Zeph stood over Tal as he knelt on the deck near the stern, holystone in his battered hands, a sludge of sand and water spreading out before him. Her boots had been polished and her buttons shone. The short locks of her hair tousled in the wind, and the sun glinted along the row of gold earrings in the shell of her ear.
“Rot says there was a bird in the hold.” She raised an eyebrow. “Was it your brother?”
Tal had woken that morning with tear-stained cheeks and a vague memory of Kest hugging him through the bars before flying away. Feverish and exhausted, Tal couldn’t trust himself. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had dreamed of rescue.
“No,” he said.
She cocked her hip and leaned on the railing. “Did you think it was?”
“For a moment,” Tal answered.
She clucked her tongue. “I told you they weren’t coming. No one knows where you are. And your family is embroiled in a political dance that has no room for missing magic princes.”
Tal didn’t answer.
The sun had yet to rise over the horizon, but the sky had lightened considerably. The ship rocked with whitecaps, the roughest seas they’d experienced thus far. A large splash had Tal glancing to the water, his breath catching when he spied a flash of red-and-gold scales. He shook his head. First he’d imagined Kest in the hold, and now a phantom Athlen.
A hysterical laugh bubbled out of his throat.
“What’s so funny?” Zeph snapped.
Tal craned his neck and met her hard gaze. He licked his dry lips. Maybe he’d show her. Maybe he should burn the ship, condemn them all to the depths.
“Ships!” the sailor from the crow’s nest cried, pointing off the bow. “Three of them on the horizon. Heading this way at a clip.”
Tal whipped his head around to follow the line of sight.
“What flag?” Zeph called from her position at the stern. “Friendly?”
The lookout raised the spyglass. “Harth’s.”
Garrett? It… hadn’t been a dream.
“Hoist the anchor,” Zeph shouted. “Loose the sails. We’ll outrun them.”
No! Tal jumped to his feet and ran toward the bow, dodging the outstretched arms of the crew. “Grab him!” she called. “Don’t let him get away!”
Tal made it to the bow unscathed and threw one leg over the railing before he was grabbed and wrenched backward. He struggled and cried out, determined to break free, kicking and biting as they dragged him toward the hold.
“Captain, they’re breaking course.”
Tal’s heart leaped to his throat. Why? Why would they turn away? Would they leave him again?
“No matter. They’re too close for comfort. We’re moving to the next location.”
Zeph grabbed the lapels of Tal’s shirt and jerked him toward her. “Calm down, boy. You’re making a scene.”
Tal wrapped his hands around her wrists. “Let me go,” he pleaded. “Please, let me go back to my family. I’ve done nothing. I’ve done what you’ve asked. I’m not magic. I’m not magic.” He choked on a desperate cry. “I’m not magic.”
Zeph’s features softened. “Oh, poor princeling. Magic or not, you were never going back alive.”
“What?” Hot, fresh tears spilled down Tal’s cheeks, her words a punch to his gut.
She shook her head, pink mouth turned down. “If you were magic, we were to hand you over to Ossetia to use as a weapon in Prince Emerick’s name. But you’re not. I believe that now. Thus, our orders changed. We’re to kill you and frame Mysten. They’ve protested the alliance for months. Your death will force your mother to war and settle the dispute over the border mines.”
His mouth worked uselessly, no sound coming out save the smack of his lips as the significance of Zeph’s revelation hit him. “I… I…”
If he died, his family would still be in danger, manipulated into a war they didn’t need. All his life he’d hidden his magic—under guard and under threat. He’d denied his true self, tamped the flames down, smothered them until it hurt, until smoke rolled in his gullet and his tongue burned with ash, all in the name of protecting his family. And it had been for nothing.
Zeph caressed his cheek. “Shhh,” she said. “It’s okay, princeling. I’ll ensure your death is quick when the time comes.”
Tal gasped and flinched. “I don’t…” He paused as realization sank in. He needed to live, and for that he needed magic. He didn’t have to hide it now. It boiled up within him, sparking into a flame, then rising into an inferno.
“It will be a loss to your family, but you’re fourth in line. Your kingdom will live on and your death will be the reason. Think of it—a strong alliance for your family and prosperity through war and conflict.”
