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Despite her frustration, Corayne softened. She could almost taste the misery rolling off him. “I am sorry for your loss,” she added gently. Reluctant, she touched his arm.
He sagged beneath her fingers, coming undone.Do immortals know how to mourn?Corayne wondered. She looked at Dom again, a mountainous figure, his neck bowed in pained surrender.I don’t think they do.
“I am sorry,” she said again, dragging her gaze to Sorasa.
The woman waved a hand, her face blank as she watched the road. “I am not involved in these dramatics.”
This time, Dom did not stop Corayne from unlatching the door. It yawned open, and darkness spilled from the cottage. He stood resolute and thoughtful, watching as she took a step forward.
“You say you want nothing to do with us, with your father,” he said in a low, rough voice. “But don’t act likethisis what you want either.”
In spite of herself, Corayne froze on the threshold. She stared ahead, into the shadows of the familiar old cottage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dom raise his hood, his scarred face and emerald eyes retreating into shadow.
“Your blood is born of the Spindles, of distant realms and lost stars. You want the horizon, Corayne of Old Cor. You want it in your bones,” he said, turning back down the path to join the assassin on the road. “And she’s never going to let you take it.”
Corayne drew in a sharp breath, a dozen retorts rising to her lips. They died quickly, cut apart by a difficult truth.
“Your father was the same.”
No spine.
The two words caught her like the smack of a wave, pulling her under.
But Corayne refused to drown. And she refused to be caged a second longer, a bird meant to fly, not rot on a cliff with nothing but the wind for company.
She looked back to them, only for a moment. Dom turned and met her gaze, his face filled with luminous, aching hope. Corayne felt it too, the hope she thought had died with her mother’s refusal. It bloomed anew, raw and sharp, bleeding at its edges, but stubbornly alive.
“Give me three days,” she snapped, slamming the door.
The third day came.
At the kitchen table, Corayne busied herself with arrangements, her face a mask. Dark shadows ringed her eyes, testament to another night of poor sleep. Between her half-remembered dreams and hurried preparations for her mother’s voyage, she hardly slept at all.
She stared at her wrinkled and scribbled-over map of the known Ward, using her ledger and compass to keep it anchored. The Long Sea bisected the realm across the middle, in a winding ribbon of blue water that stretched between the northern and southern continents. To the west, it emptied into the Nocturan Ocean, to the southeast, the Auroran. Night and dawn, framing the edges of the known world.
Her inky fingers trailed along the Mountains of the Ward, the soldier line dividing the green fields of Galland from the northern lands and the steppe. Her eyes found a cluster of hills near the Green Lion, the river barely a scribble. It was otherwise unmarked, but she knew—she had beentold—of a forgotten temple there.A temple and a Spindle, both torn apart. An impossible thing to believe.She pressed her finger to the spot, staring at the mark on the map where her father had died.
Where, perhaps, the realm had begun to crumble.
As if I really even believe that.
Meliz woke noisily, clattering around her bedroom on still- rolling sea legs before banging into the central room of the cottage. She fluttered around the kitchen without much purpose, checking the cupboards, adjusting the curtains, poking at the copper pot in the hearth.
Like a child begging for attention,Corayne thought.
She refused to give her the satisfaction and double-checked her papers.
“Kastio is late,” Meliz said abruptly, grabbing the pot from the fire. It sloshed with water and sliced lemons, still hot from the burning coals. She poured herself a cup before adding a dash of bright orange powdered root. A rare import from Rhashir, and worth its weight in gold.
She must have truly outdone herself last night to need such a cure this morning.
Corayne eyed the cup as her mother gulped it down. “He has a few minutes,” she replied, glancing out the window at the tiny shack built up against the cottage. It had been Kastio’s home for more than a decade.
“You stay close to him while I’m gone.” Meliz drained the drink. “The roads are dangerous these days, even here,” she continued with a smack of her lips. “Jydi longboats disappearing, summer storms off Sapphire Bay.” She shook her head. “The realm feels twisted.”
Even in our forgotten corner of the world.There had been word of strange doings all over, both good and bad for business.Coincidence—or chaos unfolding?
“Everything is done,” Corayne forced out, folding her papers away. After three days of hard work and too much coin spent, theTempestbornwas watered, provisioned, and ready for the long voyage to Rhashir. She procured passage papers through the Strait and the Ibalet navy guarding it. She sent letters to the allies of Hell Mel throughout the Long Sea, and promised gold to those who might be an obstacle. All was finished.
