Rafe emerged from the flames, a black spot in a flood of orange, seemingly unharmed as he cut across the fog.
“Did you see?” Brighty whispered by her side. “Did you see?”
Oh, she’d seen.
Rafe, totally unaffected by the king’s magic. Rafe, beating Malek to a pulp. Rafe, calling upon a dragon. Rafe, escaping unharmed. He was either the King Born in Fire or the destruction of them all, but one thing was certain—this wasn’t a decision that should rest in her hands any longer. He needed to know, and so did the queen.
Zia turned to Brighty, meeting her pleading eyes. “We tell him tonight.”
“Tonight? But—”
“Silence.”
Brighty growled but sealed her lips, unprepared to defy a direct order from her captain. At least for now. Zia knew she was pushing the mage’s loyalty, but she had no other choice. Rafe landed beside them, his chest puffed with all the words he ached to say. The boy had no poker face. His every desire was written in his eyes, his every fear too. He was afraid of himself. Good. She was starting to fear him too.
“We need to go to the House of Peace, now,” he said in a rush, placing his hands on the wheel to gain her full attention. Dried blood covered his knuckles, gruesome against his pale skin. Under her scrutiny, Rafe swallowed and dropped his arms, softening his tone as the fire along his wings dampened. “The king will keep coming and I’m not sure if that trick with the raven cry will work a second time. He’ll be more prepared. We need to get away. We need to go somewhere he won’t follow.”
“Rafe,” Brighty chided, rolling her eyes. “We talked about this. The isles are falling. None of us have wings. You see how those two facts don’t really—”
“I agree,” Zia interrupted.
Rafe grinned.
Brighty dropped her jaw. “You what?”
“We go to the House of Peace. Now.”
“Captain—”
“Enough, Brighty.”
Zia sensed the presence of her first mate nearby, always there watching her back, the support she so dearly needed. When she stepped to the side, Markos took her place at the wheel, his thick olive hands gripping the spokes.
“Listen up,” she shouted, cupping her hands around her lips.
The crew stopped what they were doing and turned. She’d earned their respect. She’d earned their trust. Every last soul on this ship had come to her at the lowest point in their lives, when there was nowhere else to turn, and she’d been their guide ever since—through storms and rough seas, against dragons and against the sort of demons that couldn’t be seen. She was steady. She was sure. She was their captain. So she stifled the nerves fluttering beneath her skin and hardened her tone.
“The sea is no longer safe, so we only have one choice—it’s time to take to the sky. Spout, carry us as high as we can go. Leech and Archer, push with every ounce of magic you possess. It’s going to take everything we’ve got to lift this hulk of wood above the fog, but I’m not leaving her behind. Patch, stay with me. Everyone else, stay out of our way.”
Not giving them a moment to argue, Zia released her magic into the sky and a gust blew across the deck. The snapping sails whipped them to attention. A wave of green agro’kine magic erupted from Leech’s palms, flooding the deck and wrapping around the ship as he urged the wood up. Deeper pine sparks cut through the haze as Archer did the same with the metal. Spout stood at the rail, hydro’kine magic pouring from her arms and diving into the sea. The ship shuddered, boards groaning. They pushed harder.
The ocean swelled, rising in a churning column. The wind cut underneath the hull, swirling into a vortex. Zia stepped back until she was shoulder to shoulder with Markos, both of them shooting their aero’kine magic into the mist.
“Are you sure about this, Zia?” he murmured, leaning down so no one else would hear.
She swallowed. They’d make it—of that she had no doubt. And for the time being, they’d be safe. She was sure of that too. But was she ready to return to the world she’d left behind? A world that had cast her out? A world that loathed magic? A world about to come crashing down?
“No,” she whispered. “But we’ve no other choice.”
“Hmm.” He took a deep breath, then nudged her with his elbow. His deep brown eye held the smile his lips wouldn’t show. “At least I’ll finally see the sun.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips as she turned her face up. The fog was thick. Gray vapors swirled with the breeze, lit by their combined magic. But soon, it would break. Soon, the sky would be blue. Soon, they would all feel a warm caress like no other, a kiss she hadn’t felt in over three decades, the soul-reviving touch of the sun.
The bird within her soared.
For a moment, it almost felt like flying.