At the mention of Elian’s name, I pause.
He promised that he wouldn’t come back for me if something went wrong, and then he did it anyway. The moment he freed himself from the restraints and was faced with the opportunity to leave, he didn’t want to.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my head begins to pound. My entire purpose for being on this ship is to kill him, and when the opportunity came for someone else to do it, I stopped them.
I pushed him from the bullet the same way he pulled me from the ocean. Without thinking or weighing up what it could mean or how it might benefit me. I did it because it seemed like the only thing to do. The right thing to do.
In my world, Kahlia is the sole remnant of my lost innocence. The only proof that there’s a tiny part of me I haven’t let my mother get her hands on. I don’t know why, but Elian has evoked the same feral feeling that used to be reserved only for her. The desire to allow sparks of loyalty and humanity in me to take hold. We’re the same, he and I. Just as looking into my cousin’s eyes feels like looking into a memory of my own childhood, being around Elian feels like being around an alternate version of myself. Reflections of each other in a different kingdom and a different life. Broken pieces from the same mirror. There are worlds between us, but that seems more like semantics than tangible evidence of how dissimilar we are.
Everything is murkier now. And Elian made it that way in a single second, with an action as easy as breathing: He smiled. Not because I was suffering or bowing or making myself malleable to his every whim and decree like I’ve done with my mother. He smiled because he saw me. Free and alive, and already making my way back to him.
I’ve been so focused on putting an end to my mother’s reign that I haven’t thought about how I can put an end to her war. Even if I get my hands on the eye, I still planned to take Elian’s heart, just as my mother ordered, thinking it would prove something to my kingdom. But what? That I’m the same as her, valuing death and savagery over mercy? That I’ll betray anyone, even those who are loyal to me?
If I find the eye, maybe it’s not just sirens who don’t need to suffer anymore, but humans, too. Maybe I can stop the age-old grudge that began in death. Be a new kind of queen, who doesn’t create murderers from daughters.
I think of Crestell, shielding Kahlia from me and laying down her own life instead.
Become the queen we need you to be.
“I should get the captain,” Kye says, breaking me from my thoughts.
I slide from the bench, letting the pain soak through me and then drift away. I gather my footing and focus on this newfound urgency. “No,” I tell him. “Don’t.”
Kye hesitates by the door, his hand already pressing down on the handle. “You don’t want him to come?” he asks.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t need to,” I say. “I’ll find him.”
31
Elian
PáGOS DRAWS NEAR, AND with every league the air grows thinner. We feel it each night, our bones creaking with the ship as she sweeps through water that will soon turn to sludge and ice. It doesn’t matter how much farther we have, because Págos is something that is always felt from within. More and more with each fathom, it looms somewhere deep inside. The final part of our quest, where the Crystal of Keto waits to be freed.
Rycroft is as much a ghost now as he has ever been, hidden belowdecks with barely enough gauze and meds to stay alive. The minimum necessary to make the journey with us. I haven’t been down there, delegating that responsibility to Torik and other members of the crew who can handle him well enough and show restraint even better.
Madrid can’t be trusted. Not when it comes to one of her own countrymen. Her memories tend to taint her morals and I can understand it. Kye, equally so. There isn’t part of me that trusts him to watch over Rycroft and deliver food that isn’t laced with poison. And then, more than any of them, there’s me. The person I trust the least.
Lira may be alive, but that doesn’t put an end to things. The relief has layered over my anger like a film, masking the rage well enough that it can’t be seen, though never enough for it to disappear. But whether I go down there or not, Rycroft can sense the fate that awaits him. Even he can hear the slow wolf call of Págos. From the depths of the crystal cage, where Lira once was, and where he will remain until I give him over to the ice kingdom. He can catch the whistles in the wind, in a room as dark as his soul. And when we finally arrive, he’ll live with them as he rots in a jail as cold as his heart.