Page 42 of The Stolen Crown

There was fear on board the ship tonight.

All at once, the sound of cracking wood rose over the thundering storm. A deep fissure splintered beneath the doorway into the cabin.

Three hells, the ship was…breaking.

I scrambled across the bench until my back pressed into the corner of the wall and window. I hugged my knees to my chest. Outside, flashes of brilliant orange and white shattered the darkness. Fire. We were bleeding, burning.

The vessel dipped violently; screams were lost in the chaos beyond the door.

My eyes widened when, outside the glass window, something like inky smoke surrounded the ship. Not clouds, at least not any clouds I’d seen before. These were walls of darkness and flashing light. As though the storm crept across the sea to swallow us whole.

The door to the cabin clattered open. Wood smashed against wood. Hinges snapped. I jumped free of my horror at the hells rising against us outside. Tait raced across the room, dark hair wild around his face.

“Are you…bleeding?” What a pitiful thing to say in such a moment, but I could not peel my eyes away from the river of blood trailing between his eyes.

Tait merely picked up the chair sliding beneath the desk. He lifted it in the air with one hand, then curled me against his body, his other palm shielding my head. Glass shattered. I screamed against his chest. All at once, cold, wet air battered my cheeks.

A gaping hole filled the center of the window. Whistles and shrieks from the torrent outside screamed in my ears.

“Hold on to me!” he shouted over the wind.

“What? Tait, are you mad? No, I can’t…I can’t go out there, we can’t leave the ship, we—”

Tait shook my shoulders. “Look at me.” He waited until I stopped reeling and held his gaze. “If you do not want to be lost to the Far Seas, hold on to me. Do not let go.”

“Tait,” I whispered, “what is happening?”

“I can’t dive. I can’t control the helm. I can’t even bleeding see against the darkness on deck.” His jaw tightened. “We have no other choice. We must abandon ship.”

I had no time to protest, to question, or even to make some sort of terrified witty response before Tait Heartwalker shoved both of us through the hole in the glass and into the waves below.

13

The Illusionist

Black. All around me was thick, ominous night.

The rage of the sea struck me from all sides. Cold, powerful, like a fist curled around my body, tossing me into the air again and again. Currents tugged and pulled from all directions. I could not make out which way was up and which would sink me deeper into the shadows below.

I thrashed. It was all I knew how to do. Kick and kick and kick. In truth, I was not a strong swimmer. Distant memories of childhood lessons in the ponds of the Borough flickered through my panicked mind.

Roll onto your back and float so you can breathe. Pointless when I was wholly submerged in a stormy sea.

Align your form with the surface of the water. Again, hardly convenient when my body was currently being tossed about in a raging tide.

Kick for proper propulsion and scoop your hands to guide you forward. Back to kicking. All I could bleeding do was kick and cling to Tait Heartwalker.

No doubt, I looked like a flinging linen towel trapped in a windstorm the way I kept rolling and flailing while trying to hold on to him.

My fingers clawed at the water on one side, and on the other, I desperately clung to Tait’s solid arm. Darkness tightened around us. I could not see him, could only feel his nearness.

Currents yanked against me, threatening to tear me down to the depths.

Hold on to me. Do not let go. I repeated his words again, again, and again. I fought to keep him.

Until something large, heavy, and strong enough to create its own suction sank beside me. Like a rope around my middle, I was ripped away. My grip slipped free of Tait’s hand.

No. No. Gods, no.