Chapter Fourteen

That night, Harrow couldn’t sleep. Neither could Raith, apparently, since he’d given her a kiss a while ago and then climbed back up to the roof by himself. But that was nothing new.

Raith rarely slept. He liked to guard her at night yet never rested when she was awake. She didn’t think she’d once seen him actually asleep. Every morning when she woke, he was already awake, watching over her. And he would lie beside her and hold her as she fell asleep at night, but he never slept before she did.

Was it some kind of leftover habit from his weeks as a prisoner? Never relaxing enough to fall asleep in the presence of another? She hoped not. She wanted him to feel safe with her—wanted him to trust her the same way she trusted him.

Goddess, she cared for him so much, but there was always this part of him that was unreachable to her, a vast distance in his eyes like a great ocean she couldn’t cross. She longed to, but she didn’t know how, nor did Raith understand it enough to show her the way.

More and more, she was beginning to suspect the answer to crossing that ocean lay in his lost memories.

Unfortunately, from what she’d seen so far, those memories weren’t pleasant. Whenever Harrow asked him questions about his past, he usually responded with “I don’t know,” but occasionally, something would slip out, surprising even him, revealing some insight into what his life had been like.

Not once had those slipups revealed anything good.

Her beautiful, sweet Raith had scars that ran deep. Maybe it was better for him that he didn’t remember. Maybe it was a blessing, a chance to start a new life without being burdened by the traumas of the old.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that his memories were important. The Water was stirring in her, telling her to dig, dig, dig until she found answers. It kept her restless and agitated.

Which was why she currently sat at the table by the window, shuffling her cards. Only now could she finally admit to herself that she’d been fighting the urge to do another reading on Raith. The last reading she’d done on him hadn’t bothered her much, but now she was dreading it, afraid of what she might learn. Was Raith’s past really that horrible?

But no matter what he’d been through, she was certain it wouldn’t change her feelings about him. Uncovering whatever the Water was nagging at her to uncover was a potentially painful but necessary step forward.

So why was she so resistant to it?

Frustrated with her indecision and her own behavior—fighting the instinct was the number one no-no in the Seer rule book—Harrow pictured Raith in her mind and allowed the Water to rise within. As it often did in his proximity, as soon as she opened its cage a tiny bit, it rushed to the forefront. The air crackled around her, the curtains blowing and condensation forming on the windowpanes. She didn’t feel any threat was near, so why did her power respond in that way?

Yet another reason she needed to do this reading.

With shaking hands, Harrow flipped the first card off the deck and set it faceup on the table.

The Deep.

Heart pounding, she stared at it. The black card with those two words scrawled in her own calligraphic writing seemed to taunt her, luring her into some abyss. Chair scraping back, she leaped to her feet suddenly, setting the cards away from her on the table as if they contained some dark magic.

Whatever the Water wanted to tell her…she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Stuffing the Deep somewhere in the middle of the deck, she went to the bed and lay down on her side. Suddenly cold, she yanked the blankets over her and stared blankly at the wall, still seeing the Deep in her mind’s eye, beckoning her to finish the reading.

The room was dark—her candle had been extinguished in the burst of magic. Raith was still on the roof, and she knew he wouldn’t leave without telling her, because he’d promised in that quiet, intense way of his, and his word bound him. He had willingly fettered himself because he wanted her to trust him.

She wished he would come back inside to hold her but didn’t want to call him in. If he wanted to be alone, he deserved to have the freedom to choose.

Her heart ached. Her eyes blurred with tears. All the while, the image of the Deep wouldn’t leave her head.

Finally, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, hoping to find some peace there.

…

Half an hour or so later, Raith crept back inside through the bedroom window. He felt strangely apprehensive, like some great threat lurked around the corner, but he couldn’t figure out what it was or when it would strike.

Earlier, he’d gone back to the roof alone, feeling some kind of impending isolation about to strike and needing to prepare. Which made no sense because Harrow had kissed him as he left and told him with a beautiful smile that she would await him in their bed. It was all so good, so pure.

Too good and pure for one like you.

The thought came with no explanation, and yet it filled him with doubt. Surely something like this couldn’t last. Surely the end was nigh, and all was about to fall apart.

Harrow was asleep when he returned, but it looked as though she, too, rested uneasily. A frown creased her brow, her hands gripping the blankets too tightly. He decided he would climb into bed and take her in his arms to soothe her. It amazed him that he could do this for her. He cherished it as the greatest of gifts.

