“Not in the least, Your Majesty. I must stand with the sea to my ankles.” She lowered her voice. “And I must confess, I fear it.”
His lips flattened and he offered her the barest nod before she wove her fingers through his and led him toward the edge of the water. She took slow steps in, waves biting at her hem, weighing it down. Theodore stood behind her and she guided his hands up, so he held her waist. She looked over her shoulder at him, a curving smile on her lips. “Just so.”
Writhing possessives overtook me. There was no need for it, but our blood bond lit in a painful, sparking protest. Agatha came to my side and tugged me back. I’d stepped closer to the sea without even realizing it, as if beckoned.
“Deep breath,” she said, so only I could hear her. “If we’ve learned one thing, it’s that your control is poorest when your emotions are high.”
I sucked in the salt air, but it did little good.
Princess Halla turned in Theodore’s hold and gave us gathered on the beach a beatific smile. Her voice rose above the roiling waves. “I know you do not pray to my saint, as I do not worship your Gods, but I ask that you all kneel during the ceremony out of respect.”
We lowered ourselves to the sand. I spun through my memories of Agatha’s lessons from when I had been a girl, searching for what I’d learned of the Obelian saints. All I could recall was that each family chose their own. The two other robed women walked into the water. They faced the princess and lowered themselves to their knees. The red sashes down their centers floated over the white foam, a thick stream of deep red.
Halla’s voice wound through the damp air like a song, reaching high, then dropping low into her chest. It was filled with heart and adoration. “I come with gratitude, with praise, with unending reverence. I come to keep our counterpoise. To take and to give in equal measure.”
One of the ladies in the waves raised the crystalline stake and Halla cradled it in both of her hands. “I ask for a happy marriage. I ask for a union that begets many children.”
My stomach felt slimy, flipping with sick. I dropped my gaze to my lap, where my interlaced hands had gone white.
Halla’s voice softened. “I ask that you strengthen the waters with your power. I ask that you aid King Theodore’s fleet. Twist the currents in his favor, fill them with your minions, so that the enemy may be lowered to your devouring dark.”
My gaze shot to Halla like a loosed arrow. Cold crackled through me as she twisted the stake and gripped it in one hand. Halla held her other hand out, palm up. “I give you my blood as payment for your blessings.” Halla’s eyes closed, and she whispered, so quietly I could hardly hear the words over the breeze, “I remember your body sliced open, and your blood spilled.” She set the sinister tip of the stake to her index finger and sliced the end of it clean open. Red dripped into the waves. “I give to the sand. I give to the water. Hear me, heed me. Cleanse the sea.”
Panic slammed me in the chest. “No.” I was on my feet to a chorus of gasps. I strode into the waves, water flying through the air in a wide spray.
Lachlan’s sword rang in my ears as he pulled it from his sheath and raced after me. “What the fuck—”
“Stand down, Lachlan,” Theodore shouted.
“Theo, you’ve lost your—”
“Standdown.”
I stood before Halla and ripped the stake from her fist. Our gazes stuck. The whites of her eyes were suddenly red, shot through with bright, snaking veins. Somehow, she looked even more like death now with white lips and sunken, gray cheeks. Her knees gave and Theodore braced to hold her up. “Who is your saint?” I demanded, holding the stake between us. “Tell me her name.”
“You gave your word—you would not interfere.” Her sweet, melodic tones were gone. Now she spoke with the crackling voice of a crone.
Theodore’s eyes widened at the sound.
“Answer me.” My hand fisted into the front of her robe, jerking her. She could not move at all now. The entirety of her body’s weight slumped in Theodore’s strong arms.
Halla let out a screeching yowl of frustration, of pain. “Do something, Your Majesty.”
“Imogen.” Theodore’s voice was alarmingly even. I met his gaze over Halla’s shoulder and there was something in it that stilled me. Disorientation. The steady, noble man did not know what to do. “Let her go, Im.”
I couldn’t bring myself to obey. My voice turned heavy and begging. “She worships Eusia.”
“Eusia.” Halla’s red eyes rounded at the name, and her jaw went slack. “You know Eusia?”
“I know her well.” My chest heaved with quick breaths. “Why do you worship her? What magic did she perform for you?”
Halla gaped, affronted. “She performed a miracle. For our family.”
“She performed aspell,” I said through my teeth. “What was the payment required for it?”
Some realization crashed over her at my question. Her face went blank. Her mouth closed into a thin, refusing line. My talonsslipped from the tips of my fingers and sliced through the front of her robe.
“Imogen,” Theodore yelled, “let her go.”
