The craggy spires of Baev’kalath, rising like black teeth from the ocean.
The storm lashes harder as we near, as if the sea itself is trying to tear us away from our destination.
Waves crash against the hull, spilling over the deck in surging sheets. Rain comes sideways, pelting the wood and soaking through cloaks and skin.The Shattered Edgegroans under the strain, her masts swaying, ropes creaking in protest.
“Shorten the sails!” I bellow over the roar. “Don’t give the wind more to tear.”
Reon and Orios sprint, slick with spray, yanking wet canvas down and binding it tight against the yards. Zyphoro and Solena lash barrels to the rails so they won’t become rolling battering rams while I haul at the wheel. It fights like an angry beast, trying to wrench from my grip whenever a wave strikes us broadside.
The ship bucks, corkscrews. Boards shriek. Another wave smashes across the deck, knee-deep and frigid, but the crew cling on, faces set, pulling lines tighter, hammering in fresh wedges, dumping water by the barrelful back into the roaring sea.
I plant both hands on the wheel. My shoulders burn, my palms slip, but I will not let the storm turn us aside. Not with home so close.
Amara is below deck with our daughter, under Ashen’s constant, watchful gaze. I can only hope they’re not being thrown around too violently down there until, of course, the gods decide to punish me further.
She appears.
Soaked through in seconds, rain clinging to her like silk, her hair plastered to her face, her jaw set like iron.
Exactly where I want her least.
Exactly where I want her most.
I bare my teeth. “Amara. Below. Now.”
She lifts her chin, blinking through the deluge. “I can help. What do you need?”
“I need you out of the damn way!” I snap. “Back to the cabin!”
But it’s like throwing kindling on fire. Her eyes flash, a wildfire glare that could cut through steel, and she charges straight into the chaos, heading for Zyphoro as she fights the ropes.
“Amara!” I roar again, but the storm swallows her name.
My canines lengthen.
“Orios!” I bellow, turning toward the mast.
He hears me. Even through the thunder and the scream of the wind. His wings burst from his back, feathers buffeted by the gale as he pushes into the sky, lands hard at the wheel, and folds them away with a crackle of rune-light and for a brief second I’m reminded of how much I miss my own wings.
“Hold her steady,” I bark. “Don’t let her veer.”
Orios nods and takes the wheel. I leap from the helm and charge across the slick deck. Water surges underfoot, thunder cracks overhead, and lightning casts her in stark flashes, head bowed, hands on rope, the line of her back tight with fury and defiance.
She doesn’t see me coming.
I grab her around the waist and lift her, furious and writhing, hauling her back toward the cabin. Her voice shrieks over the rain.
“Put me down, Daedalus! Right now!”
I don’t. I carry her as if she’s nothing.
“You’ll regret this, I swear it!” she screams, rage thick in her throat.
Still, I ignore her. She’s taught me well.
I kick the cabin door open and slam it behind us. Inside, the lanterns flicker wildly, casting half-shadows across the ink-stained table and swinging maps. I set her down hard. She’s still yelling, arms flailing, until she looks around and realizes we’re not in her quarters.
Her voice falters. “What is this? What are we doing here?”