Tal swiped his sleeve over his eyes. Smoke wreathed around him in the rising light. Embers sparked at his fingertips. “It’s a good thing.”
“Yes,” Zeph said with a sharp nod. “It’s a good thing.”
“No.” Tal took a step away, and in her kindness, she allowed him. It was a mistake. “No, I meant, it’s a good thing, then,” he continued, flicking his gaze to her, “that I have magic.”
She paled.
Tal thrust his hand to the sky. Magic burst from him, raw and uncontrolled, as he unleashed a pillar of fire. He poured his spirit into it, willed it higher, hotter than the breaking sun, and brighter than the watchful moon. It tore through the air, a beacon to his brother’s ships. The intensity of his innate fire sliced through the predawn sky like a flaming sword, rending the very air, a signal flare proclaiming proof of life and magic. In his abandon he singed the mast and set the sails ablaze.
The canvas caught and flames licked the beams. Wood sizzled and popped. Embers rained as Tal ducked out of Zeph’s reach and scrambled to the stern, toward the jolly boats, intent on escape in the aftermath of his display.
“Stop him!”
A knife whizzed past his ear and embedded in a beam in front of him. He skidded to a stop as a line of crew blocked his path, weapons drawn. He whirled around, and even as the ship continued to burn, Zeph pursued him.
“Let me go!” Tal yelled over the sounds of the tumultuous seas and the creak of catching wood. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“You are not leaving here alive. The world will thank me for it!”
Surrounded and out of time, Tal licked his cracked lips. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone, but he was left with no other choice. He shot a blast of magic at the men nearest him, sending them scattering like ashes, then funneled the blaze to the deck, coaxing and pushing the fire where he wanted until the whole ship burned and blackened and curled with heat. Smoke twisted upward in a billowing mass, sweeping from the stern to the bow, obscuring sailors and equipment from view. Heat bubbled up beneath Tal’s feet as timbers and planks popped and crackled. Sweat beaded along his hairline and rolled down his spine in rivulets as all the secrets and worries he’d held back for so long ripped from him in a torrent.
He could escape now. No one would stop him. No one could. But as his fire flashed in front of him, wild and raw, so did the memories of the last few weeks, the taunts, the torture, the cruel manipulations. Tal chose to lean into his power, his rage, and burn the ship to cinders, leave nothing behind of those who had made him helpless and afraid. He was done being hurt. He was done being used. It was his turn to wrest control of his life from the whims and machinations of others. It was his moment to turn the tide in his favor. The ship rocked, and wood creaked and splintered. Ropes fell, and ash swirled as Tal rained destruction. He tipped his head back and breathed in the hot, hot air. His body shook with adrenaline and joy, all wounds forgotten, his parched throat raw from a cathartic scream.
If he was going to die, he’d take Zeph and her crew with him in a cruel spectacle of power and light and flames.
He took a breath, banked the fire that raged within him, and clenched his hands to survey the chaos he’d wrought. The sailors he could see through the thick smoke scrambled about the deck like ants, trying to put out the fires, while others fled in the jolly boats, jumping overboard to the relief of the sea. Beams that had burned to cinder cracked and fell, breaking through the deck and the railing. The ship pitched as it took on water.
Zeph stared at him, mouth open in surprise and horror, until her lips curled into disgust.
So this was what it was like to be feared. People who had heard the rumors had always been suspicious of Tal, wary of the possibilities of his blood, but they’d never cowered before him. They’d never shouted in panic and scurried away like they did now. The pulse of power was heady, warm and filling, a match to his pounding heartbeat. Intoxicated, Tal finally understood the appeal. He’d never felt as close to his great-grandfather as he did right now, with embers fluttering on the hot wind and terror seizing the minds of those who’d hurt him. He was no longer powerless and weak. He was in control.
A hard tackle from behind sent him sprawling to the deck. His cheek scraped along the grain as a knee pressed into his spine. Zeph’s shiny boot stepped on the nape of his neck.
Rot’s voice was harsh in his ear. “What have you done, whelp?”
Tal struggled and gasped as Rot wrenched his hands behind his back.
