Decree, p.11
Decree, page 11
She looked over in surprise. “Are you serious? Dragons can actually do that?” Her eyes drifted out the window to the silver-capped water drifting below. “Can this sea ever be burned up by dragons?”
“Never,” the fae replied. “It’s too deep. This water will be here as long as the earth stands.”
Never say never.
Chapter 8
Something felt different the next morning. Kiera wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
She hoisted onto her elbows to find the bed was empty, and the others had already gone upstairs for breakfast. They usually took their meals together, but when they found themselves adrift on the ocean without the press of daily chores, they tended to let each other sleep.
She dressed quickly and ventured up to the deck, only to find Jesse and Evander leaning together against the rail. They were speaking softly, yet their eyes were tilted skyward. She followed their gaze to a distant silhouette carved against the sunrise. Eden was in his favorite perch atop the center rigging—gazing towards the horizon with a little smile dancing in his eyes.
Wow, it’s cold.
“Good morning,” she called, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her. The airy robes they’d been gifted in the desert seemed like another life. “Are you waiting for him to fall?”
There had been a minor disagreement over the dice the previous evening—one that had started with jeers and taunting, but quickly escalated to the point of blades. Unsurprisingly, the fae had been at the center of the fray—loudly proclaiming his innocence, gleefully making things worse.
The men chuckled quietly, lifting their eyes once again.
“You will spend a lot of time sailing after this,” Jesse murmured to the vampire, squinting all the way to the top. “He is in heaven.”
Only a day before, the vampire had tired of simply watching and spirited up the rigging himself—surprising the fae by leaping over the side of the crow’s nest. Even so far below on deck, the others heard Eden’s shout of alarm, the burst of delighted laughter that followed.
After spending so long in the company of mortals, Kiera sometimes thought it must have been somewhat of a relief for him, to find someone as sudden and weightless as himself.
As if he could hear them talking, Eden swung suddenly from the mast—touching only the tips of his fingers to the rope, before landing beside them on the deck.
“I cannot see anything yet,” he declared with preamble, “but I could have sworn that I heard some seagulls this morning, so we must be close to shore.”
Of course you’re already watching for land. It must always be the next thing.
“Seagulls,” Evander repeated with a bit of a smile. “And we’re supposed to believe that?”
Eden looked at him questioningly.
“You saw them in the desert,” the vampire explained, trying not to remember the look on his lover’s face when he’d said it—that haunted, twisting hope. “They say the mind will conjure the things it wants most. Yours have always been the sea. Is that something you wish to explore?”
Kiera had hallucinated a crate of bees, but chose not to say anything.
“Perhaps...” Eden flashed a grin, then abruptly stilled—looking almost shy. His eyes drifted tentatively to the vampire. “Might you wish to try something like that?”
“Perhaps,” Evander echoed coyly, tilting his head. “It depends on the company.”
“Just me and Arsinia,” the fae answered without hesitation.
The others laughed aloud, while the vampire offered an indulgent smile.
“My kind generally avoid the open water. There is a question of blood.”
And kraken, apparently.
“You wouldn’t have that question with me,” Eden replied entreatingly, sweet as honey. “We could be pirates. Good-natured pirates. We could rule the stormy seas...”
“Damnit,” Jesse cursed, fumbling in his cloak and pressing a coin into Kiera’s hand. “She said it wasn’t possible for you to spend any time aboard a ship without deciding to become a pirate. Since you are older than most fossils, I’d hoped you might have a bit more self-respect.”
She stuffed the coin triumphantly into her pocket. “Amateur mistake.”
Eden ignored this, as well as the jab about his age. “What do you have against pirates?” he asked instead.
“What do I have against pirates?” Jesse echoed slowly. “Shall I merely repeat the question with varying degrees of sarcasm, or do you actually wish for a reply?”
“Pirates are not all bad people,” Eden replied patiently. “I was once captured by pirates and held for nine weeks. Whatever else happens, this cannot be worse than that.”
“Wait a second,” Kiera interjected. “You were captured by pirates?” It sounded like the kind of thing a person lied about in a tavern when the ale had gone to peoples’ heads. Furthermore, the fae had told her in confidence, it was his first time on a ship—the last time they were on a ship. “How in the world did that happen?”
Eden shrugged, as though such things were inevitable. “Ironically enough, there’s a chance that actually was my fault. A group of us were staying at a tavern in Alsbreth. It was besieged by a band of cutthroats who kept us locked inside for weeks. It was nothing but rum and cards. More rum and cards. Truth be told, it was a rather lovely time.”
The others laughed again, while Evander lifted his eyes to the heavens.
“What have I done to deserve you?” he asked with a shake of the head. “Is it simply all the people I’ve killed? Will it be another year of punishment for each one?”
“The point is, I know what it’s like to be under the control of someone else, subject to their every reckless whim. I’ve been told at times, I project my own reckless whims onto others.” Eden took a step closer, sliding his arms around the vampire’s waist. “So what do you say?” he asked with a coaxing smile, tucking back a lock of flyaway hair. “It could be our next adventure...”
