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The man gulped, even as he tried to posture from his sprawl. Blood dripped from his crooked nose. “Yes, Captain. Beg your pardon.”
Anais was disgusted. “Up into the crow’s nest and shut your gob unless you want to be demoted back to swabbing,” she snapped at him.
Briar barely heard her.
They would try to bleed her sister dry when they found her. If not the Sea Dragons, then the fine lords from London who could not get home.
The entire island of Lyonesse would be after Petal. Including hundreds of Midsummer visitors. If the shields rusted shut, they were likely to try any manner of spell to open them, including pushing Petal right off a cliff or offering her to the mermaids if they thought it would do any good. They’d use her blood, her bones, anything at all when they got desperate. A new kind of fear bloomed in Briar’s belly.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
Even if Petal had stolen the bloody moon and damned them all.
“Let me send my swan out,” Briar said. Snapdragon was made of magic. And Petal was her twin, so their magic was linked. Always had been. It was worth a try. As many tries as necessary.
Ethan eyed her for a short, silent moment before nodding. Ice cracked and exploded behind him, sending shrapnel into the water. He didn’t flinch, only kept his focus on her. “Go on.”
She lifted her chin, pretending she was a woman who drank whiskey instead of mint tea. Her swan pushed from her chest, crackling with energy and hissing with spite. Now it would have drunk a barrel of whiskey and knocked the sailors overboard with a wing tip given half a chance. Light streamed from each feather, filling the air with the same kind of cold light that made up the stars. The crew stepped back, feeling the shiver of witchcraft, the bite of lightning. The shields of Lyonesse.
Ethan tipped his head back, tracking her familiar. Snapdragon snapped its beak in his direction and then flew toward the prow. Powerful wings beat and beat, but still it only hovered at the edge of the shields, blue light singeing its feathers. The taste of mint was strong on her tongue, the way it sometimes was when she reached too deeply into her well of magic. Pain prickled through her. Sweat gathered under her hair the harder her swan pushed.
All to no avail.
Finally, Snapdragon landed on the deck, screeching, light flickering. Briar slumped. She jerked once, violently, when the swan slammed home, shoving into her chest.
“Guess not,” Anais said.
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Cut her down. We’re not out of options yet.”
Like hell.
Briar waited until Anais undid the knots, the rope dropping to the deck. Her shoulders protested when she rolled them forward, stiff and sore. She had mere moments to act. She took the gold fork from between her breasts.
And then she stabbed Ethan Swansea in the back.
