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“I do not thank you. I thank the Creator you still care about dead oaths, even though you care nothing for living men.” I rest my head on Keliveth’s shoulder and curl my limbs around him protectively.
Falamar stands, looking at us in silence for a long moment. At last he turns to leave.
“Maybe someday you will tire of being such a little king,” I call after him.
His only answer is the click of the door and the lock behind him.
Chapter 14
Keliveth
––––––––
I’ve dived too deep.
I flail against the currents as they pull me down into a black abyss. My lungs burn until the fiery pain consumes me.
Somewhere, there are voices shouting. Lights flicker on the edges of my sight as if calling me, but I cannot answer. I have no words left, and no way to speak them anyway. Then even the lights and voices fade to nothing, and I fade with them.
I’m a fool.
I should have known it would come to this.
After all, is there any other way a prophet’s story can end?
My eyes open to thefeeble warmth of early spring sunlight on my face. I blink away the nightmare, eager for morning—and then frown as the world comes into focus.
Something is wrong. Evya hovers over me, her face wan and worried as she calls my name. I bolt upright, reaching for her. Ready to pull her close and fend off whatever danger must be at hand.
Pain drives through my side like a dozen arrows. I fall back against the cushions with a gasp.
Cushions. I’m in a bed. My own bed, in my chamber with the starry ceiling. A strange emptiness nags at my mind, and I realize the voice of the sea is just a distant murmur.
“What happened?” My words are little more than a croak. Hesitantly I reach for my aching side, and my fingers touch bandages.
“Don’t touch.” Evya gently swats my hand away. “Your wounds are still healing.”
