Page 130 of The Isles of the Gods
TheEmma
Kirkpool, Alinor
I can see the way the spirits swarm around Leander, fighting to be near him.
He’s been touched by a goddess, and though he’s slowly been coming back to himself aboard theEmma,the boy who stands beside me at the wheel now isn’t the one I knew before.
His eyes have returned to normal—though they’ve shifted from brown to emerald green—but he winces away from the light, shudders at the slightest sound, the slightest movement. He’s been rubbed raw, and every part of the world hurts him. Sometimes he barely seems to know where he is, or that I’m there at all. Unless I try to leave his side—then he grabs for my hand, stumbles after me, as though the distance between us causes him pain as well.
On theLittle Lizabetta,on our way into Port Naranda, Keegan told me about Messengers. He told me they tend to disappear from the history books shortly after they arrive—that thehere-and-gone-again of them is why most people doubt they existed. But now I think I can see what happens, and I refuse to let it happen to my prince.
Wherever I am, Leander is too now—even if he gazes straight through me half the time. The quick, easy smile that made me feel like I was standing in the sun has gone, but some part of him still seems to know me. He’s calmer when he holds my hand, and I can sense the energy humming between us. It’s not just magic. It’s more.
I’m anchoring him in place, and both of us can feel it.
He hasn’t eaten in the days since we boarded our little fishing boat. He hasn’t slept either. I don’t think he needs to anymore.
Keegan and I worked together as best we could to turn theEmmatoward Alinor and set her course, but the wind and water spirits have carried us along so effortlessly that, in truth, we’ve barely needed to do more than trim our sails.
Mostly we stay on deck together, me at the wheel, Keegan nearby, and Leander always at my side. He doesn’t even leave me when I sleep. He just lies there with me, crammed into the narrow bunk, his body curled around mine.
Sometimes I wake from strange, disjointed dreams, sure we spoke, but unable to remember our conversations. Other times I have nightmares, and see snatches of what torments him, though they’re gone as soon as I open my eyes, drifting away like dust.
I want so badly to hear his voice. I want him to blink awake, to suddenly look across at me and laugh, himself again.
But though each day he seems a little more aware of his surroundings, and though he rarely lets go of my hand, theperson I want to comfort me most in all the world simply isn’t there.
—
We’re a league from the harbor entrance at Kirkpool when we spot the flotilla on the horizon. The decks are crowded with bodies. Flags flutter from every mast.
A shiver of fear runs through me, but Keegan pulls the eyeglass from the bag beside the wheel, steadying himself effortlessly as he lifts it. He gazes through it, then wordlessly hands it across to me, his expression pensive.
This isn’t an army coming to greet us. Every ship is packed with figures waving, many of them climbing up their masts to see us better. Every ship has an Alinorish flag hoisted high.
“Are they all for us?” I ask, my gut tightening with nerves.
“They seem to have known we were coming,” Keegan replies, thoughtful. “Barrica is stronger than she has been in centuries. Perhaps she spoke to them, as she used to before the war, or sent them a sign.”
“You think they know he’s…” I can barely say it, glancing across to where Leander stands beside me, his eyes closed, his face turned into the wind.
A Messenger.
But he’s more than that to me. More than the prince of Alinor. More than a Messenger of a goddess, a boy who survived death.
More than any of that, he’s still just Leander.
I hope.
LASKIA
TheMermaid
The Crescent Sea
I can feel Macean as he stirs in his slumber.
It’s like a roll of thunder on the horizon, and the very fact that I can sense the storm so far away is a warning as to just how loud it will be when he finally turns his full attention my way.
