CHAPTER TWENTY
I must caution you on your interpretation of your vision in the Waters of Ascendiel. Your mother used to say the souls of the seers were cryptic.
—Hidden correspondence from Khato to Bayne. 7th of Summer, 071.3E.
TheCenturionrose from the turquoise bay like a golden monument in its sparkling waters. At twice the size of theEvecta, the waves pushing their way into the sheltered bay did little to rock the massive vessel. A wooden carving of an elven female, with a crown of flowers atop her windblown curls, and nothing more than a smattering of vines crossing over her breasts and bare stomach jutted out from the front of the ship. My stomach twisted as I gazed at Queen Antares’s figurehead.
Golden in the bright morning sunshine that had chased the last of the lingering clouds away, the ship floated steadily. Elves bustled on and off the gangplank as they finished loading the supplies for the trip that would take the next few months.
My mouth hung open as they’d loaded large, cylindrical iron weapons onto the ship—air canons, they called them. I’d onlyseen them once before in that strange, dream-like state when Cyril had slit my throat. They’d been on board the ship with that young man with the dark eyes, surrounded by men ready to hurt him. My heart squeezed for some strange reason.
I’d been told wind whisperers could use the weapons to fire balls of iron at enemy ships if needed. My stomach churned at the sight, but it was nothing compared to the waves of dread and loss that pushed into my heart as I said my goodbyes to Bayne and Tiberius.
Bayne watched from a distance, apology written across his face. Vulcan gripped his hand, his hazel eyes hard on the captain. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, the air seeming to still, before Vulcan finally gave him a curt nod and stalked past me onto the ship.
Queen Antares stood before her court in a soft pink gown that wrapped around her curves, adorned with the living crown of flowers. A goddess of life and light.
Nerissa prowled past the group, the ex-War Slayer hauling a pack of her own.
The queen said, “Safe journey, niece. May we only grow closer upon your return.”
My connection to Nerissa quivered for a moment. Her face, bland yet white with rage, softened as she turned to the queen and sketched a low bow before she boarded theCenturion.
Ronan clapped Bayne on the shoulder as he made his way to the ship. He met my eye and gave a nod as his gaze shifted to where Nerissa stood next to Vienah.
A warm hand clapped onto my shoulder, and I turned to find Drystan. His lips were drawn back in a half-smile. He wrapped his long arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. He’d be staying here. Drystan’s training with Isla had paid off, and he was one of the few magic-wielding humans who had joined us from Odessa. He’d already trained a handful of Rising soldiers inthe lost arts and would stay to see it through. I squeezed back for a long heartbeat before he pulled away, ruffling my hair.
“I’ll miss you,” I signed to him. “Keep an eye on Ti for me?”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble,” he responded with a chuckle.
I’ll do as I please, Ti retorted.
I should probably offer to pay Drystan…
A bristle of irritation raced down the connection with my caeluma, and my lips tugged upward.
“Try not to let curiosity get the best of you,” Drystan continued with a wink.
I landed a soft punch on his arm as he jogged back to where Bayne stood.
Behind the queen, the group parted to allow Carina through. My mouth hung open as the small, mousy elf, dressed in a conservative, cotton travel dress, shuffled through the crowd with a pack on her back and made her way to the ship.
I blinked and shifted to the side, giving her a wide berth as Kresida brought up the rear. Kresida’s dark brown eyes slashed to mine, and her mouth curved up in a sinister grin before she paused.
The queen’s War Slayer loomed over me, nose crinkling in a sneer as she said quietly, “I may be leaving Lotrennian shores,Bonder,” her last word dripping in condescension, “but I have eyes on both of you.” Her gaze drifted up, scanning the sparse, cottony clouds for Tiberius.
I bared my teeth at the threat toward my caeluma.
“Fuck off, Kresida,” Isla’s clear voice cut in, curbing my anger.
Kresida straightened and turned toward Isla. Though she towered over her small frame, Isla somehow looked down at her over the bridge of her nose.
“Shoo,” she said, flicking her hands in the War Slayer’s direction before Kresida stalked off.
My gaze returned to Isla, who I now realized was wearing a soft green dress that wrapped around her feminine figure.
“What—” I began.
