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Oh, hell.
“We’re under attack, Sir. A wall of water hit us from the north.”
“Is that …” Malcolm’s nose wrinkled. “Am I smelling brackish water?”
“Yes!” the guard answered frantically. “It's from the mouth of the river.”
“The river is a half mile away.”
“It’s from the river, Sir. The scouts reported seeing a wall of water lift from the shoreline, some 200 yards wide. It, ah, it flew here.”
“And no one sounded the alarm?” Malcolm growled.
As though he’d conjured it, the deep blows of the warning horns reverberated through the atmosphere. His jaw ticked.
“The water was faster than the scouts, Sir. Someone obscenely powerful did this. I’ve never seen anything like it and I’ve only ever heard of one who could manage moving water on this scale.”
Silent seconds ticked. I waited for Malcolm’s brain to catch up. Before he was Consort to the Queen, he served in her navy. He would know the stories.
“The Navita,” he whispered, practically in awe.
“I—I thought so. Only …”
“Only what?”
“He’s small. The body behind the wall of water appears to be that of a child.”
Great Annan’s ass.My father had brought Kol.
Face contorting into a mixture of anger and fear, Malcolm’s eyes met mine. “Don’t move, Raveena. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Where did he think I could go on my two broken legs? Though, maybe I could sit up. There was a window to my right. I needed to see what was happening.
I tried to roll, no longer caring about my nudity. My limbs protested, but I made it to my side. The fluid in my lungs sloshed and I started choking and hacking. Red splattered across the table, tiny droplets painting my sallow skin.
The room spun. I was going to blackout. Not wanting to drown in my own blood, I rolled my upper body towards the table.
Screams erupted in the distance. I sunk deeper into that pitch black hole where I felt nothing but peace … and swore I heard my father ordering me to stop shaking so damned much so he could get his cloak around me.
Chapter 4
Casimir
Winded, I came to an abrupt stop. I’d lost the trace of sound. My head tilted, ears searching for the call which had so easily lured me into chase, sprinting in desperation for reasons unknown. A call so faint and elusive my mind had difficulty identifying it. I only knew I had to follow where it led.
Ten yards ahead was the edge of the closest grove of trees growing between Embour and the river. My limbs held stock still as I waited for the thud of my racing heart to slow enough for my hearing to catch up to my eyes.
I scanned the thin tree lines to the left, then to the right. At this time of night it would be easy to hide in the shadowy vegetation but no souls lingered close enough to detect. My attention drew to the dirt path I’d traversed countless times since the last full moon.
After so many nights ending up at or near this same spot, the short journey was irksomely familiar. Only, tonight felt different. It looked different. It evensoundeddifferent. The combined changes gave me pause.
The ever-present lunar glow was substantially dimmed by dark clouds above, roiling and churning, an angry ocean in the sky. There were no sounds outside the rustling of leaves. No birds chittering. No vexing female. At least, not that I could sense.
Each night, she’d appear on this path, always facing away. She would move further south and I would follow, chasing but never catching my quarry. I’d tried and tried to get her to turn around, to show me her smiling face, to share her perplexing merriment with me.
I needed to know why she would laugh in spite of the ravens who constantly circled. They swooped and dove and pecked. Three nights ago, they’d escalated their attacks, swarming en masse, tearing and bloodying her skin. She’d laughed haughtily, undaunted.
I’d screamed at the female to fight back, unable to reach her. She held still, simply taking their assault. She showed not an ounce of fear and reminded me of predators who lulled their prey into a false sense of security.
