In the Veins of the Drowning(53)

Nemea had come to take back what was his.

I stumbled over the sand and hurried toward the cottage and horses. “We have to go.”

Theodore was at my heels. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me to a halt. “Go where?”

I looked back out toward Nemea’s haunting ships. “We need to ride through the night, unbind ourselves as quickly as possible. I need to leave Varya. I need to keep as far from Nemea’s men as I can.”

He cupped my cheek, forced my gaze to his. “You need sleep. And food. I’m not letting you go to the Mage Seer tired and hungry. That’ll only make the severance worse for you.”

“Please.” Fear wormed through me so deeply that I struggled to see his reason. “Please, just a few more hours on the horses. Then I’ll try to sleep. I promise.”

His brow furrowed, and then finally he gave me a quick nod. “A few more hours.” His hand left my cheek. “Then I’m force-feeding you and tying you to your bedroll with a blanket.”

My chin quivered as I nodded my agreement.

Once I was back on my mare, my sore body raged against my decision to ride on. The road grew so narrow that the grapevines were close enough for me to reach out and touch. I dragged my fingers over the soft, wavering leaves. Despite my discomfort, I was grateful to be moving rather than sitting in one place. It helped ease the clamp that had set itself around my ribs at the sight of those ships.

We passed row after twisted row of vines, and just as the rest of the daylight slipped away, Theodore looked at me over his shoulder. “You’re tired.”

I hadn’t the energy to refute him. “Is there a place to sleep nearby?”

He shook his head. “We’ll have to tuck in between the vines.” He turned us down one of the rows. At the end, a thatch of flowering trees formed a small barrier between the vineyard and where the beach began. The sky had changed to a deep, inky blue, and we dismounted and tied up the horses. The clearing was tight. I skirted around horses and posts to get my bedroll, when one of the vines tickled my cheek.

I paused. “Your Majesty?”

He huffed a laugh. “Call me Theo.”

“Theo.” I liked the shape of his name on my tongue. “I need to learn how to control my power. Nemea’s too close. Ligea could have swum out into the water and sunk those ships. I should be able to as well.”

He stopped unspooling a bedroll. “I’ll teach you how to use my power. Hopefully it will help you figure out your own.” He rummaged through the saddlebag for the dried meat and bread and handed it to me. “In the morning. Once you’re rested and fed.”

He was right. Exhaustion cut through my every muscle, but my mind still whirred. I bit off a hunk of bread and threw open my bedroll. I wrapped a blanket over my shoulders, then settled onto my back, food forgotten at my feet. “Do you recall the princess’s necklace?” I whispered as I stared up at the sky. Theodore lay an arm’s length away. “It’s identical to my ring.”

“It’s likely a coincidence.”

“Hmm.” That was logical and yet it pestered me like an itch I could not scratch. The waves hushed in the distance, insects sang, and the breeze shook through the leaves above us. “Theo?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said, groggily.

“Why is there a stained-glass Siren on your ship?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

I rolled onto my side to face him. “I’m usually a far more agreeable bedfellow. I’m anxious. My mind is racing.”

“All right.” He stood up, then dragged his bedroll toward the base of the nearest vine. “Come here.”

I propped up on an elbow. “What are you doing?”

“We’ll do the lesson now. I’ll tell you about the Siren.” He knelt. “And then in the morning you’ll let me sleep in.”

I made my way toward him. “You strike me as the kind that rises with the sun.” I sat in front of the vine.

“Scoot up.” He set a hand to my back. “You need to be able to touch its base.” He nudged me forward and just that small contact sent a luxuriant heat slinking through my whole body. It quieted the chaos in my mind. “Good,” he said, when I was close enough. “And I wake with the sun when I’m well rested. Which you, my dear, are preventing.”

His hand skated down my arm, tightening at my wrist. “Put your fingers into the earth. Dig them in.” I dug through the packed soil to where it was cool. “Stay like that.”

The night was balmy, the air light and comfortable. I could make out his features in the moonlight, the sharp cheekbones and jaw. Those full lips. The messy locks that fell over his brow.

I stared at him unabashedly, and damn him, he relished the attention. A slow smile tipped his mouth. “The Siren on my ship. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

It was, blessedly, too dark for him to see my blush. “Yes. The Siren.”

“When my father, Athan, was young, he fell in love with a Siren. Before that, she’d sunk one of his ships. He’d been furious. He had a notable temper, my father, and he went after her to seek some sort of payment for the loss. I’m unsure of his logic there—approaching a Siren like that is dangerous—but his temper and crown made him idiotically bold. Unsurprisingly, when he confronted her, she was utterly unfazed by him. She didn’t care that he was a prince, nor that he was furious with her. He made empty threats of punishment, which she listened to with a blank face.”