“I’m not giving him an option,” she answers.
“The others will stay put. They won’t risk alerting the Hellions to their position,” Nor announces.
Chewing my lip, I glance at the kraken without asking my question outloud. He doesn’t need to answer or nod. The understanding passes between us all the same.
“I’ll go after the Hellions.” I straighten.
“Alone? Just you and your familiar?” Aria says, peering up at me.
“If you can promise to save Roiven.”
“I’ll try.”
“More than try,” I growl.
“Yes,” Aria whispers. “Let me heal you too.”
“There isn’t time.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Aria says. She stands and reaches for the hem of my shirt.
“Roiven—”
“Stop fighting and I’ll get back to him faster,” she says, and yanks the shirt up to reveal the ugly, oozing gash. Nor makes a retching sound, shudders, and turns away. “You can’t swim like this.”
“The Hellions…”
She makes a frustrated noise, something between a growl and a sigh, and presses a hand above the wound. Her palm is hot against my salty skin.
“I need to move fast, so it will hurt,” Aria warns. I don’t have time to answer before my side blazes in agony. My knees buckle and my eyes water. I grit my teeth.
Aria pulls her hand away and silently falls to her knees, returning to Roiven. She looks paler than she did a moment ago. The wound at my side is puckered and scabbed, throbbing with pain but no longer open to the air.
“Thank you,” I say. She nods but doesn’t answer.
I wish I could stay, and keep an eye on Roiven.
You could stay,Hafgúa says quietly.I can handle the death-god’s ships.
But Aria stepped away from Roiven’s healing to make sure I could do this. And I’m not leaving my bonded to face a dozen Hellions alone, no matter how strong he is. They can still hurt him.And while he can drag ships below the water or crush them in his tentacles, I don’t think he can fight in a way that won’t kill the Enchanted.
I have to do what I can.
“Let’s go,” I say, my mouth dry, and stride back toward the sea.
46
I should have stayed with Roiven. All I can think about is whether he’s alright.
We race through the ocean, past terrors of reapers and schools of smaller fish still fleeing the Hellion’s blast. The water gets murky as we draw near where Aveinor once stood, churning with sand and debris.
“Are they still here?”
I do not see them above me.
Hafgúa lifts me from the water. I squint and peer around, but all I see is smog.
Perhaps they—ah.