“My family is coming.”
“Too bad you’ll be dead before they get here.” Zeph pressed harder and Tal choked, the apple of his throat pushing into the wood. “Clap him in irons. Be careful of his hands.”
Tal called to his magic and lit his palms, causing Rot to curse, but iron rings encircled his wrists anyway. Zeph released her hold and nudged him over to his back with the toe of her boot. She leaned down and sneered.
“What did you hope to accomplish? You’re still going to die.”
“Yes,” he said, voice strained. “But so will you.”
Features twisted in fury, Zeph tugged him to his feet and threw him hard against the railing.
The ship burned, listing to the side. Sailors scrambled along the deck, tossing buckets of water on the fire to no avail. Three warships approached, flying flags with his home’s emblem, skidding across the water with sails full of wind and vengeance.
Tal’s chest heaved.
Zeph grabbed his chin, her nails digging into his flesh. She yanked him close. Her gray eyes glinted. “I am going to kill you myself.” She released him and unsheathed her sword, pressing the tip to his breast. He steeled himself for the pain and hoped his family would find his body amid the wreckage.
A sharp cry pierced the air. A flash of talons and a flurry of brown feathers filled Tal’s vision. Kest dove, clawing his way between the trio. Blood splattered. Zeph cried out. Her sword clanged to the deck. Kest shrieked again, his beak clacking, claws swiping, raking across skin to the bone. Tal staggered away, ducking his head as Kest eviscerated Zeph with beak and claws, and Rot cowered in fear.
Amid the scuffle and shouts the ship pitched, throwing Rot sideways into Tal. The collision sent Tal reeling, his feet sliding across the slick scrubbed deck.
Battered by waves and fire, the ship shuddered in its death throes and rolled to its side. Between one moment and the next Tal lost his balance and fell.
The cold water hit him like a slap, stealing the breath from his lungs as he slid under. Kicking wildly, Tal pushed upward and broke the surface, breath heaving from shock. He bobbed barely above the waterline, waves lapping over his face as he struggled to stay afloat. With his hands bound behind his back, he fought to tread water in the rough seas, tilting his body to keep his nose and mouth above the whitecaps. Sputtering with each toss of the waves, Tal struggled to stay near the ship, but the strong current swept him away.
Staring into the dawn, smoke wreathing in thick, dark tendrils against the orange sky, Tal laughed at the destruction he’d wrought, salty spray filling his mouth. At least he’d die knowing his family had come for him, that they hadn’t left him as he’d feared.
He inhaled a mix of smoke and water, then slipped beneath the waves.
His chest burned with his last breath. Senses muted as he sank in the murky depths—his vision blurred, his ears flooded with the rushing sound of water mixed with his own heartbeat, a tattoo of fear. A plume of red bloomed in front of him as his shoulder leaked a steady stream of blood. Adrenaline and detachment had made Tal unaware of the wound until then, but it stung now, a throb of pain to equal the pressure building behind his eyes and in his chest.
Even if he weren’t bleeding, he was significantly weakened from the injuries from the fight on the beach and the ill treatment by the crew. He couldn’t fight his way upward to air, and he couldn’t swim away from the currents leading him down to the ocean’s depths. This was his death, marked only by a splash.
Looking up, Tal barely made out the shadow of ships above him, the hulls rocking violently. Good. Something positive would come of his death. Maybe his captors would soon follow at the hands of Shay and Garrett. A smaller shadow dove toward the sea, an image of madly flapping wings, but Tal was too far down to be certain.
Tal’s struggles slowly gave way to feeble twitches—his limbs too sluggish and uncoordinated to break free of the shackles. His magic danced away from him, elusive with his ebbing consciousness. His vision darkened, black spots growing in front of his eyes.
Death, he discovered, was simple, not the terrifying and daunting fate that had loomed over him during his time on the ship. It was easy to give in, to let his eyes slide half closed, to let his body drift in the rhythm of the sea. His pain dulled—the scorch from his chest and shoulder became distant, as if it weren’t happening to him at all. But he still felt regret over the thought of never seeing his family again, of never seeing Athlen again.…
His imagination must have taken pity on him in his last moments, because a vision of Athlen suddenly appeared before him, staring at Tal with his wide sunlight eyes, his pretty red mouth open. But the feeling of Athlen’s webbed hands holding Tal’s face was shockingly real, soft, and gentle.
