Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I nod at Bowen. “I’ll fill the sails. You get us there.”
He takes up position at the helm, wrapping his big hands around the spokes of the wheel with something akin to reverence. Through all his time on the Audacity, I’ve never picked up on even a whiff of ambition, but it’s clear he misses being captain. If we survive this, there will be plenty of ships available for use. Maybe even his former one, the Crimson Hag.
There’s no time to waste. I walk to a good spot at the stern and slowly draw the wind streams to us. Just enough to fill the sails as we turn for open sea. We can’t see Lyari yet, but with my magic creating superficial perfect sailing conditions, we’ll reach it late tonight.
It’s an hour or two later when Siobhan comes to stand next to me. I’ve worked up a light sweat, but it’s a naturally windy day, so I’m using a lot less energy than I would otherwise. I don’t have to generate the wind from nothing, just nudge it in the right direction.
She doesn’t speak for a long time, and I give her the gift of silence. Maybe I should be like Bastian, demanding answers, but I’ve sailed with the Cŵn Annwn—and the rebellion, for that matter—long enough to realize that acceptable losses, no matter how much I hate them, are acceptable for a reason. There’s a decent chance none of us survive what comes next. I can’t let the fear of losing someone—of losing myself—stop us. Too much hangs in the balance.
Finally, Siobhan says, “Bastian’s not wrong.”
A shiver goes down my spine. For all my rationalizing, my immediate response takes me by surprise. “You are not going to Lyari to die.”
Siobhan huffs out a raw laugh. “No, Nox, I’m not going to Lyari to die.”
Her words do little to reassure me. I glance at her quickly before turning my attention back to the sails. It takes no effort at all to read into what she isn’t saying. “But you don’t think you’ll be with us afterward.”
Her breath hitches, but when she speaks, her voice is perfectly even and contains an edge I’ve never heard before. A noble’s accent, each syllable so crisp I want to sink my teeth into them. “There will be work to do after the rot is purged. I won’t be able to travel around with your merry band of sailors and indulge in a life of…whatever your plans are. If this is handled poorly, then we’ll end up with a worse situation than we have now. We need clear leadership.”
This time, I stare. It’s foolish to forget where she came from, to ignore the fact that she was heir before her sister killed their parents and attempted to kill her, too. Even so, she’s never pulled that shit in all the time I’ve known her. “And you’re the leadership we need. Siobhan, the noble Cŵn Annwn, who will lead all of Threshold into a new future.”
She lifts her chin. “Who else?”
My old anger surges forth, the still-healing wound of a young person who lost their love to responsibility tied to his noble blood. But I’m not that child any longer. I’ve lived too many years and seen too many things to let a broken heart confuse reality. I narrow my eyes. “Are you telling me that you intend to set yourself up as queen and savior of Threshold?”
“Of course.” She’s much better at lying than Bastian is, though that’s not saying much. They’re both terrible at it.
I shake my head. “If you don’t want a future with me, Siobhan, all you have to do is say so. No matter my feelings, I won’t tie you up in knots and demand you stay if that’s not what you want—but don’t bullshit me about playing queen when I can see the very idea practically gives you hives.”
“Nox.” Her breath shudders out and she turns away, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re not making this easy.”
“I’m not trying to.” I urge a little more wind into our sails, making the deck jerk beneath our feet and Siobhan curse as she bumps into the railing. With a curse of my own, I ease just enough that we’re traveling smoothly. “You know, most sailors think it’s bad luck to talk about the future before a fight.”
She glances over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah?”
No. I’m lying through my teeth. But the thread of hope in her expression is enough to keep the lies spilling. “Yeah. Distracts you, makes you focus on the after instead of the now, which is a good way to get killed. Whatever it is you’re grappling with, we’ll deal with it after we blow this damn horn and save Threshold.”
It’s impossible to read Siobhan’s expression. There’s so much emotion in her honeyed eyes that it threatens to drown me. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse with things unsaid. “I love you.”