62

Kaylin

Ash’s rescue must be timed perfectly. It’s too risky to leap from the waves and snatch her from the guard’s hands. There’s no boat to whisk her away on. She can’t swim to shore from here. Not in chains. I dart after the Sierrak vessel, avoiding the rip created by the sinking Shearwater masts behind me. “Salila?”

“You’ve found her?” Salila’s voice is faint. She’s traveled far as well, but turns out, in the wrong direction.

“Ash is on a Sierrak ship heading north.”

“I’m certain it was Baiseen who took her. Flew the shearwater flag.”

I really don’t want to explain all this. “Baiseen had her. Sierrak overtook her. It happened fast.”

“I’ll come back.”

“Bring the yacht.”

“You want me to sail that log? I’m not—”

“Have Rosie tow it with her teeth if you like. I don’t care. We’re too far from shore for Ash. She’s unconscious and in chains.”

“Keep her head above water then.”

“I don’t have her yet.” A situation that heats my blood to boiling. “They carried her across the gangplank, but she was too dazed to hear me, or recognize me in the water.”

“My poor brother. Have you thought that they bound her in rune chains? Likely she can’t hear a bull horn next to her ear if that’s the case.” Salila huffs. “And what lander girl expects to see her beau under the sea, in the middle of the ocean. Maybe if she knew the truth…”

“You’re an expert on landers now?”

“More than you, apparently.” She outright laughs. “It would make things so much simpler going forward if you told her what you are.”

“I’m going to! But can you hurry along? I’m not far north of the Gap.”

“Fine. Please save some Sierraks for me.” She smacks her lips.

“I plan on doing this without excessive bloodshed.”

“Whyever for?”

I don’t try to explain that, either, mainly because it’s a valid question. I’ve no idea why I have tempered my natural approach to such things. All I know is, I don’t want Ash to wade through an entire disemboweled crew when I break her out of the hold. Not if there is another way. “Just bring the yacht.”

“And then what?”

“I’m getting her out of the hold and taking her to Whitewing, as Marcus asked.”

“Marcus? I will help.” A sigh escapes her lips. It almost sounds genuine.

“A little advice. When you emerge onto land again, try not to kill anyone. Goes for you, too, Rosie.”

“Spoilsport.” They both huff and are gone.

I swim across the current, staying a few fathoms deep until I rise under the hull, listening for her heartbeat. I hear it, strong and even. “Ash, lass?”

She doesn’t answer, but I know she is still alive. I feel her presence, vague and amorphous, even if I can’t hear her thoughts.

With a knife between my teeth, I climb, crab-like, up the side of the ship. I slink over the railing and into the lifeboat. The sun is soon to set, so I refine my plan. I’ll wait until dark to find her in the hold, escaping with minimal noise and harm to the crew.

Failing that, I’ll kill every last one of her captors, and sink the Sierrak ship to mark their watery graves.