Tal’s first kiss was rough and frantic, Athlen’s mouth bruising against his own, a tight seal on Tal’s lips. A burst of oxygen followed, filling his lungs like sails. Tal surged back to awareness. Athlen broke away, gaze roving over Tal’s body, then he hooked one strong arm around Tal’s torso. With a flick of his tail and an undulation of his body, Athlen pulled Tal through the water at a dolphin’s pace. Even Garrett’s ship couldn’t move as fast in the condition of the seas, but the rolls and froth didn’t hinder Athlen as he powered Tal through the water.
Tal didn’t have much time to appreciate Athlen’s mobility and speed before they broke the surface.
Tal gasped, sucking in heaving gulps of air as Athlen held him close. His arms ached from their odd position, and his wounds burned from the salt water. But he was alive.
He was alive!
“Athlen.” The name punched out of him as his head lolled on Athlen’s collarbone, foam splashing his chin.
Athlen gave him a tense smile. Water beaded along his bare shoulders, his own copper hair wet and dark and matted around his ears and forehead. They floated above the waterline, Athlen’s arms snug around Tal’s body as Tal leaned heavily on Athlen’s chest.
“Are you all right?”
“You saved me.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
Athlen’s gaze was far away and Tal followed it. Stunned at the distance they’d covered, Tal could barely discern the ships on the horizon, the only indication of any disturbance being the thick columns of smoke.
“My family,” Tal said.
Athlen nodded. “I’ll get you back to them. But not yet. It’s too dangerous to swim near ships, especially ones ramming each other.”
“I trust you.” Tal coughed, then grimaced at the wet sound, water dribbling from the side of his mouth.
Athlen’s brow creased in concern. “We need to get to shore.”
Tal stared at the hard line of the underside of Athlen’s clenched jaw. “How did you find me?”
“Followed your brother’s ships.” Athlen swallowed. “We’ll talk more when we’re not in the middle of the Morreline Sea with a storm brewing. We need to get you to the beach.” He looked over his shoulder. “Even merpeople tire.”
“There’s a storm coming?” Tal glanced at the clear sky. The sun had fully risen, casting rays that hurt Tal’s head and sparkled on the frothing water.
“Yes, and—oh! That will help.”
Tal craned his neck. A jolly boat floated nearby, loosed from one of the ships. Athlen sliced through the water, carrying Tal with ease.
“Can you grab the…” Athlen trailed off. “Your hands are bound and you’re bleeding.”
“Yes.”
“What did they do to you?”
Tal laughed. He ached down to his marrow. Every piece of his body that he could feel hurt. He didn’t know how to answer that question.
“Can you use your magic to break free of the shackles?” Athlen asked, his shoulder bumping against the side of the boat. “Like you did for me?”
Tal considered it, but he was weak all over, and his fingers were numb. His eyelids grew heavy with each passing moment. His thoughts slugged through his brain. He was cold and hot all at once. He’d almost drowned. His chest hurt, and he couldn’t feel much below his knees.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to try right now.”
“Okay.” Athlen had one arm wrapped around the side of the boat and the other around Tal, and he looked between the two with a furrow in his brow. “Take a deep breath.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
Tal sucked in a breath and Athlen released him. He sank like a stone for the second time that morning. Panic choked him for a gut-wrenching second, but then he was back in Athlen’s arms and propelled upward.
He fell into the bottom of the small vessel with a yelp. His face scratched on the wood and his body twitched, and he’d never been happier to be back on a boat in his life.
Athlen’s head popped over the edge. “All right?”
Tal rolled to his side to ease the pressure on his wrists and hands. “Sure,” he said, voice a rasp.
“Fantastic. There’s a rope here. I’m going to pull you to shore.”
Swimming on the edge of consciousness, finally feeling safe, Tal nodded, eyes sliding shut. “Thank you.”
Athlen’s response was a splash. The jolly boat jerked into motion. Tal relaxed into the sway and passed out.