Turning from the bed, he headed to the washroom to get ready. Halfway there, he stopped, eyes catching on something on the table.

Harrow’s stack of Seer cards.

She’d explained to him how each of the twenty-four cards represented a different form of water. Each meant a different thing according to how it was drawn from the deck and, more importantly, what the Water told her as she drew it. Raith was curious to learn more, but when he’d asked her to show him the cards or do a reading on him, she’d demurred, so he hadn’t pressed.

But now the cards lay unattended on the table and Harrow lay sleeping in the bed. Would she mind if he touched one? Surely not. He would tell her first thing in the morning. But for now, he couldn’t shake the curiosity.

He picked up the card on the top of the deck, laying it faceup on the table. It was solid black with an intricate gold frame around the edges. In the middle, written in scrawling calligraphy, were two words:

The Deep.

A shiver of awareness raced down his spine. Something inside him stirred in recognition. He stared at the card, feeling on the verge of understanding something important.

The Deep was darkness, like him. But for once, staring at that card, the dark didn’t depress him. Instead, it felt…peaceful? Necessary? Like it had its own essential role to play in the world, and without it, something important would be missing.

He peered closer, fighting to understand, but the harder he concentrated, the more the feeling slipped away. Eventually, he was left just staring at the card, wondering if he’d imagined it in the first place.

From across the room, Harrow gave a tiny moan in her sleep. He would go to her and protect her from all threats. That was a role in the world he could fulfill with pride.

Discarding his shirt, he washed quickly and slipped into bed beside Harrow, pulling her into his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep, so he stroked her hair and held her tightly until she calmed.

He didn’t plan on sleeping. He rarely slept. Part of it was his need to protect Harrow, but another part was his desire to hide his true nature from her. He knew that if he lost consciousness completely—either from injury or by falling into a deep slumber—he would automatically revert to his real nature: pure celestial darkness, devoid of all tone and texture, absorbent of all light.

Like a wraith. He never wanted Harrow to see him like that.

Unfortunately, something about this night was different. Within moments, he was blinking heavily, longing to slip into oblivion. He fought it as long as he could, all the while thinking of that mysterious card and trying in vain to understand what it had been trying to tell him.

He was sucked into sleep minutes later.

Immediately, the memories began.

…

Harrow was swimming in the dream again. But it had shifted once more. She was back in the shallow water, but this time, she was desperate to dive down, somehow knowing the deep represented Raith. Her earlier fear of it had simply been fear of the unknown.

Now, that unknown was known, and it was loved. She loved him.

In the dream, the shoulds and should-nots didn’t matter. In the dream, he was hers, and she loved him enough to dive into the darkness to save him. He was down there waiting for her, and she had to get to him.

But she couldn’t. Because something was trying to pull her to the surface.

Like an invisible tether tied to her waist, it tried repeatedly to yank her up. She fought violently, trying again and again to execute her dive only to be thwarted with another tug around her middle.

She thrashed anew, diving, only to be yanked backward yet again. Feeling her back breach the water, she fought harder, somehow certain that if she allowed whatever it was to pull her up, she’d never be able to get back to the deep where Raith was waiting.

“No!” She fought harder, though her muscles were tiring and her vision swam with spots of exhaustion. “Don’t make me leave him. He needs me.” Somehow her words carried perfectly in the underwater dream world. “I have to get to him. He’s mine! I love him!”

The tugging stopped. For a moment, Harrow thought she had succeeded. She gave a triumphant shout and started to dive. She was doing it! Diving deeper, the light disappearing—

The tether yanked, harder than before, catching her by surprise. It pulled her up faster than she could fight, though she certainly tried. She broke the surface in an explosion of thrashing limbs and spraying water.

And landed in a room.

Completely dry, dressed in a simple white gown, she glanced around in shock after noting her own appearance. She was in a spacious sitting room. Ahead, a stone fireplace lay empty of wood or any signs of a recent fire, though the air was cold. A heavy piece of metal had been welded around the hearth to block the chimney, and a thick layer of dust coated it, though the rest of the room was spotless.

As if whoever lived here wouldn’t dare touch the fireplace…

Beside the empty hearth were tall bookshelves packed with colorful volumes. Fountains adorned every available space, their pleasant trickling filling the air. Normally, Harrow would have loved to investigate, but other things caught her eye now. Particularly, the view through the large windows to her left. She crossed the room to peer outside, bare feet padding noiselessly on the hardwood. When she reached the glass, she sucked in a breath.

