Lachlan’s voice called through the fog, close and loud. “Imogen, Gods damn it.” His footsteps pounded on the upper deck, just above us. “Imogen.”
Theodore set my hands in my lap. He waited for Lachlan to leave before he stood, using the bowsprit above him for balance, and started toward the rail of the upper deck. “Magic almost killed you, Immy,” he whispered, looking down at me with beseeching eyes.
I knew how he hated it. He’d begged me to never use it. “It saved me, Theo.”
He shook his head. “No. I did.” I saw everything in his face then—fury, heat, longing, fear. “And Gods damn you, I’ll do it again and again if I must.”
Then he climbed up to the upper deck, over the rail, and was lost to the mist.
14
Imogen
I stumbled through the fog, crossing the busy deck with hands held up before me. Bright lanterns danced overhead. That strange music still twisted through the thick air.
But I don’t see you the way you see yourself.
A pressure built behind my eyes, in my chest, but I fought through in search of the lower deck. I needed to hide away in my cabin. Needed to shore up the gaping hole Theodore had just knocked in me.
I looked for the towering shadow of the mainmast to orient myself in the haze, but I found myself at the ship’s helm instead.
In a pool of light that spilled from a cluster of lanterns sat a table laden with wine and food. A tumble of red flowers ran down its middle, like a vein bursting with the blood of spring. Barely shrouded by wisps of rolling fog, and talking closely before the door to Theodore’s stateroom, sat Markis and Halla. Across from them sat Aleka Baros, nursing a small goblet of amethyst wine.
Halla straightened when she saw me. Even in the dampened light her white gown looked radiant. The shells and gems stitchedinto it resembled the intricate patterns of frost and spread all the way from the scant bodice to the clinging skirt.
They all looked up at me in silence and took in the details of the gown I wore—a Godsdamned Leucosian binding gown. Markis lingered on the lines of the fitted bodice, but I watched Aleka’s gaze narrow as she noted its stitching.
My face grew hot.
“You’re looking…poignant… this evening, Your Majesty,” Aleka said, the words thoughtful and soft. Her voice was decidedly calming, even if her words made my nerves coil. “And looking surprisingly well after this morning’s incident.”
I swallowed. “His Majesty is an excellent healer.” My fingers dug into my skirt. “And I mean no offense. There was nothing else for me to wear.” The moment I’d said the words, I wished I could have pulled them right back. I should have worn a clean sailor’s uniform. Even the ale-scented sleep shirt I’d woken up in would have been better than this.
Aleka shook her head and spoke with sincerity. “No sovereign need explain themself, Your Majesty. The dress is lovely, and you look lovely in it.”
“Oh,” I said, stunned. “Thank you.”
“You’re not wandering the ship without yourguard,are you, Your Majesty?” Markis asked before I could leave. There was something warring in his look. It was lecherous and disapproving at once and filled me with unease. “Seems unsafe for us all that you might be unattended.”
I offered him a sharp smile. “He’s closer than you think.”
Halla gestured awkwardly to the chair beside her. “Please, sit. Eat.” She gave me a broad smile. “It would be good to speak.”
No, I didn’t think it would be, but the sudden warmth in hermade me tilt. Looking at her now, with the image of a young Nivala so fresh in my mind, was jarring too. They were so alike, with their fine noses, rounded cheeks, and bright blue eyes.
I glanced toward Markis, who held his goblet firmly and ate from a plate of meat and fruit, then Aleka.
She nodded encouragingly. “Do join us, Your Majesty. Perhaps Steward Gabros will feel safer having you where he can see you.”
Feeling disarranged, I stepped toward the proffered chair and sat. Halla watched me intently, quietly.
“Do you know how far we are from Anthemoessa?” I asked, trying to ground myself. Thinking of my task and of getting to Agatha felt sturdy and soothing.
Markis popped a grape into his mouth. “We should arrive sometime tomorrow, if weather sees fit. We’ve made good time up until this fog. Let’s hope it passes.”
I watched with my hands in my lap as Halla poured me a goblet of wine, and the memory of that vision rose up once more. Halla as a screaming babe, suckling at her mother’s breast. Herordinary bloodbeing squeezed from her foot to feed Eusia.
“That’s good,” I said, absently. One more night and I’d be close enough to Agatha to help her. Close enough to Eusia to end her. “And the captain thought it wise to continue on course with the fog this thick?”