He spoke each word lightly, eyes sparkling with humor, but Evander was steady as a pulse.
“I would follow you anywhere.”
The others didn’t need a bond to hear the fae’s heart quicken in his chest. He leaned closer for a kiss, flushed with excitement and possibility...then pulled suddenly back.
“Do you see that?” he asked, eyes on the horizon.
Kiera followed his gaze, only to find a stain of clouds gathering in the distance. They’d had occasional showers since leaving the port, but this was something different. It was bigger and darker, crackling with menace, and even as they looked, an icy wind filled up the sails.
“A storm is coming,” Evander said quietly.
A STORM IS COMING.
It was the understatement of the century.
Less than a minute after the friends noticed those churning clouds on the horizon, the ship was caught in a downpour of rain. The winds were soon to follow, pulling at the sails with a strength to outmatch even a giant, dragging them away from the coast in a violent flurry to the north.
It continued for two days. Two turbulent days, during which there were many moments when the friends wondered if they would make it off the ship alive. They were no longer passengers, but active participants. Lashing and re-lashing ropes that had torn free. Collecting buckets of water and throwing them back over the side. As the storm picked up speed, the air grew colder. The shrieking gusts tore at the sails with such violence, that in sheer desperation, Arsinia was forced to tear them down. They had no hope of rowing against it. The most they could do was keep upright.
Then there came a day when even that was not possible.
It happened early in the morning, when the choppy grey waves had just started to lighten with the day’s first light. Kiera forced open her eyes and staggered onto the deck like always, the handle of a bucket clenched firmly in her hand. Her arms already ached from battling ropes and pouring water. Her legs were even worse, fighting against the slippery deck for every step.
When she first glanced over the railing, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. It was like the sky and the ocean had sewn together—rising together in a single, unbroken tide.
The back of her neck prickled in fear, and she found herself shouting.
“You guys?”
They appeared beside her a moment later, blinking away the rainwater and trudging across the deck. She pointed shakily over the side, gripping onto Jesse for balance.
“What is that?”
Eden squinted into the distance before his face went still. “That is a wave,” he said quietly. “A wave that will overturn the ship.”
There was something infinitely worse about hearing bad news in a soft tone. Kiera whipped around to confirm it before turning in horror back to the sea. It was true, what the fae said. It was a wave—she could see it now. Taller than the mast, and moving gradually towards them.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
It was the worst kind of enemy. The kind you couldn’t fight, the kind you couldn’t flee. The kind that would simply smash you to bits, like so many that had come before, then drift slowly onwards. Already, the ship was tossing with it—rising up suddenly, before crashing into the surf.
“We should call for Arsinia,” Kiera said faintly.
But the giant was already moving behind them—tossing everything that was mobile down the stairs to the cabins, and lashing the rest of it to the ship. Her beady eyes had spotted the wave even sooner than the fae, but there wasn’t a trace of fear. She had been bred without it, and she’d survived such waves before. Her passengers had never been so lucky.
“We should...we should tie ourselves to the ship,” Eden stammered, though it looked as if he hated the idea. “We cannot go below deck. The cabins will surely flood.”
Jesse glanced at him in terror, streams of rainwater pouring down his face. “But the ship will break to pieces. We’d never survive such a thing.”
“It’s the only option—”
“I can see the shore,” Evander said suddenly. The others rushed to the railing, trying to see for themselves. Sure enough, there was a mark on the horizon, little more than a smudge. He turned to Eden. “It’s better to go into the water on our own terms. If we’re lucky, we can swim.”
The fae glanced over the side of the ship, then shook his head.
“Tu nas frielle,” he murmured urgently, gesturing to the mortals with a concern they didn’t understand. “Eay soaret en niice—”
“Don’t do that,” Jesse snapped, cupping his hands to be heard against the wind. “Don’t plot together like we’re children. Speak in the common tongue.”
It wasn’t the first time the fae had been given such a censure. He grimaced in apology.
“We are speaking of the temperature,” he answered, glancing over the side. “We are further north than I’ve ever ventured myself. I’m afraid the water would be too cold—”
But in that moment, it became clear they wouldn’t have a choice.
The bow of the ship dipped suddenly, as the wave headed towards them, spilling half the ocean over the side. Kiera let out a scream and pitched forward, slamming face-first into the water.
The last thing she saw was the giant caldron Arsinia had used to make the stew bouncing in cartoonish somersaults across the deck, as she and the others tumbled over the side.
WHEN KIERA WAS YOUNGER, she’d learned the fae word for cold. It was frielle. A chill that has become unbearable, the same word she’d heard Eden say to Evander only moments before. For whatever reason, it was the same word that burst from her lips the second she hit the water.
Then the noise of the storm vanished, and everything went suddenly, eerily calm.
It was not the shock of the water—that came as a surprise. It was not the tangle of bubbles, or the rush of salt pouring down her throat. It was the cold. That blinding, burning frielle that took the very breath from her lungs—locking up each muscle until she was prone as a board.
She could see—it was another surprise.
