Page 130 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

My stomach rolled at the thought, but my cheek turned to view him askance as I waited for his point.

“You’re alive now because the King has a use for you. Your home, your knowledge, your importance to your husband. But if he can’t control you, Emilius won’t balk at the idea of laying you in the ground. He’ll have no qualms over using Nikolaos to get to you.”

A rising shudder nipped down my neck. Similar words had been spoken to me before, and they still managed to weigh over my body like a dark shadow over the moon. “Thank you for the warning.”

“And,” he said, glancing over his shoulder again, “if you want, I can help you into the lower dungeons without leaving your name. But we have to be fast.”

He motioned for me to enter one of the empty cells, my back to the wall just inside the open door. “Stay in the shadows,” he said softly before his steps faded into the quiet.

It was dark.

I tried not to look around. There was nothing to see, but all I could think of was sitting in a cell blanketed by black, and though the walls weren’t wooden, I knew they were tight and shallow. That they’d squeeze and shrink if I thought about them too hard, that I’d hear the wooden groan of a ship, the buoyant rocking of the sea, leaning to one side and then the other.

Instead, I turned myself into nothing, forcing it all out. Until the scrape of boots over stone returned, two sets of feet, male voices bounding softly off the walls as light and shadow crept over the floor.

I thought he might have told you.

Kye had coasted over the subject of his father in the past. I'd always been curious, but I'd known not to press him for a name or identity, the same way I'd known to avoid the subject of my mother with Ano. I'd sensed a heaviness there, a reluctance, a wall built from stone that ran as deep and dark as the dungeon I stood in.

Footsteps. Lantern light crept through the hall, Aras walking past the cell I hid within along with a young guard. He glanced back at me, a faint tilt in his chin. Then turned to face forward, chatting with the guard as they headed toward the stairs.

I waited for the lantern and the sound of their shoes to vanish before entering the hall, fingertips grazing the wall to keep me moving forward in the dark. One left turn, then another. More steps into the underground.

The air moved like a phantom wind here. Sound echoed, the screech of something like nails over glass raising the hair at the back of my neck.

Dim light spilled from four cells at the very end.

57

Kye

“Keep your fists high, Aitne. Protect your jaw.”

The Naiad’s hands made tight little balls. She narrowed her eyes at Leal, who stood across from her, palms wrapped and ready to catch her blows.

Pheolix started the training as he had the last few weeks, head bent and ears waiting, listening and offering critiques. As the hours passed, he’d dropped into near silence. A procession of emotions passed over his face like a hard-marching convoy, though he mostly glared into the rocks past his feet, swallowing hard at whatever thoughts trooped through his head.

Hadrian and I took the lead, partnering Naiads with humans, watching carefully as they strung attacks together. Striking combinations and feints, footwork to lead their opponent forward or walk them back, angle changes and counterattacks and pressure-weaving to limit movement and reach. Our fighting style was rougher than Pheolix’s, more hard-won against the smooth precision of his hits. But I’m not sure I’d ever seen anyone match Pheolix’s fighting—the blind drone moved like a scorpion, every limb in his body a weapon.

Aitne pushed forward, blocking Leal against the rocks, dodging his strike. She’d been trying to pin him for twenty minutes, each punch leaving him just enough room to spin out of reach, but determination fleshed out her edges, hooking the side of her mouth into a smile. The Naiad healer slammed her leg into his as he spiraled away, laying him flat on the rock. Then anchored him to the ground with a knee to his chest before he could move, fists poised for a lethal strike to his chin.

Hadrian leaned into my ear with a smirk, clearing a rasp in his throat. “We should teach them to fight with knives.”

“No knives,” Pheolix barked. Hiding a small cough against his arm, Hadrian’s eyes snapped to mine in the guilty way they had when we were kids and had been caught stealing chocolates from our mother’s jar. “Don’t depend on anything that can be taken from you,” the drone continued. “Knives, swords, water-calling. Drones will steal everything you have but your own hands.”

“I’m ready for a break,” came Leal’s worn-out voice from somewhere behind Aitne’s knee. She leaned away, offering a hand to pull him to his feet. He brushed sand from his back and lifted his leather pouch, the crest of a wrapped slab of beef just inside. He raised a brow at the healer. “I’ll share my snacks if you want.”

Dimas snared Olinne’s knuckles in his open palm with a flinch. “Why didn’t you offer to share your snacks with me?”

Olinne sent Nori a look of deep suffering. Nori sighed with aggravation back, yanking the ties of her wrist wraps. “When will our Queen arrive?”

“I’m not sure she’s coming,” I answered.

“Why not?”

I leaned casually against the rock. “She said she had something to do that I would get in the way of.”

Olinne snorted. Aegir sent her a small smirk that made my teeth clench.