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The water grew more violent. It tossed and thrashed. From beneath the tides, vicious spikes and strange masts of black and pale and blue sails broke through the water. Those horrid, massive vessels with decks and stairs and three masts instead of one shot toward the dawning sky like fatted whales breaching the surface.
One after the other, they rose and aimed their bowsprits at our shores.
Skulls and daggers dotted the sails. Some had coiled, skeletal serpents. All were swift and vicious. All were packed with dark, moving figures. Sea fae. Doubtless, the sort like Thorvald who could command the sea, yet walk our shores with blade in hand.
“There’s so many,” I said in a soft gasp. Blindly, I reached for Silas’s hand. A heavy weight gathered in the pit of my belly. Worse than the moment I joined the ruse against Davorin ten turns ago. There was something in this moment that told me . . . it was the end.
One side was not leaving this battle alive.
Silas squeezed my fingers. “There are many, but their power lessens on land. We’ve fought for this moment, and I am not about to give it up easily.”
“I understand them now.”
“Understand who?”
“My royals. For I am going to the shore, I am going to stand with the Rave, to defend the Row, and it is because I am unwilling to give you up. It is because I am standing with you, Silas. Their heart songs, theirhjärtas, were the reasons behind my royals’ every move. I understand them now.”
His jaw pulsed once, twice, then he kissed me. No hesitation. No shyness. One feral, lasting kiss before he broke away and tugged me along the parapet wall to the winding staircase of the tower.
Horns rattled through the sturdier Raven Row. The Rave warriors, few as they were, lifted shields off their backs. In one, unified roar, they heaved the shields over their shoulders and placed them in front of their bodies. The first row of warriors crouched low. The second lifted their shields and stacked them on top of the first to form an impenetrable shield wall.
On the towers, archers tightened their bowstrings. A warrior on either wall traipsed along, dipping their arrow tips in oil wells. They’d rain fire down upon the sea; we’d watch them burn.
The Norn sisters laid out runes near the sea, and a brilliant, emerald flame burst from their spell. It slithered across the shoreline like a fiery serpent, adding another barrier between us.
“The sea comes.” Olaf approached us as he secured vambraces on his wrists.
“Davorin?” I asked.
“Not that I see, but we know he’s there, waiting. He sends the first wave now.”
“You were right, Olaf,” I said. “He is bold. They attack head-on.”
Olaf faced me, and he rested his hands on my shoulders. His touch brought with it a sharp shock over my flesh. I shook it away and had the decency to hold his gaze.
“You have been concealed from your truth and power for a great many turns, My Princess,” he said. “But Captain Annon never once doubted that you would rise to this moment.” Olaf flicked his gaze to Silas. “Both of you. Your place, boy, is as valued here as hers.”
I nodded briskly. “We look to your wisdom, Olaf.”
“You shall always have it.” He grinned, younger than he’d been in all my memories.
I reached back to Silas and took his hand. Facing Olaf again, I straightened my shoulders. “Then defend our shores. Until the last Rave falls.”
Chapter30
The Phantom
Until the last Rave.
A haunting memory of Riot Ode demanding the same spilled through me like a poison I couldn’t escape.
Riot Ode said that command, and he never left the battlefield.
I flicked the latch off the sheath of the blade on my hip. A strong seax. I’d cared for it all this time. A true Rave blade. A dagger paired with it remained at Hus Rose, but this would serve well enough now.
It had kept me company, and I knew, somehow I bleeding knew, a day would come when I would raise it in battle. With the emptiness of my existence, I had little else to fret about. I’d nearly grown obsessive caring for the blade, growing accustomed to the hilt, the weight.
The sword would be strong. It’d serve us well.
