Page 107 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

“Okay.” I lowered myself to my pillow, my back to his back, that soft lure of sleep now silenced under the blare of red wind inside my head. Our single candle, low in a puddle of wax, hissed as it drowned, dropping the room into darkness. I stared out the window at the stars, though I didn’t really see them.

I waited for sleep to find him. For his breaths to lengthen into slow pulls against the dark. But it didn’t.

48

Maren

“It’s a simple little island,” Aegir said, resting his hands on his hips and glancing around.

The word simple offered more complexity than Evenstar probably deserved. The isle was smaller than Paria, tree-less and grass-less, a flat little raised shelf of rock and pebbles just higher than sea level.

“Venusian females moon bathe here when the weather is warm,” Aegir continued. His gaze scoured the bare isle, and I couldn’t decide if the harsh line between his brows was drawn from deflecting the brightness of the sun or the lack of appeal Evenstar held for anything other than lying on cold rock. Exiled from Aalto’s heat, I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to banish the shiver over my skin.

Across the isle, Leal kicked pebbles into the water below. Aren and Hadrian wrapped Nori and Olinne’s wrists in strips of leather. Already wrapped, Aitne and Diara hovered nearby, stroking the dark blue of Kolibri’s fur, watching Pheolix as he shaped their fingers into fists, positioning Aitne’s in front of her chin. They’d arrived only minutes ago, surprising me like Cebrinne had a few days prior, Kye avoiding my eyes as he reminded me Selena had asked him to help train the Naiads and they, too, needed somewhere secluded.

That okay with you? he’d asked, and I’d answered yes, because it seemed like the polite thing to say, the responsible, queenly thing—because they were, of course, my Naiads. And yes, I wanted them safe. Against one of Thaan’s drones, I wanted to give them any chance I could at a fair fight, if not a fair escape.

But Kye’s words from the night before had burrowed into my chest, as hard to swallow as glowing coals in the fire. A night of spotty sleep had done little to nullify it, judging by the mild heartburn at the base of my throat every time I recounted the conversation.

I suppose that’s the risk of growing close to someone, close enough to let them see the chinks in your armor.

You condemn something a problem and decide to kill it within the same breath.

It wasn’t that it was untrue. It was true, and I had no argument against it. Not only that, he’d hurled it at me as an accusation, a defect or shortcoming or weakness of character.

Aegir gathered his braids behind his shoulders, twisting sea water from the length. “You want help getting started?”

“I’ll be fine,” I answered, lifting a finger to test the presence of electricity in the air. A flash ignited at the end of it. Somewhere behind us, I knew Kye was pretending not to watch. I’d barely glanced at him since we’d woken.

For now, just do nothing.

“Force ice crystals into the clouds and you’ll get a larger spark,” Aegir said, watching me. “Precipitation will help too, and as much warm moisture as you can generate against the cold.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, folding his arms and indicating for me to start with a terse nod.

I exhaled, closing my eyes and listening to the sound of my lungs venting all air into the wild, turning away from everyone and everything. Voices faded into wind and sea, brine and salt and mist heavy on my tongue. The two stones hung in the hammock of my pocket, a weight over my hip bone.

Light behind my eyelids slowly collapsed into dark.

A soft sheet of water sprinkled over my cheeks, and I opened my mouth, inviting the taste of it in. Fresh, sharp, almost wintery. Rain then, not sea spray.

A fizzle around my fingertips.

And then waves. Monstrous, towering waves, titans of the sea.

I felt them even without my eyes open, a push and pull and thrash, over and over, growing taller, darker, mightier. Aegir had pulled back his power, letting me take the helm of his Venusian waters like a captain offering control of their ship, and I wondered if he’d known I was desperate to unleash my frustration upon the sea and sky or if he’d planned to give me control either way.

There was too much I’d lost control over, too much I’d let slip right of my own hands. Thaan was out of the palace—but was he really? My father and my colony were safe, but were they really? And the King was nothing more than a little man, a sad, pathetic little human with a child’s temper, a problem easily disposed of and forgotten, buried like the bones of a chicken.

But was he really?

And maybe Kye was right. Maybe I acted too quickly—and reacted even faster. But only because I knew what it was to ignore a problem, to let it fester and chafe and gnaw like a tumor left to root in all the corners of life. Better to cut a cancer and walk away than watch as a disease grew, helpless and unguarded by anything except yourself.

Rain pelted my face, harder now. Wind kicked in my hair, winding it around my eyes. Waves slammed left and right, warriors of the sea colliding under the shadowed sky. My body warmed, a heat somewhere between searing and soothing as my tattoos woke under my skin.

Somewhere, over the horizon, thunder broke.

My hand coiled tight, rising toward the clouds as I extended my arm.

I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t frantic. Not rash or reckless or impulsive like all the other times I’d called for lightning.