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We’d made some progress, now at least a hundred yards from the edge. In the relief of another strike of lightning, I saw it—what looked like black cracks fissuring through the edges of the whirlpool into the water. They were just like the chasm that had opened in the Night Forest. I yanked again at the water, desperate to distance us further, but my arms shook with the effort. As I looked around, I saw that the others strained, red faced and sweating, limbs shaking. We couldn’t keep this up long enough to make a real difference. The second we were drained, the storm’s seemingly infinite force would gobble us back up.

I glanced at Rune, who held up the glowing shard Nyah had taken when my mother broke the powerstone. It hummed with a pulsing amethyst light, and only she remained steady, face calm, as she tilted her head up into the wind she summoned.

I’d been going about this all wrong, I realized with a jolt. I had the tool to help us, and I hadn’t even thought to use it. In truth, I’d never dared use it. Not like that. I wasn’t sure I’d know how. But if I didn’t try now, there may be no further opportunities.

Clutching the mast with one hand, I drew my sword with the other. I raised it in the air, the onyx hilt glittering in the reflection of a sudden shaft of lightning. I stared at the runes carved on it. An ancient elven protection spell to keep its secret hidden. It answered only to my blood.

And to think, it had been within Balram’s reach all along. Thank the gods Rufus had no magic with which to wield it.

“I am the rightful heir,” I whispered, and the runes glowed from within this time, lighting the space between the hilt and my chest with an eerie aqua light.

Please help, I prayed to the stone inside. The one that belonged to my people. The one last holdout against Balram. Then, on instinct alone, I focused my magic—already struggling from so much energy spent—through the stone nestled safely in the hilt.

My entire fist was swallowed in the turquoise glow that answered. It shone right through the opaque onyx that had hidden it like it was made of glass. And with renewed hope, I pulled at the ocean.

The water rose to my call. The wave swelled beneath us, lifting us over a dozen feet into the air as we plummeted backward. We rode the crest of that wave out and past the perimeter of the rotating depths. As though expressing its rage that we’d circumvented it, lightning flashed within the spinning maelstrom, cutting another jagged path across the center. Thunder shook the skies as the wave finally set us down on calm waters, past the line of danger.

It was like bursting through a wall as we emerged to a sunlit sky where birds cawed above, weaving through fluffy, white tufts of cloud contrasting with those surrounding the storm.

From this side it appeared like a dark, imposing wall, lit up by the occasional flash within. The rumbles grew distant even as we slowed to a stop on the unnaturally still waters.

I collapsed onto the deck, and the light from the stone inside my sword faded into obscurity. I ran a thumb over the runes that still glowed like tiny embers, and the secret was sealed once again.

Sharlyne and Bonch both lay prone on the deck, unconscious, chests rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep. Galan’s crew fared much the same, though he was still conscious, clinging to a wooden crate for support as he lowered himself to the floor.

Only the princess still stood, now lowering her crystal shard as it dimmed back to its clear color. She blinked open her eyes, her hair the wild halo of a cloud as she slowly smiled.

“We did it,” she said, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “I let my magic loose. All of it, and it worked!”

I smiled at her childlike wonder, and I didn’t correct her. I wouldn’t. It had been our combined power that had done it. And only with the use of the crystals. But why shatter her newfound confidence?

More importantly, why tell her my secret when I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could trust her?

Thirty-Six

Nyah

I’d missed a storm that Rune warned had been traumatic for everyone. It wasn’t as though I was sorry I’d been saved the turmoil. But it was more than disconcerting missing out on chunks of time. Especially when things happened that could have meant the death of us all.

When I blinked my eyes open, Rivven was standing over me, leaning against the doorframe that led below. I grinned, and a small smile curled his lips beneath his now wild beard. I couldn’t keep from tugging on it.

“Ow,” he complained, rubbing at his chin.

“Sorry,” I lied, then bit my bottom lip.

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, you aren’t. Not even a little bit.”

“Guilty,” I admitted, reaching up to do it again.

This time he caught my wrist and leaned in. It felt so natural, so carefree, and our lips nearly collided. But at the last second, he froze, and I jerked backward, pulling my hand free. We stayed silent for a heartbeat as our accelerated breaths filled the air. I rubbed absently at my wrist, which felt too bony, my fingers too long and thin.

“This is torture,” Rivven whispered, as though the act of admitting it alone had cost him.

It was. But neither of us would use Rune’s body that way.

“We should reach the isles within a day or so,” Rivven said, voice thick as he changed the subject.

“Great.” Everything I really wanted to say became tangled in my throat. It wouldn’t help to pine. I just hoped that Rune was right and that whatever we found when we reached Synbari would help her figure out how to give me my own body back, gods or no gods. And then…and then I’d find a way to be alone with Rivven and show him exactly how much I missed touching him.