Trevn didn’t know about that, but her talk had bolstered his resolve. “You might have to give me that Renegade speech again and again until those apologies start coming.”
“I promise to. Now, can you come to the school and see what the new students have accomplished? I could give you the Renegade speech in person.”
“I wish I could, but I need to make an offering for Hinck. Then Hawley is bringing more battle records to my office in hopes we might be able to find something we’ve missed.”
“That sounds dreadfully boring.”
“Desperate is more the term I’d use.”
“Take heart, my love. You will not need any of those battle plans because Hinckdan will be successful and end all this worry. I will ask Zeroah to pray, though I’m sure she already is.”
“You too?”
“I’m not as good at prayer as Zeroah, but I will try.”
“Thank you, Mouse.” Praying was just about all Trevn could do at present, and he would do it with all his heart in hopes that his will and Arman’s were one and the same.
Hinck
Grayson and Miss Onika appeared in Hinck’s cabin like apparitions from a dream. They had come and gone several times throughout the night and early this morning, testing their ability to travel around the ship. Grayson could move between the physical realm and the Veil, but Onika could not leave the Veil—said her body was back in Rogedoth’s camp and there it must stay. Hinck hoped nothing would happen to it while her spirit was here. He could only see her because of the spell Oli had put on him. If someone had told him such magic existed even just two years back, he would have thought them mad.
At the moment, Grayson sat reclined on Hinck’s longchair, feet crossed as if enjoying a leisurely rest. How could the boy be so calm? Perhaps because his part was to remain invisible in the Veil and keep watch while Hinck attempted to murder a queen.
Miss Onika stood beside the longchair, transparent like a shadir, though she was every bit herself. Also strange, in the Veil, she was not blind, and her pale eyes were currently staring at him, which he found unsettling.
“The God is with us, Hinckdan. Do not doubt it,” she said.
How did she know the fears he had pushed to the back of his mind? Everything had been meticulously planned out. Hinck knew where to go and the spot where Eudora would lead Rosârah Laviel. Grayson had spoken with Bahlay Nesos—in his native tongue—and had told him that his son Maleen was alive and well in Armanguard and eager to see him again. This had won the man over, and when Grayson explained how Rosârah Laviel wanted to destroy Armanguard, Bahlay wanted to help stop her. Hinck had given Bahlay a knife in case he needed a weapon when the attack took place. With the navigator on their side, they were as ready as they could be.
Then why did Hinck feel so unsettled? He’d never killed anyone and knew that was part of what bothered him, yet there was something else he couldn’t quite name. But what? Even the prophetess had told him not to doubt Arman’s plan.
Eudora. She was the problem. Partnering with her felt like wearing another man’s boots. After all her deceit and manipulation, how could he depend on her?
He couldn’t. No wonder he felt so on edge. Their entire plan rested upon a woman he wouldn’t trust to bring him a glass of wine. Which was why he’d only told her part of the plan.
“We are on deck,” Eudora voiced. “Come now.”
“On my way.” Hinck took a deep breath and grabbed his bow. “It’s time.”
Miss Onika vanished. A second later Grayson disappeared as well.
Hinck hurried out the door of his cabin and voiced the prophetess. “Wait for me!”
“I will not act without you.”
He ran up the stairs to the stern deck, which stood empty but for a handful of pales, swabbing the old wood.
“Go below now,” Hinck commanded them. “Stay there until I tell you otherwise.”
Compelled to obey, the pales were quick to comply. Hinck took position at the railing overlooking the quarterdeck and held his bow at his side where it might not be noticed. He looked down to where Bahlay was manning the whipstaff. To his left, Eudora and Laviel lingered by the quarterdeck rail. No sign of Iamos in the Veil, though Hinck did see Daliza, Princess Jemesha’s slight, circling the main deck like a turquoise eel. And on the distant foredeck, five small shadir looped and darted around some Puru workers.
Movement on the stairs from the main deck. Jemesha, heading toward them.
