In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(50)

I stopped dead.

Theodore strode through the thinning mist like a malevolent specter, dark and grim. The night sat in his eyes; taut fury radiated from him like heat. Aleka trailed him, folder clutched to her chest.

She spoke quietly to Theodore, but I caught the words. “I will see to your orders regarding the execution, Your Majesty. And you’ll forgive me, of course, my king,” she said, opening her folder and riffling through its pages. “I am merely doing the job I have been appointed to do by the crown. Both Obelian and Leucosian tradition dictate—”

“Enough.” Theodore stopped just beside the helm, the whole of his attention on me. The open look of wonder, of reverence, that etched his face rattled me. Not once had he ever looked at me like that, not even when we’d been alone.

My heart thrashed. I’d been able to keep myself steady when we’d been together beneath the bowsprit, but now I was spurred by my bristling emotions, by that look on his face, and the thick tension that seemed to grow around us as fast as weeds. I couldn’t stop the awful thrum of power as it began to sneak through my middle.

Theodore’s brows lowered. His gaze fell to my lips. “Good night, Your Majesty.” He moved past me for his stateroom, angling himself through the tight space, and as he did, he dragged his knuckles against mine.

The brief contact made me shudder. It made a sudden burst of oily power lift up into my chest. “Good night,” I replied, only my voice was alarmingly silken, a stark contrast to the chaos that had seized my body.

Aleka made a sweeping gesture, as if to guide Halla forward. “You may join him now, Your Majesty.”

I watched, horrified, as Halla soothed her gown with an elegant hand. Her shoulders rose with a breath. Finally she entered the stateroom, slow and coy, and closed the stained-glass door behind her.

The lock gave a loud click.

My power was a consuming fire, licking between my ribs. Lachlan was at my side before I could call for him, pulling me by the arm toward the scuttle hatch.

I reached into the pocket of my gown, and took out the key to the cabin. I shoved it against his breastplate. “Lock me in and don’t let me out until we reach Anthemoessa.”





15


Imogen


I didn’t know how deep into the night time had taken me, but the music had stopped long ago. I’d spent the hours on my cot, determined to keep my thoughts on my own body and breaths. Despite Eusia’s closeness, despite how fragile and out of control our corrupted bond made me feel, I reminded myself in a desperate chant that my power belonged to me.

The waves had grown steeper, and the ship rocked with a hypnotic violence that dragged me toward the brink of sleep, then yanked me right back. My thoughts were frantic. Spiking, ebbing, crashing against my skull. That oily thrum in my middle had remained, and it felt like Eusia was gleefully tugging at our bond. Poking at the tough scar that now sat there.

I rolled to my side and firmed my jaw, trying to solidify my determination. Though it felt like she had me in her clutches, I reminded myself that I was stronger than she was.

She needed me.

But I couldn’t escape the question I wanted so badly to ignore. What is it you need?

Even letting myself think the question brought a sting to my eyes. There was a terrible pain in giving my needs a shape and a name—it meant I would have something real to mourn when I failed to claim them. But despite my reluctance, I could see the walls of that small home. Could smell the perfume of the flowers curling through the open window. Could hear the distant sounds of the sea crashing across the shore, and a warm, low voice beckoning me out into the garden.

I rolled myself onto my back and pressed my palms to my eyes. There was no space for that sort of peace. There were Gods and monsters and kingdoms to see to, so I closed myself up once more and thought of Eusia.

Her plan to collect power had been intricate and long fought, and even though I’d seen glimpses of Eusia’s past in my visions, I suspected that I still did not know the whole of it. I thought of Halla’s words—

You have everything she has ever wanted. All without trying.

The surety with which Halla had looked at me when she’d said it sent a chill through me even now, as did her sudden willingness to assist me when we finally reached Anthemoessa. Her motives were an enigma.

I should expect nothing of her but duplicity, yet I found myself hoping…

The darkness was lightening. I stared at the ceiling and breathed. I wanted nepenthe. Wanted wine. Wanted anything that would carve down my ragged feelings. As I lay there, fighting for some calm, my mind floated to Theodore.

I thought of his gentleness, his belief in me, even after learning my worst. He made me want to be better, to fight, but too quickly, the soft images of him turned cruel. I pictured his strong, bare body moving above Halla’s. I pictured his lips pressing against her skin, his hands fisted in her pale hair. I could almost hear his rough voice warming her ear.

Anguish blocked my throat. I stood and pulled on a new pair of uniform trousers. I’d taken off my gown the moment Lachlan had locked my cabin door. It was stuffed under the cot in a ball.

Just as I adjusted my binding and stuffed the hem of my shirt into my waistband, the ship gave a wild lurch. It threw me to the cabin floor, knees slamming into the wood. For a moment, I thought perhaps we’d run aground, only for the ship to lurch in the opposite direction. It threw me backward, ramming my spine into the hard leg of the cot.