1 arwen I''m going to be sick again," warned Ryder as he hung his head over the wet steel edge of the ship. Angry droplets of rain pelted us both as I rubbed soothing circles into the damp fabric clinging to my brother''s back. "I''m here," I said, trying to send lighte into his knotted stomach. I waited, and waited some more, until I couldn''t help but tense my fingers against the void I felt where my lighte should have regenerated days ago. Nothing. Still nothing. Ryder retched into the churning sea below us. In the ten days since the battle of Siren''s Bay, I had healed the entire ship of all their wounds without my power.
The injuries inflicted by Lazarus''s army, burns singed and gashes slashed by both lighte and Fae weapons, were more damaging to the Onyx and Peridot soldiers than any mortal steel. It had been the most taxing work I''d ever done. And all the while, elbow-deep in bandages and sickly, fevered sweat, I tried to grieve. We had held a small, makeshift funeral for her-the woman I had always thought was my mother. Against the rhythmic creaking of ropes and the quiet flapping of sails, the unscathed soldiers aboard had lowered her body into the sea beneath us. I said a few words, all of which felt flat and foreign in my mouth. Mari sang a hymn. Ryder cried.
Leigh didn''t look at any of us, and then slunk into our cabin belowdecks before we even finished. It had been awful. Kane had asked if he could join us. I believe his words were, "I''d like to be there for you, if you''ll let me." As if his presence might have somehow made me feel better, instead of infinitely, infinitely worse. I hadn''t wanted him anywhere near my family. Or what had been left of them. Then, the storm came.
A thunderous assault of rain, with waves that sloshed against the ship like battering rams. It raged and raged throughout our entire journey. Those who sought even a minute''s reprieve from stale cabin air were immediately soaked in a frigid deluge. Yesterday the captain had rationed the ship''s coals, leaving us without hot water. I already couldn''t stomach any more lukewarm porridge. I looked down at my fingers on Ryder''s back. They were eternally pruned, like little raisins. He heaved again, and down the bow a couple feet, a Peridot woman in a weather-beaten wool cloak followed suit.
Though I was lucky not to suffer from seasickness, the same couldn''t be said for the rest of the passengers. The stomach-turning sounds of retching echoed at all hours of the day and night. I offered care to whomever I could, but without my lighte there wasn''t much to do. I hadn''t offered any help to Kane, though. I''d watched him climb a rickety set of stairs with ease a single day after being pierced through the chest by a spear of ice. He''d scaled them two at a time-nimble, strong, lively even. And yet, he had needed me to heal him so critically that day in the Shadowhold infirmary? All lies. More and more lies.
My head swam with them. I waited for the instinctual rush of fear to ripple through me when I thought of the fate he''d kept from me all those months. The prophecy that foretold my death at Kane''s own father''s hands. But I felt nothing. I had felt nothing for days. After a lifetime of too much fear and tears and worry-now I couldn''t muster anything at all. With one final dry heave, Ryder slumped down against the metal and sucked in a deep breath. "That has to be the last of it.
There''s nothing left in my stomach to vomit up." I frowned. "A lovely mental image." His answering smile was weak. But in my mind a memory was unfurling. One of a slow autumn evening-silent save for the sounds of wind rustling among the weeds outside my home. I''d been sick after eating something moldy-Powell''s leave no scrap behind mentality at work-and my mother had rubbed my back in steady sweeps, calming me as I purged. I could have healed myself then, but chose not to.
I liked how it felt to have her comfort me. I liked her hand on my shoulder, her quieting words. Leigh had been born recently, and both Ryder and I missed being the sole objects of her affection. It was such a selfish, childish thing to do. To retch for an hour rather than heal my own illness just to keep her by my side in the chilly evening air, away from her new baby, husband, and son. But it felt so good to be cared for. And now- Now I fell asleep every night wondering who the woman even was. Had she found me on the road one day? Had someone forced her to raise me? And if so, where in the world were my real parents? They were both full-blooded Fae, so most likely living in another realm.
