“Don’t worry, you’ll get your sea legs soon enough.” He drew up beside her, already dressed in his battle gear. “How is Samson?”
Devastated, she thought.
“Recovering,” she said. “How far are we from the pit?”
“Two days’ sailing,” Daz said. “I should warn you, the pit is a strange and horrible place. It plays tricks on you. Makes you see things, hear things—”
“I’ll be fine.”
Daz studied her quietly and then, in a gentle voice, said, “It is okay to grieve, little queen.”
She snapped back, as if hit. “I—I know.”
“The Sesharians will forgive you. Once you free them, once Seshar is its own nation again, they will welcome you with open arms.”
But his assurances felt like stones, each hitting their mark. How could she tell him her only objective, heronlykingdom, was—could onlybe—Ravence? She could not stand to owe Samson and therefore Seshar anything.
But she had heard their screams. She had seen the wild horror in their eyes as the Black Scales fell into the traps and were carted off like cattle for slaughter. They were not her people, not truly, but she felt the grave injustice of it as if they were her own. And the thought of Chandi, of Akiri, of all the others trapped without escape, without hope, brought a fire into her ribs that hurt more than her guilt. And yet.
“I—” she began. She almost wanted to tell him the truth. That she couldn’t fight two wars. That Seshar needed Samson, and that by killing him, she would be responsible for its destruction. It sat there, heavy on her tongue, and Daz waited patiently. But Elena swallowed it, just as she had swallowed her ache, her shame, and gripped the rails tighter. “I think Seshar will endure. They—they’re a brave people.”
“I will fight to get your soldiers freed.”
Elena nodded, trying not to wince when he said they werehersoldiers. “When Bresingi said ‘Remember your place,’ what did he mean?”
Daz winced. “The Ayoni made these ships only because they were contracted under my sister’s rule. They do not… approve of my revolution. But they will come around, in time.” His voice hardened. “They will learn to answer to me.”
Elena watched him warily, struck by the sudden darkness in his expression. He would make a terrible enemy, if he were not on her side. Perhaps it was a play of the starlight, or the churning of the waves, but she felt a sickness worming up her stomach.They will learn to answer to me.She was surrounded by tyrants. Each as selfish and greedy as the last, each vying for power. She needed only to prove that her hunger ran deeper, crueler, and more vicious, and perhaps she and Ravence would survive.
“They all will,” she whispered. “Even Farin.”
His eyes narrowed into a slow smile. “Let us hunt well, then, little queen.”
CHAPTER 42
SAMSON
Do not grieve, my son. It does not do well to dwell on the past when the sea is ever-changing. Endure. The Great Serpent waits for us to bring justice in tow.
—fromThe Lament of Seshar: A People’s History
The night bled into the dark sea so that Samson could not tell where the sky ended and the sea began. Before him, the world lay thick and opaque. Full of unknowing. The abyss stared, but Samson could feel it already gnawing its way within him, carving a hole full of—nothing.
Samson Ruru Kytuu, for once, felt nothing.
He had already swallowed his tears until they burned to numbness. He listened to the susurration of the sea until he could no longer hear Chandi’s scream. His grief, which had felt so enormous, so overwhelming, was now a cold, wet thing.
He stared bleakly at his reflection and the black waves beyond. Within the hour, they would arrive at the pit. He knew he should get up. He knew he had to leave this room, but all Samson could see was the pitwaiting, ready to unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole should he fail. He reached for his Agni and felt its small, uneven edges.
Was this what his mother had warned him of? That his fire, his curse, would eat him up until he was an empty husk of a man, powerful and brutal, yet withered and hollow? Alone in his power. Alone in his misery.
Someone touched his shoulder. Samson turned.
Elena stood behind his chair, her hands pressing into his shoulders, holding him down, holding him in place. Her hands were firm.Full.She was not empty like him. Her Agni, so bright and sharp, flickered in his mind’s eye, beating back the abyss.
I am here, it said.I exist.
Before, he had been jealous of her Agni’s abundance, but now he latched on to it with tired relief, leaning into her hands and basking in her warmth.
