Page 95 of The Stolen Crown

“Ready?”

It took a moment to realize Tait was speaking to me. I glanced back at the small isle. It felt like a turn since we’d been on the ship, then in the next breath a blink of an eye.

How different things were now than on the morning I woke on this shoreline. Harsh, cruel, painful truths bonded the two of us with something deeper, something real. Fears had been spoken. And my heart belonged in the hands of the man I tried to ignore, tried to agitate, and tried to resist for months.

“We could stay.” Tait smirked and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “This might’ve begun drearily, but I can’t say I despise how it’s turned out.”

“Plan to keep me here and make this isle our little haven?”

“Start our own kingdom.”

I snorted. “Traitorous talk. What shall the Ever King say?”

He paused. “I won’t let the sea take you.”

“What?”

“Behind all that stunning determination, there is fear in your eyes. We have strengths, you and I. They will serve us well and already have. You know the land; I know the sea. Just like you saved me on land”—he nodded at the place where the sinking sand hid in the brush—“I will always save you on the sea.”

My shoulders slumped. “I was terrified when I woke here, but now I’m almost terrified to leave it.”

He took a step closer. “Like I told you when the Sea Void went down, don’t let go of me. We’ll make it, but don’t let go.”

“Where you go, I go, Hearttalker.”

“I’ll hold you to those words, Vicious.”

I glanced at him. “I’m ready.”

Tait kept a steady hand on the small of my back, and together we stepped toward the water’s edge. My foot caught on something.

I looked down. A coil of sand wrapped around my ankle like a vine. “Tait.”

He had already kicked off his own burst of sand. He took another step.

Bleeding gods, a new coil of sand wrapped around his leg. It took more effort for Tait to remove it.

I peered over my shoulder. The isle was calm, but around the summit of the peak where we’d given everything to each other, a new dark spiral of smoky clouds hid the point from sight. Darker, thicker, the clouds descended the slope of the peak. As though devouring the rocks and trees.

They aimed for the shore. They aimed for us.

Sand latched onto my legs like thin ropes lashing out from the bedrock.

“Dammit!” A cry scraped over my tongue. “It’s trying…trying to keep us!”

I kicked off the sand, stumbling.

Tait gripped my elbow. A flash of violence hardened his eyes. “Mira. Run.”

He did not hesitate and shoved me forward. The instant we quickened our pace, endless bursts of sandy ropes shot upward. Some reached for our arms, our waists. We twisted and kicked, flinging off the tendrils. I swung my arms and forced my legs to move faster, hoping to outrun whatever curse lived in the soil of this land.

From the corner of my gaze, Tait’s form fell out of sight.

I spun around and screamed, enrobed in panic. Ropes of sand lashed up at us, snapping and whipping against Tait’s limbs. Harsh coils snaked around one of his wrists, an ankle. Another strand attempted to take hold of his waist, but he sliced with his knife in front of his body, breaking the solid coil into thousands of grains of sand.

“Mira, go—”

“Do not even speak it, you fool.” Already, I reeled back, stomping at the sprouting sand, clawing at the coils around his body until the brittle tendrils snapped in bursts of fine particles.