Page 48 of Ballad of Sea and Sky

How could she be so soft and untested, but rebellious and curious at the same time? How had she grown defiant and strong, despite being treated as an invalid all of her damn life? I didn’t understand how she had come to be as she was, and her curiosity and wonder in Nordhavn, the sense of justice I felt in her, had made me think that perhaps I could still salvage this wreck of a plan.

If she didn’t die, of course.

I grimaced, the gravel hill beyond the beach cutting the souls of my feet and straining my broken wings. The island was inhospitable at best, downright hostile at worst. The wind was cold and sharp, and every gust sent shoots of agony down my back. My broken wings.

Wings that she had set without flinching or questioning. She had done a good job, too. My wings had been broken enough times in my youth that I could instinctively feel which joints needed setting. She had bound them tightly and efficiently, a surprise with her delicate frame and lack of muscle, and she had made herself sick doing it.

Lung ailments like hers were unusual, but not unheard of. We had medicine in the cliffs that could help her, if I could find a way to get her there. For now, I’d have to make do with more primitive methods like those from Nordhavn, which were still far more advanced than what she had probably received on her island.

I kept my eyes open for the plants I would need to treat her. I wasn’t sure what plants were native to this part of the archipelago, but Marina had been familiar with some of the herbs in the tea I’d purchased in the port town, so some must grow here.

Perhaps fate was on my side for once.

There was no hyssop or horehound, but there was some peppermint and licorice root growing wild out of a rocky path in the cliffs above that would make a soothing tea. I remembered her scent, peppermint and ocean spray, and wondered if this was the best her people could do for her lungs.

Peppermint had quickly become my favorite.

I hacked at the roots with Marina’s makeshift knife, another stroke of unexpected inspiration from the little urchin. If I could boil water and get the steam from these plants into her for long enough to calm the spasms, she should be able to breathe again.

How long had I been gone? Twenty minutes? I would have to get back lest she suffocate in my absence. But what in the skies could I use to boil water?

There was some kind of structure on the island a little ways inland, and I made for it as fast as I could, every step agony. It was what looked to be an abandoned hut, or maybe a shed. I pushed in the door and was greeted by a thick layer of dust that I blew out with my air magic, feeling more drained than I should by the tiny gust. We needed sleep and food, or we would never make it off this blasted rock.

There was a battered old pot in the hearth of the tiny room, and I grabbed it, inspecting for holes. It seemed firm enough, if a bit dirty. I’d need to wash it out with seawater, then use all the freshwater Marina had pulled from the fog to brew her tea.

I would be fine. I could go one more day without water.

I looked around the room for anything else that might be useful. A flint on the mantelpiece would prove handy for starting a fire, especially with dry driftwood hard to come by. I tried to gather up some of the sealskins from the bed but found them too difficult to carry with the pot and my ravaged back.

We should move our camp here if I could keep Marina alive long enough to bring her. The bed was small, but we could share if we lay close together.

The thought made parts of me tighten unexpectedly, and I chastised myself. Now was not the time to think of her warm body pressed against mine in sleep.

How had my life gotten so upended? Astraios and Zephyr would be frantically looking for me, which was my only consolation. Marina’s parents would undoubtedly be looking, too, and I’d rather not be caught off guard and unarmed by her idiot betrothed.

Skies above. She was betrothed. The sooner I remembered that, the better. It might not be a love match, but lusting after my enemy’s daughter would be extremely bad for business, if not catastrophic to my whole plan.

But it’s not just lust, said a traitorous voice in my head.

What did I feel for Marina? Definitely more than I should be. She hadn’t sensed my raging jealousy when I’d pushed her to go to Astraios, or my sagging relief when she refused. Perhaps I shouldn’t even be thinking of it, but if I was about to die on this wretched island, I may as well do it with some self-awareness. She had a wild, reckless streak like Zephyr that I admired and a curiosity I hadn’t expected to find in a selkie.

And skies help me, she was probably the most alluring creature I had ever met, her hair and eyes like the sea.

It hadn’t helped that she had been unabashedly bare-breasted when I woke to her hovering over me on the beach. I had firmly believed I was dying, and the only thing I’d wanted to do with my dying breath was to kiss her. To taste her before the end.

More fool me that she had let me. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I picked my way back down the cliff, cursing my lack of boots and my broken wings. They put me off balance, and every slip and stumble caused the bones to grind together and my vision to swim unpleasantly.

Something cracked on the path behind me and I whirled, the shell knife a pathetic weapon, but better than nothing. The movement was brutal, sending a fire down my spine.

Nothing was there.

I paused, stretching out my senses to see if the wind could tell me anything. But no. I was alone. We were alone here.

Despite the wind’s assurance, I didn’t quite believe it as I descended the hill and returned to the cave. I felt like something was watching me. Studying me. And it didn’t feel particularly friendly.

I clenched my jaw, focusing on the task at hand as I returned to the beach, glancing back every few moments. I was sure I was being followed, but there was still nothing.