“Please, just listen,” I beg. I need her to hear me.
I’m coming back, little knight, the Kraken whispers in my mind. He’s found a place to leave Sava.
Blue light and red flame mix, and fade, and Harfor stands over me. There’s nothing but hatred in her eyes as she slowly draws her sword back, ready to run me through.
“Die, bitch,” Harfor says.
There’s no getting through to her. She won’t hear me. I can’t disarm her, not with my left arm. In a battle of swords, she’ll win.
And the only thing fire can do is burn.
Tears run down my face as I lift my blade and summon my fire again. The Kraken is a deep, endless well of power. Flames roar up to swallow Harfor. I push more power into them, trying to cut through her shield before she can drain the remaining Enchanted. But the blue light glows brighter and brighter around her, shielding her from the heat.
Her shield is only as powerful as the lives she’s draining, and she’s already used up a number of them firing on the dragons and fighting Roiven. I stumble up to my feet, sword outstretched in a shaking hand, and I burn, and burn, and burn, until the blue shield dies away beneath the white-gold heat of my fire.
Her armor melts beneath the heat, and the ship wavers in front of my eyes. It’s so hot my tears dry before they can even fall. When Harfor collapses I sever my connection to the power, but the deck is burning anyways.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper through my tight jaw. I don’t know ifI’m talking to the Enchanted below deck that Harfor drained to fight me, or if I’m talking to Harfor herself. She’s gone now, and she died hating me and everything about who I am, and nothing will ever change that.
The flames lick rapidly across the deck. The sword Roiven made me looks the same as ever, its blade the usual rippled gray instead of red-hot; it channeled the power without being melted by it. I shove it back into its scabbard.
“Roiven?” I call. The wall of fire keeps growing, separating me from him. I can see his body through it. But he hasn’t moved, and he doesn’t answer. “Hafgúa?”
Nearly there.
Nearly there has to be good enough. This ship is going down. I brace myself for the heat of the fire, dig my feet into the deck, and run straight through the flames to reach Roiven.
44
Roiven’s eyes are closed, one hand pressed to the wound, his chest rising and falling shallowly. I drop to my knees at his side as relief and terror buckle through me in equal measure: he’s alive. But he doesn’t look good.
“We have to go. The ship’s on fire.”
He opens his eyes slowly and stares up at me.
His eyes don’t burn. They aren’t gold and fire-licked. They’re just brown, with no spark of inner light. My throat clenches tight.
“Did she live?” Roiven rasps.
“Savasaeirn will be fine. The kraken took her—”
He breaks into a weak smile.
“You said her whole name,” Roiven says. I huff and try to drag him up with one arm. But there’s no way I can lift him single-handedly. He’s too heavy. When I lift his shoulders an inch off the wood he grimaces at the pain it causes.
“We have to move.” The flames are getting closer, racing toward us. “I know you’re hurt, but the kraken will be here soon. We just have to… comeon, Roiven,” I beg.
“Leave me.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m sorry I tricked you. You deserved better than me. Live, Cai.”
His eyes fall shut again. Through the bond I can feel his strength waver, his consciousness barely hanging on through the pain and the blood loss. I tear my eyes away from him for a moment to glare at the flame and try to push it away with my mind, and then to swallow the power back into me. But the flames roar and keep eating the ship, unmoved by my desperate, uneducated attempts at controlling witchcraft.
I hear a horrific screech of pain, so loud it pierces through every inch of me. I look up to see the green dragon falling from the sky, his wings burning with blue light. My heart catches as he slams down on top of a Hellion, dragging it below the deep with him.
“Hafgúa?” I call. My voice shakes.
