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I dive for Beth, pulling her into my arms as the wave hits and swamps the boat. It flips, pummeled by the water, and dumps its occupants into the angry water.
We sink, the boat floating above us like a taunt. I kick out for Beth and yank on the tether between us. She claws at the water, her hair plastered to her head, eyes wide, panic in every one of her movements. Her terror quakes down the tenuous bond as I grab her and kick hard to the surface. Another bolt of lightning shows an oar just above us, the boat already too far away to be of any help.
As we surface, Beth sputters and tries to climb on top of me, her nails digging into my back, waking the feral at the worst possible time.
“Calm down, changeling!” I try to yell over the wind, the rain, and the pounding sea, but it doesn’t get through. She’s too frightened.
“I can’t swim!” Her gasp is desperate, her arms flailing wildly.
I reach for the oar and barely manage to touch it with my fingertips as Beth pushes me down, her struggle to survive filling her mind and overriding reason. I take a deep breath and let her sit atop me for a few moments, then dart away and grab the oar. She shrieks as she sinks again, but I pull her back up and push the oar into her arms.
“Hang on to it,” I yell. “Kick your feet to tread water.”
She coughs and hugs it tight, the wood only buoyant enough to keep her head above water.
I turn just in time to see another gigantic wave cresting down onto us, and I pull her and the oar close as the deluge hits like a load of stone. My back takes the brunt, but Beth is sputtering again.
We won’t last out here much longer. I spin in the water. My sense of direction is utterly lost, but I know land can’t be far. Another wave builds. I hold onto her arm.
“Don’t let me go. Please don’t,” she begs.
I have half a mind to force her to agree to go to the winter realm in exchange for saving her from drowning, but honor forbids me from voicing the idea. That and the growl of the feral, who wants nothing more than to drag her onto the sand and claim her in the throes of the tempest.
We ride the wave. Up, up, up. At the crest, I can see the dark outline of the shore. It’ll be a hard swim, but I won’t give up. Not when my mate is in danger. She can ride my corpse to safety if she has to.
I maneuver her onto my back, her hands gripping too tightly around my neck. But she lets go of the oar, and I hold it out in front of me like a weapon as I kick hard toward the waiting sand. Waves continue to build and heave onto us, some cresting over us, some blessedly waiting to hit the shallows before falling forward, the white foam piled high until another wave follows.
“We’re going to die.” She shivers even though the water is warm.
“I’ve got you.” I kick harder, even though my muscles ache, my heart hammers, and I burn through every bit of energy I have, leaving nothing behind. A hard, crashing wave rips the oar from my grip, and I struggle to keep my head above water. She doesn’t let go, clinging to me even as my strength begins to fade, another crashing load of water dragging us down as lightning continues to streak, the waves continue to roll, and the gale never stops blowing.
15
Beth
The incessant rhythm of the sea wakes me, the salty air dry on my parched lips. Gentle waves lap at my legs, the glittering sea greeting me as I open my eyes.
Treacherous water. With a cry, I scurry back and bump into a log. Whirling, I find it’s not a log. It’s a fae warrior face-down in the sand.
“Gareth!”
He turns his head. “Mmph.”
My heart returns to a regular rhythm, and I lie back beside him. “That was a close one.”
He squints one eye open at me.
I stretch my arms over my head and soak in the rays of sun. “Thank the Ancestors I turned out to be a naturally strong swimmer.”
His groan prompts a smile to my lips.
We lie there for a while. Just breathing. Being alive. Wondering why the Ocean of Storms is such a peaceful place one minute and then an un-ironically named nightmare the next.
“I suppose from here we can just follow the coast for a while.” I peer down the light pink beach where a swath of jungle greenery encroaches.
Climbing to his knees, he swipes the sand from his face. “That’s your plan?” He shades his eyes from the sun, then grabs me under my arms and pulls me.
“Hey!”
Once we’re in the shade of an overhanging tree, he lets go and plops onto the ground beside me. “You’ll burn,” he says grumpily.
“I’m fine.” I poke at my arm where it’s already turning pink.
“No mate of mine will suffer a sunburn. Not even in this Ancestors-forsaken land.” He pulls the shirt from his back and drapes it over me like a billowing tent. At least it smells better now.
“What about you?” I eye his broad chest and swallow hard. His body is strong and lithe, a fighter through and through. He wears his scars like decorations, some of them jagged, others neat and clean.
“I can heal.” He shrugs and casts a long look at the greenery behind us—the trees gnarled from the ocean winds and vines overhead like a laundry line of snakes hung out to dry. “Beyond this stretch of jungle lies the Sea of Sand. South of that, the Abyss, and only after days of treacherous travel there, would we reach the mines.”
“That’s not so bad.”
He turns his stern gaze to me. “We have no food, water, or coin.”
“Sounds like home.” I stand and dust off the sand. “Maybe you’re used to having all three things in abundance. I’m not. So, this is me at baseline. I can only go up from here.”
“Beth.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle. “I know you want to help your fellow changeling, but do you truly think she’d want you to die trying to save her?”
“I don’t think she’d want me to die, but—”
“We should go to the winter realm, and from there, Leander can send a contingent of warriors to the mines to look for her.”
“She won’t last that long.” My brows furrow. “She’s too old.”
“And you’re too fragile.” He rubs his hand down my upper arm. “You’ve lost more weight.”
Maybe he’s right and this is a death sentence for me. But I can’t leave Clotty. I won’t.
He must see me hardening my resolve because he drops his hand. “Why can’t you see this is a fool’s journey?”
My ire sparks. “Who’s the bigger fool, eh? Me? Or the high fae who thinks I’m his mate? The one who’s willing to go with me to the mines?”
He grips my waist and pulls me to him so quickly that I squeak a little. “I would follow you to the Spires. Nothing will come between us.”
I can’t seem to form words when he’s pressing against me like this. “Gareth—”
His answering growl is low and feral as he leans down, his lips a whisper away from mine. “You will be the death of me, changeling.”
I twine my arms around his neck. “Maybe. Dying with me would be like a new, fun exploit.”
“You have a perverse sense of adventure.” He nips at my lower lip, then kisses me hard and full, his tongue delving into my mouth as my knees go weak. How can a fae as uptight as Gareth kiss me with a recklessness that takes my breath away? His tongue is wicked, his hands roving my backside. I want to climb him like a tree and hump his trunk.
