The flags danced wildly as the message was sent, colors flashing and shifting in frantic sequence.
Please, Arran, Cailean, Jamie thought.Please see it. Please understand.
He scanned the chaos for their ships, heart in his throat. They were closer to the fighting now, dangerously so. If Elise struck again—
A third blast tore across the water, this one glancing wide but close enough that the waves reared up in a violent swell. In response, a fierce wind lashed out from the vicinity of Barra’s ships behind, slamming into the sails of the king’s fleet and sending them shearing off to port.
Was that Rose? Was she trying to counter Elise’s War Weaving? And—God help them—were they about to be caught up in a battle between MacFinnan spellweavers? This had never been part of the plan. This was not the way things were supposed to go.
He peered anxiously into the chaos and caught a glimpse of the flagship—taller than the rest, banners streaming from her mast, flying the king’s colors.
And there, on the raised deck, he saw a figure.
Even at this distance, he knew her. Elise stood rigid at the rail, her midnight hair whipping loose around her shoulders, her posture stiff with strain. She looked small against the vastness of the waves, swallowed by the machinery of war around her.
Another pulse of power gathered around her, the air shimmering.
“No,” Jamie whispered fiercely. “Elise, dinna do it.”
Skye and Barra’s ships hesitated now, their line faltering as confusion spread. Some were already trying to turn, flags shifting as captains tried to make sense of the message that Jamie’s men were desperately trying to send.
On Skye’s nearest galley, the Ulster flag was suddenly lowered from the mast.
Jamie’s heart leapt. “They see it,” he breathed. “They’re changing—”
But the king’s ships surged forward again, taking advantage of the confusion.
Jamie rounded on the helmsman. “Cut closer. Get me to the king’s flagship!”
“Aye, my lord!”
The ship angled sharply, spray exploding over the bow as it slewed forward. Jamie braced himself against the rail, eyes locked on Elise.
He hoped against hope that he reached her in time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elise stood atthe rail of the king’s flagship with the wind tearing at her hair and the salt spray stinging her face. There were ships everywhere now—dark hulls cutting through the steel-gray water, sails straining, oars biting.
Phillip was a constant presence at her shoulder, sharp and insistent, but his voice faded whenever she reached for her power. When she wove her spells, everything retreated: the noise of battle, the boom of waves, the shouts and screams that carried over the water. Everything became still. Everything becameright.
She lifted her hands and her power answered instantly. It surged from somewhere deep inside, a living thing fighting to get out but it finally, finally, obeyed her commands. Threads of force spun outwards, bright and terrible, and slammed into the nearest attacking vessel. The ship shuddered, its mast splintering as though struck by a giant’s fist. Sailors and warriors alike were thrown to the deck like dolls.
A laugh tore from her throat. It was half triumphant, half hysterical. A sensation was stealing through her, a feeling she remembered all too well. It was the same rush she’d felt that day she first unleashed her War Weaving, the day she’d defended Jamie’s ship as they’d gone to salvage theSea Star.
She felt the same sense of euphoria flowing through her as she had then, as though she were merely a conduit for something vast and inevitable. Her heart raced, her skin prickled.
She felt invincible.
Another ship surged forward and she turned towards it, the weaving coming more easily now, smoother, stronger.
The sea bucked beneath her power, waves rising at her unspoken command. A wall of water reared up and crashed across the deck of a galley, sweeping people aside like sticks.
Elise’s breath came fast, her cheeks flushed despite the chill. A terrible joy burned in her chest, a fierce exhilaration that made her feel as though she was the center of the storm, thecommanderof the storm.
But somewhere, distantly, a warning bell rang in her mind.
This is wrong.