The ocean stretched to the horizon and beyond, farther than the eye could see. For eternity, it seemed. It was gray and stormy, the powerful water tossing and turning in frightful whitecaps that would overturn even the most stalwart of ships. The sky brooded, flickering with lightning that didn’t yet reach the surface, unloading a steady stream of rain on the vast seascape.

“You look just like her,” a soft voice said, and Harrow spun around with a gasp.

A woman sat in an armchair in the far corner. Another empty chair was angled beside it, an oil lamp atop the small table in between.

She was beautiful, her every feature flawless. Her skin was brown, like Harrow’s but lighter. Wavy black hair fell in glossy waves past her breasts. Her bone structure was delicate, her lips contrastingly full. Also just like Harrow, her eyes were sparkling silver, and behind the bewitching color, they were full of old pain.

Though she’d never seen her before, Harrow knew instantly who she was looking at.

“Queen Darya.”

The Queen of the Water inclined her head and gestured to the empty chair. “Please sit.”

Numbly, Harrow crossed the room and lowered herself into the armchair. “Y-your Majesty.” She had no idea how to greet a queen, let alone an immortal, Elemental one.

Darya waved away the formal greeting with a flick of the wrist. “The similarity is striking. You truly look just like her.”

“Like whom?”

“Your mother, Mellora. She was a great beauty, and you take after her.”

“You knew my mother?”

“Of course, child. I knew every one of my precious Seers like my own children, for that was what I considered them.” Her silver eyes flickered with emotions—ones Harrow was very familiar with. Grief. Loneliness. Loss. “You’re the only one left.”

“You know me?”

“Of course I know you. You’re my last remaining Seer. I have followed your life closely.”

“But Salizar—”

“Was under orders from Audra to protect you. Audra and I keep in contact. She’s the only one of my sisters I still consider an ally, and I owe her much. She has worked with me every step of the way to keep you safe and protected.”

Harrow struggled to keep up. “So you knew— When Salizar took me in—”

“Salizar is Audra’s emissary on a mission of great importance to protect the dwindling Elemental populations. His circus is a way for him to do that while remaining in the public eye. It’s for safety, you see. With his famous troupe of Elementals beloved by the human populace, they are protected. Salizar is powerful and well-known. No one would dare strike at him or those in his care. He has done his duty well.”

“But why protect Hybrids? If they’re Tierra’s, and you don’t consider her an ally…”

“I don’t consider Tierra or my other sisters as allies, but Audra has long worked at bridging the conflicts between us. Though I consider it a fruitless endeavor, I admire her perseverance.”

“Why not try to make amends? You could end the centuries of fighting and win back the love of your queendom. You could bring the world back to how it used to be.”

But Darya waved a hand. “Some feuds are so ancient, they have lost all chance at redemption. And some wrongs that have been done are simply too great to ever earn forgiveness.”

Harrow frowned, not sure she agreed with that.

“In any case, I didn’t bring you here to speak about the past. Or at least not the distant past.”

Suddenly, Harrow remembered where she was. Or rather, where she wasn’t—asleep in her bed. “How did I get here? Where am I?”

“You’re currently resting somewhere in the belly of Allegra. You were dreaming, and I stepped in and whisked you away to Castle Vari so we could have this conversation.”

“I— How?”

“I am the Queen of Water. I can do whatever I like. But fear not. When I release you from the dream, you’ll awaken safely in your bed—” She frowned suddenly. “Well, as safe as you can be at present, which is why I brought you here.”

“Why talk to me now? You were never interested in me in the past.”

“On the contrary, following your life has been one of my greatest pleasures in the last century, if not my only. I’d long forgotten the simple joys of mortal life. Watching you has shown me much.”

Harrow wasn’t sure how she felt about the sudden interest from the mysterious Water Queen. Where had Darya been the night of Mellora’s murder, while Harrow cowered beneath the wreckage of her caravan, staring death in the eyes?

She knew better than to voice her doubts, however. Instead, she asked, “Why am I here? I don’t understand.”

“I have much to explain and little time to explain it, but I’ll do my best. To begin, we must go back to something that happened long ago. It was the very event that triggered the conflicts between us in the first place. It was the night I killed my sister’s beloved.”