In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(72)

Her lips parted as she exhaled. Then she dipped her chin in agreement.

Eftan had gone bloodless. He leaned heavily against one of the guards, who fought to hold him up. “Your Majesty—”

He had already left a mark on me. Despite how I loathed the thought, he had shaped me, and I would spend my life working to scrub away the imprints he’d left behind. That burden was already too much. I wouldn’t add his execution atop it.

“You don’t deserve a death by my hand, Eftan.” I nodded to the soldiers who held him. “Lock him in the brig.”

Captain Doxa took back her sword. “Eusia was not here,” I said. “The empress collected her and left Agatha in her place. She’ll have taken her home—to Obelia. We’ll be following, by way of Della, so that we can restock, if that suits you, Captain.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I needed to move. “Aleka, please see that Princess Halla is made comfortable in her cabin. Make sure guards are outside her door at all times. She is not permitted to enter my stateroom.”

The captain boomed her orders. Markis followed after Eftan to see that he was secured in the brig. Aleka and a set of guards escorted Halla across the deck to her quarters.

Then once I’d done all that was required of me, I guided Imogen, Agatha, and Lachlan into my stateroom and locked the Godsdamned door.





23


Imogen


Theodore moved about the stateroom with such resolve that he seemed almost wild.

He was skilled as ever at hiding his emotions, but they’d grown too violent, too thrashing for anyone to deny that they existed now. They were a beast and he a cage, and while he could contain them, he couldn’t stop them from rattling the bars, fighting to be freed.

We settled Agatha upon his bed as Theodore made for the cabinet in the gilded wall and pulled out glasses and wine. He set them atop the table, then darted for the door.

“Send food,” he bellowed across the deck, “and hot water for washing.” Then he slammed and locked the door once more.

Lachlan took a shirt from the armoire and, within the privacy of the curtained bed, helped Agatha from the filthy ritual robe she still wore. He threw it with a splat to the ground. I was tempted to shred it, light it aflame, cast it into the sea. But instead, I went to an aft window, wrung out the last of the water from the flimsy fabric, and folded it neatly. To be kept as proof.

In silence, Theodore uncorked and poured the wine. The resounding clink of the lifting anchor filled the quiet, and the ship began a gentle sway. When Theodore finally lowered himself to the settee, cup of wine in hand, I nearly went to him. I wanted to smooth the buckle in his brow with a kiss and wrap my arms around his neck, but I knew some space would do him good.

I’d seen the look on his face and the adamant way he’d gripped that sword. He’d nearly executed Eftan, at least in part, for me.

The bedcurtains opened, and Lachlan stepped from the mattress. Theodore offered him a glass of wine, silently, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Lachlan fell to the seat beside him and took up the glass. He drank half of it in a single swill. It was easy to forget how long they’d known each other, how close the years of camaraderie, and trial, and training, must have made them.

At the foot of the bed, I peered in on Agatha, who was curled up so tightly it made me ache. Her shorn head, dotted with new white scars, pressed into the soft pillow, and my ache morphed to fury. I rounded the foot of the bed and rested myself on its edge beside her.

The ship creaked and swayed and I watched her in silence until she lifted her head, just barely, and gave me a groggy attempt at a grin. “Stop worrying,” she rasped.

“I don’t think I can.” I adjusted the blanket at her shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

“What did I just say?” But her chin trembled, and though her eyes were closed, a tear slipped out from beneath her black lashes. It slid down her cheek to the white silk. I reached for her hand and gripped it tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “The empress meant to take me, not you. None of this would have happened if I—”

Agatha opened her eyes. “Stop.” She sounded like her old self, teeth and steel, and the vise on my heart loosened a single turn. “She would never have been able to take you.”

“What?”

“Even I was a threat to her ship and crew,” Agatha said. “And I have hardly any power at all. Even gagged, I was able to drown a good portion of her sailors by just humming. She was ill-prepared. No wax, no experience. She had to beat me and force-feed me draughts to keep me incoherent enough to remain safe.” She shook her head. “She would never have gotten you to her ship.”

“But if I—”

She let go of my hand and fixed me with a stare. “I don’t have the energy for this, Imogen. No more unnecessary guilt. You insist on carrying more than you have strength for. You must stop it now.”

No one could make me feel as known as Agatha could. No one could strip me so bare with so few words.

From the settee, Theodore gave an agreeing snort. I searched for a defense, found none, then realized I was too tired to keep searching. She was right. Though the cabin was lit only by a few weak-burning lanterns, Agatha must have seen the revelation in my eyes, because she took my hand in hers once more.