Page 111 of The Isles of the Gods
Then he slams against the railing with a sound I hear even over the storm, and goes instantly still, facedown, water washing around him.
As the boat keeps tipping, he begins to roll, making no effort to stop himself, sprawling closer to the edge, closer to vanishing into the dark waves over the side.
“Go!” I scream as a wave crashes over him, and my heart clenches so hard I think it’ll stop, shocking me with the depth of my panic. Keegan’s already throwing himself across the deck. “Don’t let him fall!”
Keegan half falls himself along the deck, slamming into the railing as he grabs the prince—when he rolls Leander over in his arms, his head lolls back horribly.
He’s unconscious—or at least I pray that’s all he is. He’s utterly limp, and there’s nothing ofhimin his body—the way he holds himself is gone, and he’s a dead weight in Keegan’s arms. I want to tear myself away from the wheel, slide across the deck myself, touch him, shake him, beg him to wake up.
But with his sudden disconnection from the spirits, they’re going wild, whirling around us like a hurricane. The water spirits are panicking at his disappearance too, and below theship the swirling sea starts to heave and twist, the very waves themselves churning into a rough whirlpool.
TheEmmagroans, a shudder running through her at the pressure on her timbers, traveling up through the wheel to my hands, like she’s trying to buck free of my grip.
“Selly!” Keegan shouts. “Do something!”
“I can’t…,” I begin, but the words die on my lips.
I can feel theLittle Lizabettatipping beneath me all over again.
The heat on my face as the hallway of the inn exploded into flames.
The sick horror of finding my magic after all these years—after every failure, every dark shadow of shame, every humiliation—only to have it turn on me.
I’ve reached for the spirits twice, and both times I’ve nearly killed us.
“Selly!” Keegan screams again, his face a white blur through the breaking waves, Leander still unmoving in his arms.
TheEmmawrenches sideways, and something makes me look up as a pulley rips free of the mast and swings out at the end of its rope, slicing toward my head like a deadly weapon. I drop to my knees as it arcs just overhead, then around to tangle itself in the rigging. I brace myself against the wheel, using all my body weight to keep us from surrendering to the whirlpool forming around us.
I have to try.
Both times I’ve reached for the spirits, I tried to give them orders, tried to direct them to my will—it’s what I’ve tried to do with everything, everyone, all my life.
I used to be so sure of everything I knew. But now all Iknow is that the world is vast. And like this ship, I’m a tiny speck in it.
That’s what Rensa was trying to show me—I’m just one part of something far larger, and there’s no weakness in that. Only strength.
I dig in my pocket and pull out the little paper boat. This has to be a real sacrifice, and this little boat is the only thing I own that means enough to me.
It’s a gift from a boy who could give me enough gold and jewels to fill my father’s fleet, but gave me something priceless, instead—a piece of himself. It’s a promise to send me back to the place I love most, even when he wanted to keep me by hisside.
It’s a gift that honors who I am, not who he wishes I could be. It’s him believing in me, even when I haven’t believed in myself.
At first I can’t seem to make my freezing cold fingers let it go, and my hand trembles as I stare at it like it belongs to someone else.
Then suddenly my fingers open, and the fragile little boat is whipped away on the wind in an instant, vanishing into nothingness.
Vaguely I sense I’m still holding the wheel, but I’m already slipping into the headspace Leander showed me.
Please,I beg the spirits, asking now, not commanding.Please.
And then I see them. Panic rips through me—howmanyof them was he charming at once? I can’t possibly—how do I—it’s like ten thousand fireflies are whirling around me on the wind, angry, chaotic, their companion suddenly vanished.
I force myself to go slowly. I humble myself as the wavescrash over me. I show them how they can help us if they’re willing—how to flow over the fabric of the sail and push the boat forward.
The mainsail splits further, the ragged edges immediately pulled to pieces, and the spirits dance in and around it, barely seeming to hear me.
In desperation, I throw myself so far into the connection, I don’t know if there’s a way back.
