In the Veins of the Drowning(102)

“Magic cannot make something from nothing.”

The price was steep.

Once again, I twisted my talon into the soft skin below my navel. I took the smallest piece from myself and remembered Rohana. How she had tucked the piece of my flesh into the hollow of her cheek. Gagging, I set it on my tongue and fought to swallow.

“The words.” The nekgya waited like she expected me to repeat them from memory.

My senses swam. “I don’t remember…”

“Repeat. Hold them in your head.” I could only focus on the nekgya’s black lips as they moved with the words. “In the wake of the ruined, when the spirit rends, mend and loop and seal. In the veins of the drowning, when blood fills the throat, clear and wash and heal.”

I repeated after her, each word torture to speak, and waited. When nothing happened, I met her empty gaze.

“You will feel pain,” she said, voice even. “You will only find relief in your king.”

“In my king?” My face bent as I tried to parse her meaning. “A healer will do, won’t they?”

“There is no power like that of the Gods, dear girl. Only the king will do.”

I froze. Eusia’s meaning had morphed. I could nearly feel her yearning through my body, through our bond. A warning shot through me. “You want him. You want his blood like you want mine, don’t you? This… this spell was a trick. To get me to return to him.”

A slow pain started in the middle of me. I winced, and the nekgya smiled. “No trick, Imogen. The spell will keep you alive. And you, all on your own, will find your way back to him.” The nekgya was so still, so horribly lifeless. “And if you don’t… well, one way or another, I’ll have his blood too.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to scream, when the spell consumed me. My eyes seared like hot oil had been dripped into them. My scalp, my skin, my lungs, all felt like they were being pierced by thousands of burning needles. My mind left my body from the sensation. It slipped into another plane where there was only insatiable hunger and endless want. It took me to a place where I yearned for Gods’ blood like it was precious, flowing gold. Yearned like it was the only thing that would sate me.

Beneath the spell’s influence, terror took me. Magic was headier than I’d anticipated. It was like nectar—ambrosia. And despite the horrific pain, I wanted more and more and more. I wanted power in all its forms. Safety and control and influence. I wanted revenge. I wanted Theodore and the potent, shimmering blood that ran through his veins.

I would do awful things to ensure that it was mine… to ensure that I was fed.

There was no grasping the passage of time, but when I returned to my body, it was with a shriek. The nekgya was gone. I was alone. Only Nemea’s crown and sword remained at my side. My body felt like it had absorbed the entirety of the sea. I looked down quickly. The seaweed had stitched itself into my skin, sealing the wound and stopping the blood. I pressed my hands to my burning eyes. I ran my fingers over my scalp and a clump of dark hair came away stuck to the tips.

My cries seemed to come from outside myself, mixing with the slap of the waves against the hull, with the hammer of my heart in my ears. Using the mast behind me as support, I rose, and the effort nearly made my vision go black. The bleeding had stopped, the spell had worked, and just as Eusia had said, I was filled with a crippling pain.

For a long moment, I simply stood there. I fought to remember what my own want had felt like before I’d been tainted with Eusia’s. Kill Eusia, find Agatha, keep Theo safe. I chanted it like a prayer. I grasped it like a lifeline.

The sun was warm over my chilled skin, and I let my aching eyes skip over the ship’s deck. It was worse for wear. Large, jagged holes marred its sides. Some of the sails had torn and come free from their lines. Nemea’s eel-stitched sail hung empty above me. Shame burned through me. Perhaps my mother could have guided a ship in this state alone, but I was not my mother.

I was something darker and plagued, something worse.

Bending was agony, but I scooped up my tunic, Nemea’s crown and sword, and hobbled toward the edge of the ship.

Kill Eusia. Find Agatha. Keep Theo safe.

Keep Theo safe.

I clothed myself. I stared down blankly at the frothing water.

Keep him safe. Safe from me. For I had become his greatest threat.

Sea mist settled over me, and I set my plan. I would find Halla and take her with me. I would let her meet her beloved saint before she helped me end her. I’d bring Agatha to safety. The command I sent to the sea was crystalline: Guide me to Varya one last time.

I stepped off the edge of the ship, and the water swallowed me whole. It hauled me up and held me, so I floated on its surface like an old corpse.

In the cool, in the salt, my dream flashed to my mind.

The faceless woman, floating over the waves. No eyes. No hair. Adrift. While a dark, lurking presence combed through the depths below.

Starved.

Searching.

It finally found me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is far from a solitary endeavor. And while I am the one who put the words on the page, I was only able to do so because of the support of the following people.

To Doug. It’s because of you that I write love stories. Thank you for holding me and our little family up. Thank you for celebrating me, for believing in me. You are steady and bright, and our life together is my greatest joy.