Page 39 of The Isles of the Gods
I am grateful for you.
A sailor comes jogging toward us. “The captain says they’ve turned away, ma’am,” he says to Sister Beris, pointing in the direction of the ship we spotted. “They know we’re coming forthem.”
“Can we catch them?” she asks.
“Given enough time,” he replies. “But it’ll add at least aday.”
“We can’t have them telling anyone what they saw,” she says, turning to me.
I gaze back at her, my heart pushing against my ribs.
Another ship. More death.
But I’ve come this far.
I’ve fought with everything I have, for Macean’s rise and my own. And now both those things are within my grasp. My god and I are both so close to claiming the power that should be ours.
The memories flash before my eyes again—a girl swimming frantically away from fire, her dress weighing her down. A boy sprawling dead on the deck, staring at the sky.
My gut squirms with horror, and I close the door on whatI’ve seen, forcing those images away. It’s done. I have to make it worth the cost.
I glance at the sailor, who’s watching me with the wary respect they all have now. “Tell the captain to keep going,” I say, my voice firming up, hardening as I speak. “Hunt them down.”
KEEGAN
TheLizabetta
The Crescent Sea
The crew is swarming up the rigging, releasing the ties on bundles of sails I hadn’t even noticed before. The canvas thunders as it unrolls, cracking as it catches the wind.
TheLizabettagathers herself for a moment, prancing on the spot in response to the increase in power, then surges down the next wave like a charging horse.
With a curse, Captain Rensa clings to the wheel, gesturing wildly to one side. “There, the ropes!” she shouts.
There are thick cords tied to the rail around the edge of the deck, and I lunge for one, pulling it toward her.
“Other side!” she bellows, and Leander appears and grabs at the second rope.
Selly’s sprinting for the mast to help her crewmates as I haul on mine. The rope is rough on my palms, heavier than I expected, and I struggle to pull it across—then the first mate,Kyri, arrives, auburn braid swinging as she grabs the cord from my hands and finishes the job.
The captain’s spinning the ship’s huge wheel, and Kyri loops the ropes onto it, to help keep theLizabettafrom veering off course as she surfs down the waves.
“Do we have any chance of outrunning a steamer?” Leander asks, panting.
“We’re going to try,” the captain replies with a grunt. “We’re badly overpowered for this wind, carrying far too much sail, but it’ll add speed. If theLizabettadoesn’t pull herself apart or nosedive through a wave, we might. She’s fast.”
“What happens if she nosedives through a wave?” I ask, my stomach clenching.
“She stops suddenly, and her masts keep going. Now get below and look through your clothes, Scholar. Find something plainer for the prince to wear. He can’t look like that if we’re boarded.”
Leander hasn’t taken his eyes off the black smoke on the horizon, an ugly smear against the clear blue of the sky. It doesn’t look as though he’s heard a word she said.
“Your Highness?” I prompt him, already mentally inventorying my shirts and trousers, my mind seizing on this one problem of a size I can solve.
“It should have been me,” he says quietly. When he turns to face us, his expression is hollow. I saw him every day for years at school—laughing, or smiling, or teasing. I’ve never seen him look like this.
“Good news for everyone that it wasn’t you,” Rensa replies shortly.
