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Only Raum, Ari, and Valen had journeyed with me to the seashore. The risk of any patrolling skydguard catching us in so great a number was too high.
Dangerous as traipsing the woods was, I believed I had the simpler assignment. Malin and Tova were the ones left to manage a disoriented Luca now that Niklas’s sleeping elixirs had worn off. I’d witnessed Luca the first time he learned Dagny had been sold to the cheer houses.
It was a pitiful sight that would leave any heart barren and bereft.
The thought of it all drew my eyes to Valen. He stood silent and stoic near the edge of the sea, staring at the dark horizon as if his thoughts were buried somewhere in the distance.
For Dagny. Ash. Hanna. Von. For the little princess and the king’s warriors. My stomach flipped and my heart soured at the sacrifice he would make to ensure our plan succeeded.
True, I didn’t fully understand the meaning of this curse he’d endured. I didn’t truly understand how such mesmer—or whatever magic it was—worked. Was it literal? Did the king sprout tusks and claws and fur? Did he become a ghastly sort of wolf? Or was it metaphorical in that his actions were beastly?
Could a curse undone be cast again? Was this even the only way to do this? We knew a war was coming, perhaps we should trust our forces more and merely attack the old-fashioned way. Axes, swords, and blood.
But if a few of us managed to survive, what was the cost? Would we dent the Black Palace enough to claim the throne? Doubtful. If we did not claim the throne, no mistake, a wounded Black Palace would turn their violence on a weakened Etta and attack the North.
They would rob Valen, Elise, and their people of their hard-fought, infantile victory.
“I fear your thoughts will break your skull if you do not cease them, Kase.” Valen let out a rough chuckle without turning around.
I rolled my eyes and stepped beside him. “I am losing my talent at mystery. Malin knows what I think before I do, and now, apparently, so do you.”
Valen smiled, a distant look, but a smile all the same. “Stop whirling your brain for my sake. This is the move, and we see it through. Isn’t that your motto?”
“Plans can change.”
“But you feel it, right? This is the best,safest, move to make.” He leveled me in a tight stare, his eyes boring into mine. Almost daring me to oppose him.
I couldn’t. Despise this plan as I did, there was a gnawing against my innards that Eryka’s premonition gave us a flicker of light in the dark. A possible way to save our folk without destroying the others.
“I did not come to fight in your war, only to send you back to one of the hells in mine.”
There it was. The guilt I hated to admit.
Had I never made myself known on the shores of the North turns ago, I still believed they would’ve been victorious. But Malin would not be in danger, of course the dreadful downside would have been never reuniting. Herja wouldn’t have employed the Guild of Kryv to find Hagen, but could’ve hunted him down another way, and Valen and Elise would not be facing the end of love they had suffered to keep.
“Don’t do that,” Valen warned. He squared his body to mine. “This fight was destined to come. You sense it the same as me. There is a darkness in the soil of these kingdoms, and I fear it has only begun.” Valen cupped a hand behind my neck like I’d seen him do with Halvar, Tor, with hisbrother. “Four fated queens, isn’t that the story you once told Elise? By my count, we are not yet halfway done, my friend.”
My jaw pulsed. The fable of fated queens destined to save the lands from an evil power, each retelling was written a little differently, and kept pushing further from myth and closer to the truth.
“Then we ought to finish it quickly,” I said darkly. “I’m tired of folk trying to kill me.”
Valen laughed and nodded. “I will drink to that when this is over.”
“Where is your vessel, fae?” Raum grumbled. “Do you plan to swim to the West, or did your folk abandon you?”
Valen and I strode over to where Thorvald sifted through the black sand at the water’s edge. The sea fae turned his gaze to Raum and smirked. “Stand back. They were never far.”
Thorvald stripped the fur cloak from his shoulders, flicked his gold coin, and stepped up to his ankles in the gentle lap of the tide. When he tossed his coin into the air again, he let it fall into the sea.
Nothing happened. For a moment.
Thorvald retrieved his coin from the shallow water, then it all changed.
Like a blade slicing through the current, the sea split as a form emerged from the water. White foam undulated as the tides pulled back, as watery walls rose in a wide, violent seam. I steeled myself, shadowing my utter amazement as, from the depths of the sea, a ship emerged.
Not a typical longship like those of the Kryv or the North. This ship had three masts, square sails, and the stempost jutted with a screeching, fanged woman on the front instead of a sea serpent. The wood planks were painted black, the sails were stained dark red, reminding me of fresh blood. Wind gathered around the keel and hull, spewing mist against our faces as the ship carved its way to the surface. Water and sea moss dripped from the rails, the riggings, the masts. The wood groaned as the ship rocked side to side.
A few moments later, the sea toppled in on itself once more, and the ship dipped and bobbed, righting itself on the surface.