She’d imagine the world would turn to dark, for days already, those churning clouds had blocked out the sun. But bits of light still managed to pierce through. She saw when the wave rolled over them, felt the awesome pull of it. She saw the bottom of the ship. She saw when it tilted—so far that tip of the masts actually grazed the frothing water. But instead of sinking, instead of cracking up the side, it popped right back up—bobbing up and down like a cork dropped into a pond.
That was when the picture started bursting in front of her, struck with pieces of debris.
Her lips parted in a reflexive cry as they cratered into the sea around her—the door that led to the galley, a thousand pieces of shattered glass. Amidst the chaos, she caught sight of Evander sinking into the shadows beneath her. A trail of blood was streaming from his head, and his eyes were closed. She tried to kick after him, but her legs wouldn’t move. She tried to claw after him, but her arms wouldn’t move either. In desperation, she tried once more to scream. But she wasn’t the only one who’d seen the vampire. Eden was already diving after him, vanishing into the deep.
Someone help me.
Her skull was pounding, her chest was heaving. It had been too long since she’d had air. An involuntary spasm ripped through her body, and her bones cracked like ice. Things were fading, now. She was fading. It was only a matter of time before—
It started slowly, the surge of heat in her veins.
At first, she didn’t understand. It couldn’t be heat, it must be pain. Something must have scraped against her, the water was thick with such dangers. She waited for the dizziness, for the crimson cloud of blood. But nothing ever came. The heat was heat, and it was growing—kindling and gathering like the water was a mere illusion and someone had doused her in flames.
Her legs flailed out of their own accord, kicking to the top.
She didn’t know how far she was from the surface. She didn’t know how long she’d already been under. But a faint voice filtered into the silence. A second later, she broke through the waves.
“Kiera!”
Jesse’s voice cracked over the storm, wild and manic as she’d ever heard. She twisted around in a frenzy, unable to find him, but spotted him a second later, clinging to a piece of wood. With a burst of strength that was quickly fading, she paddled towards him—fighting against the waves.
“You’re all right,” she gasped, seizing onto his hands. “You’re all right.”
In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure. His face was white as she’d ever seen, and he was unable to lift himself fully from the water. It lapped around his ears, darkening with a growing pool of blood.
He nodded weakly, half in a daze.
“I’m all right,” he mumbled, scanning the waves. “Have you seen the others—”
Eden broke to the surface, holding Evander to his chest.
The vampire was still unconscious, his limbs trailing helplessly in the water, but he must have been breathing, otherwise it was likely the fae would have kept swimming into the depths. As it stood, his dark eyes swept wildly around the water, struggling to see over the top of each wave.
“We’re over here!” Kiera shouted, waving frantically.
He searched a second longer, then let out a shuddering breath when he saw them, tightening his grip on Evander and kicking through the waves. The sky was still coiled and throwing the worst it had against him. The giant wave had passed, but still tugged on everything left broken in its wake.
“Is everybody all right?” Eden shouted as he drew close. He saw the blood a moment later, paling with fear. “Jess, what—”
“I don’t remember,” the shifter panted. “I don’t remember and I can’t stay awake. We need to get to the shore. We need to—” He slipped a little further, getting a mouthful of salt.
“I’ve got you,” Kiera breathed, locking their wrists over the piece of wood. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” She squinted towards the shore, it seemed an impossible distance away. “We’re just going to make our way over there, alright? You just hang on to my hands, I’ll do the rest.”
He blinked sleepily, every hint of color leaching from his face. “I don’t...I don’t think I’m going to make it.”
“You’re going to make it,” she said fiercely, sinking her nails into his hands. The sky tore open above them, as she started kicking towards the shore.
You have to make it.
Chapter 9
There were a lot of things Kiera remembered about that day, and a lot of things she couldn’t.
The ocean was a blur—stinging salt and splashing waves, flashes of lightning spliced with the shrieking howl of the wind. There were many times she’d thought they wouldn’t make it. Many times her fingers slipped on Jesse’s wrists and the two nearly tumbled back into the sea. If the storm had caught them a few hours earlier, when the sky was still dark, there was a good chance they would have perished between the wreckage and the shore—so desperately close, yet out of reach.
But the friends and the storm were headed in different directions.
While they made their way gradually to the beach, it curved back towards the open water, following the blurry outline of the ship. No doubt Arsinia was still hurrying back and forth upon the deck, tightening lines and emptying buckets of water. From a greater distance, it looked like a fool’s errand. But the giant had been sailing for decades, and had no intention of losing her ship.
The Lost Cause.
A part of her reveled in the irony.
Once they got to the beach, things weren’t much better.
Jesse staggered onto the pebbly shore, but was unable to rise. One of his legs was dragging limp behind him, painting a wide swath of blood, and by the time he and Kiera cleared the surf, his skin had turned so frighteningly pale, he was scarcely able to stay conscious.
Evander had yet to open his eyes.
With a look of quiet panic, Eden lay him swiftly on the stones and knitted his fingers together, pressing them in short bursts into the vampire’s chest. There were a few seconds when nothing happened, then Evander rolled suddenly to the side and coughed up a river of seawater.
