black barrel of the gun now visible.

Septimus. She had memorised that particular outline.

Huffing with frustration, she got to her feet and marched over.

“You shot my seal,” she said, a hand on her hip.

“I didn’t see your name on it, witch.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right.” Hester shielded her eyes and squinted into the distance. “Look, I can see there, on its flank. It does indeed spell your name. I-D-I-O-”

“Very funny.” Septimus cut her off. He got to his feet, making his way towards the dead seal through the hummocks of ice.

Hester smirked. The past few days after the siren attack had been full of barbed words, frustrated snarling and shouting matches. Hester laughed when she thought back to how she had been warming to him. She utterly detested him and he clearly despised her. And that was fine.

She caught up with him as he dragged the seal back towards the ship. “You haven’t smelt anything funny in your cabin today?”

He glowered. “I found the rotting pemmicin you stuffed in my pillowcase, if that’s what you mean.”

Hester sniggered.

He said nothing and continued dragging the seal.

“How was losing at football for the third time?” he muttered.

She scowled. “We’ll win next time.”

“Seems unlikely, witch.”

“Stop calling me that.” She liked the way he called her little witch, the mischief that played in his eyes as the endearment passed his lips. Witch, however, he spat out like he’d tasted something bad.

He dropped the seal and turned to face her. “Why? You are a witch. Where are your thunderclouds now? I can see you getting angry. Are you going to smite me?”

She certainly wished she could smite his stupid face off. Alas. “It ran out when I fought Odette.”

He frowned. “Ran out? What do you mean?”

“I used it up fighting her. When I’m not on land the magic runs out as I use it. It’s only replenished when I’m on land.” Or in the Underworld, but she could hardly say that.

His brow bunched. “Why?”

“How should I know?”

Septimus frowned. “What do you mean, how should I know? Surely you know.”

“I don’t know anything about it. I can’t always control it. I don’t know why it flares when I’m angry or how to stop it.” She hated explaining that to him. Hated admitting it. But the words spilled out.

He stared at her, and she could see the information sinking in. “Why don’t you know?”

“Because I was dumped in an orphanage as a small child and left to fend for myself. I’ll never know, unless I find my family.” Why was she telling him this? He certainly wouldn’t care.

He picked up the seal by the hind flippers and started pulling it again. “So the day the Intrepid…” The emotion rang in his words. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“You made me angry. I couldn’t control the magic. The orca came.”