Page 91 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

By the end of this, maybe she really would get what she deserved.

Part IV

The Source

Twenty-Two

EBUL UNFURLED LIKE Awar banner, all sun-scorched hills and gravelly soil. What tenacious blooms remained in the tulip fields waved against dry, golden fields. The few settlements they passed were small, the people hard-eyed and thin as they watched thePrinzessinpass. Here, Lorelei thought, was the royal family’s legacy.

As they sailed, Adelheid stood at the bow like a figurehead, her eyes set against the rising sun. She cut an imposing silhouette, her broad shoulders draped in a cloak of white and her yellow hair woven severely around her temples like a diadem. Johann trailed her, her ever-present shadow. Heike wandered the ship like a sleepwalker. At the very least, her hostility toward Lorelei had abated. They circled around each other almost apologetically.

According to Johann, Ludwig’s fever had broken at last and his breathing came easier. It seemed there was nothing to be done for the bark that had grown on his neck. Each time Johann attempted to chip it off, the wound wept sap and scabbed over with cork. No doubt when heawoke—assumingAdelheid let him off this shipalive—hewould delight in conducting some botanical study of himself.

Sylvia, Lorelei had not seen at all. It was better that way.

They dropped anchor where the river opened into the Little Sea. Four islands crested from its waters like the sleek coils of a lindworm. For the first time in nearly two weeks, the engine fell silent and thesmokestacks sighed out one last stream of exhaust. By some miracle, they had made it just in time.

Lorelei climbed to the observation deck and waited. Over the hours, the sun died slowly. It bled its light into the sea and stained the sky with striated bands of orange and purple. When it finally dipped beneath the horizon, it left the sky in complete, obliterating darkness. Her breath quickened with anticipation. The new moon hovered above her, outlined faintly in silver.

In the distance, the mist billowed. Then, the fifth island appeared.

She could almost convince herself she’d imagined it. It was a flicker of shadow, then a silhouette, then an imposing mass leering out of the gloom. The Vanishing Isle looked exactly as it had in her vision: like a bad omen.

She curled her fingers around the railing and leaned over the edge. Pain shot through her palms, chased by a crawling numbness along the inside of her arm. Yesterday, she’d dared to ask Johann if the mobility in her hands would recover, and the look he’d given her was almost affronted.There’s no guarantee with injuries like this.

She had tried to make her peace with it, mostly by refusing to think of it at all. Even if she survived this ordeal, she’d never properly hold a pen again. What that meant for her career did not bear dwelling on. It was a fitting enough punishment for what she’d done.

Dark shapes moved sinuously beneath the water. Every now and again, she caught a glimpse of a finned tail, a flash of iridescent scales, or solid black eyes. None of them had sung, but something about them, weaving in and out of sight, made her consider diving in to pursue them. The others hadopted—perhapswisely—toremain inside, safe behind their wards and thick ash-wood doors. Lorelei wore iron around her neck, on her cufflinks, and on all the buttons of her heavy greatcoat. As soon as the ship made landfall, the true danger would begin. Until then, she wanted to feel the wind against her face. She wanted to be alone.

As they drew closer to the Vanishing Isle, her skin prickled with unease. The air hung heavy and impossibly still, as though the entireisland began holding its breath the moment they laid eyes on it. The bottom of the boat scraped rock, and the gangplankthunkedominously into the muddy shallows.

It was time to finish this.

The remains of their party gathered on the deck, grim-faced and weary in the dark. A group of deckhands worked to drag thePrinzessininto the shallows and tether her to the shore. If the legends held true, the island would vanish again in the light of dawn. Lorelei had no doubt they’d be here longer than that, and she did not want to have to swim when theyleft—ortrack down a new ship. Assuming, of course, theycouldleave before it reappeared God-knew-where next month. They’d stocked up on supplies in case its magic trapped them here. The weight of Lorelei’s heavy pack bit painfully into her shoulders.

“Well, then,” Lorelei said. “Let’s go.”

She led their trudge down the gangplank. As Lorelei made her way onto the shore, faint glimmers in the water snagged at her attention. She resolutely ignored them. Something about the way the water eddied here sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Heike stepped off next, clutching the silver charm around her throat with a white-knuckled pressure. Adelheid followed close behind, surveying their surroundings warily. Last was Johann, dragging Sylvia along like a willful horse.

Her wrists were bound behind her with coarse rope. Lorelei hated it, the unnecessary brutality of that knot. Most of all, she hated how battered Sylvia looked, with her ruined hair and the bruises mottling the side of her face. Despite her wounds, Sylvia carried herself with prideful defiance, her shoulders drawn back and her chin held high. Just then, Sylvia raised her eyes to Lorelei’s. The hatred burning within them struck her with force. She tore her gaze away.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

The chorus of her ghosts’ voices were painfully loud and horribly urgent. She bit down on the desire to tell them exactly what she thought of them. She needed no assistance to punish herself.

Heike ducked beneath the heavy limb of a tree with a look of vague disgust. It dripped with round, peculiar fruits that had fissured to reveal a seam of rather noxious blue within. The flesh glittered with concentrated aether. Lorelei hated that her first thought was to wonder what would happen if she took a bite.

God help her. Dead or alive, Sylvia would never let her go.

“So,” Heike said. “Where to?”

Sylvia spoke without hesitation. Her voice rasped fromdisuse—orperhaps overuse. “First, we’ll need to find a river. If the Ursprung is here, all we need to do is follow it upstream to its source.”

No one objected, and with that, they set off in silence.

Johann and Sylvia headed up the group. He clutched her lead in one hand and her strange fey lantern in the other. They walked until they found a narrow stream, its surface glittering like broken glass in the dark.