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“Or you could join my crew instead,” Darcy says, scrambling to stop me from stealing her credit. “We could use your…expertise, and you’d be safer with a team.”
“Would you allow me to publish the details of the excursion afterwards?” I ask, appealing to her ego.
This seems to get the wheels turning in her head. She could have her name recorded in the texts for killing such a notorious beast.
“Yes, of course.” She stands taller, as if she’s already claimed herself a spot in history. “We’ll row out two nights from now. Please follow us to the castle, and we’ll find you a room.”
That’s exactly where I need to be, in the same building where Cordelia goes about her daily activities.
Smug delight pours through me, but it’s short-lived. Every time I think my symptoms have passed, my head starts pounding again.
My body has been too weak to manipulate my aether properly, so I’ve had to get creative—borrowing a boat from a man who hasn’t realized it’s on loan yet and carrying all my gear with me. The bag is heavy, and my head feels like rocks are rolling around in it.
I could do with an entire week of pure darkness in the rafters of an abandoned building, but I’m not going to let Cordelia go on Darcy’s excursion without me.
Too many nightmares of her falling overboard have left me shaking and unable to sleep. In my dreams, her death is always twisted into a story of self-sacrifice, the poor Duchess losing her true love before she could make her her wife.
I watch her retreat after I’m shown to my room, but I don’t linger in the doorway for long, rejecting Darcy’s offer to send maids to my chamber.
As soon as I’m alone, I drop my bag and sword, then collapse into the bed.
Waves of nausea roll through me. I toss and turn, searching for a position to quell them.
My stomach is too empty to get any relief from vomiting. I lie on my side, my abdomen contracting painfully as I dry heave.
The retching stops eventually, and strange thoughts race through my head as I try to absorb the cold comfort of the pillow beneath my cheek.
“Zephyr,” Cordelia whispers through the aether. I can almost see her in the shadows of her bedchamber, speaking directly to her pendant. “Are you ok? You seemed off before.”
I wipe my brow and settle back into the cloud of feathers. “What? You’re not a fan of my disguise?”
“No, I like it just fine, Professor.”
“Good.” My smile creeps back up again. “I’ll sleep well knowing you fancy my appearance.”
“Oh, shush, you know that’s not what I mean,” she says. “You looked like you were going to be ill when we were walking back from the beach.”
“I had a rough trip.”
“Are you seasick?” Cordelia pries. “I’ve heard of that happening. Aren’t you worried you’ll be ill on our excursion?”
“No, I don’t get seasick.” I press my hand over my eyes to block out the faint glow of torchlight coming through the gap beneath the chamber door. “Let me sleep it off, and I’ll be fine.”
“Alright,” she huffs.
The aether goes quiet, and I hug another pillow close to me. The minutes pass like hours as I slip into a restless state where I’m not quite sleeping or awake.
Friends from my past come to visit me, their voices and bodies flitting past the canopy. I have to remind myself they’re not in this realm.
They haven’t been in years.
This is all a fever dream, and it will pass. Soon, I hope, because I’m trapped.
I press my face to a wall of glass and see Cordelia’s soul floating in a small container. We’re both in jars on the sea witch’s shelf, and mine is right next to hers.
“Help me,” she mouths, and the bottom of my world drops out. I spiral as warm water rushes over me, taking me down into the temple of the Undine.
Cordelia runs her hands over the statue of a mermaid transforming into a woman, her tail curling around the curves of that sculpted body. I’m suspended in water, forced to watch her nipples graze the marble as her desire simmers through our bond.