A melting one of parched earth and ash, governed by a tyrant- "Feeling any better?" My attention snapped to Mari, wandering over wrapped in a thick fur cloak. She''d raided the ship on our first night and somehow found the most fashionable pieces aboard. But even her elegant new pelt couldn''t hide the way her copper hair clung in wet ringlets to her face or the icy drops that showered her nose and near-blue lips. At the sight of her, Ryder straightened and folded his hands confidently across his chest. "Right as this rain. Barely even sick." He inclined his head toward the Peridot woman still heaving down the deck. "It''s all these other folk I feel sorry for.
" "He vomited the entire contents of his stomach out and then some," I said to Mari. Ryder glared at me, and Mari gave him a compassionate frown. "Sorry to hear it. This storm is unrelenting." "Yeah, well-" We sailed over another swell and Ryder turned pale, clutching at his stomach. "I . I am going to go talk to someone about that. Right now.
" He dashed for the other end of the ship and out of eyesight. Mari lifted a brow at me. "Talk to someone . about the storm?" I shook my head. "He''s too proud." "I think it''s sweet that he''s embarrassed. Here." She produced a small glass vial from her skirts.
"Give him this. It''s Steel of the Stomach." "Isn''t that potion used for undertakers?" After I''d read the book on flower species I got from the Peridot library twice, I had started working through Mari''s grimoires out of sheer boredom. She didn''t have much use for them anymore anyway. Not now that she had the amulet. I didn''t blame her. Mari never learned to wield her magic properly after her mother, the only living witch in her family, had died in childbirth. The necklace that we stole from Kane''s study, the one that belonged to Briar Creighton, the supposed most powerful witch of all time, allowed her to harness her power-and quite a bit of it.
Now she did magic whenever and however she pleased. And the amulet never left her neck. Mari shrugged, pawing absently at the violet charm as it hung below her collarbone. "I figured it might help him. It was easy to brew." The only issue was that she wasn''t actually pulling any power from Briar or her lineage. I replayed the moment in which Kane told me the amulet was merely a trinket-that all the spells Mari cast with such ease these days were her own-and fished for guilt. I owed her the truth, but I only found a well of apathy where my ethics used to be.
I didn''t want to lie to her, but- But I just didn''t have the energy. "Have you talked to Kane at all today?" she asked, gripping the slick bow as the ship pitched over another uneasy wave. I sighed, a long and thorough noise. Another thing I couldn''t bring myself to do. "No." "What if there''s another way? Hadn''t he said as much?" He had, the last time we spoke. After the battle. After my mother''s death.
After my outburst of power and butchery. Kane had said he was willing to let the entire continent fall to Lazarus to save me from my death sentence. To help me live my life in peace. But what kind of "peace" could I find knowing how many would suffer at Lazarus''s hands because I was holed away in some idyllic city, nameless and hiding from my fate? "There''s nothing he can help me do but run." Mari pursed her lips. "Perhaps but . He knows more about this prophecy than anyone. Can''t you try to have a little hope?" "I just need off this boat," I said, staring up into the heavy, rumbling storm clouds above.
"I know." She sighed. "This journey has been miserable." But I wasn''t thinking of the rain or the cold or the vomiting. Only getting Leigh and Ryder safely to Citrine, and myself as far from Kane as possible. Somewhere I could be alone until I was needed. A sacrificial lamb, awaiting slaughter. So I stayed silent as the rain battered my face, searching my heart for an ache, for hope, for even a trill of fear at the thought of my horrific future.
But I found nothing. I missed my mother. I wanted to go home. I wanted to sleep for a long, long time. "Why won''t anyone tell us what awaits us in Citrine?" I hadn''t talked to many people the last ten days, but the lieutenants and nobles that were on the ship with us had been very tight-lipped about the secretive kingdom. All we were told was that it was impossible to breach, and therefore about as safe from Lazarus as we could get. Mari shrugged. "All the texts I''ve come across just say it''s hard to access.
On most maps it''s either floating in the.