“Why is your mother here?” Hinck voiced to Eudora. The princess had not been part of the plan.
“My parents want to help,” she said.
Parents? “What! I thought we agreed—”
“We need them,” Eudora said. “My father is wearing his sword. If you miss—”
“I will not miss.” Hinck might not be the greatest archer to have ever lived, but he could certainly hit a shot from twenty paces out. He glanced about for the mighty General Agoros but didn’t see the man anywhere.
“Just in case, Lord Dacre.” Eudora glanced his way from below. “Don’t be offended.”
But he was. More than that, he was caught off guard. She’d changed the plans without telling him. It was a sign of betrayal, and considering her past history, Hinck was reluctant to move forward at all.
He searched for Miss Onika and spotted her at the starboard railing of the quarterdeck, Grayson beside her. At first glance he would have thought them passengers, but a closer look proved them to be as translucent as the shadir in the Veil, invisible to anyone not under the influence of evenroot or its magic. Hinck hoped the shadir would not notice them.
“Miss Onika,” he voiced, “something has happened.” He told her about Eudora and her parents.
“Arman is on our side,” Miss Onika said. “Do what he has asked of you and let the rest unfold.”
She spoke so calmly, as if he were setting out to deliver a missive rather than an arrow of death. To forge ahead felt like madness, but no other choice remained. Eudora’s parents already knew his plans, and he could not allow Laviel and her shadir to reach Armanguard.
“Grayson, watch Lady Eudora carefully. I don’t trust her.” Hinck took a deep breath. He might only have a moment to take his shot. He drew an arrow and set it to the bowstring, holding the weapon below his waist. “I am ready, Miss Onika. Go now.”
Onika vanished. Hinck searched madly for her in the Veil and finally caught sight of her in the air above Laviel’s head. He saw Iamos too, then, hovering over Rosârah Laviel, completely unaware that Miss Onika was floating behind her.
“Servant of Gâzar, hear and obey,” Onika said, her voice fierce. “In Arman’s name I command you to the foot of your master’s throne, never again to return to the human realm.”
Iamos spun around and hissed, but she did not look the least bit fazed. The sound drew Laviel’s attention, and she looked up.
This couldn’t be happening. Onika had failed, upset the shadir, and, on top of that, she’d alerted Laviel.
Hinck should shoot now, while Laviel was distracted, but with her shadir still living, she would simply heal herself, then kill them all.
“Who are you to order me?” Iamos said to Onika. The voice of the old woman was gone, replaced by something deep and dark.
“I am Onika, a servant of the One God Arman. He has given me authority over you, and I demand you release your hold on these humans and return to the depths from which you came. Now go!” Onika thrust out her hand, as if she might push away the shadir, though she wasn’t close enough to touch it.
To Hinck’s delight, Iamos released a ragged cry and sank toward the deck, head tipped back in agony. It was working.
“Iamos!” Laviel yelled, stepping toward the creature. “What is happening?”
The shadir slowly faded into vapor and vanished altogether moments before it passed through the wooden deck.
“Iamos, come back at once!” Staring at the deck, Laviel stood over the last place Iamos had been seen.
Hinck raised his bow, drew back the arrow, and took aim between the rosârah’s shoulder blades. His heartbeat pulsed in his ears. Arman, help me not to fail you.
A dazzling warmth filled Hinck’s chest and spread quickly down his limbs. He tried his best to account for the motion of the ship, then released the arrow. It streaked toward Laviel and stabbed through the center of her back. She stumbled forward and collapsed on her side. Eudora screamed. Sârah Jemesha sank down beside the fallen queen.
“Betrayal . . .” Laviel’s voice, low yet terribly fierce. She writhed on the deck, trying to get to her feet, all the while mumbling words Hinck couldn’t hear. Sârah Jemesha struggled to keep her down.
Hinck studied the angle of the arrow, how it extended through her body. It was a fatal wound. He’d succeeded, had made the shot, though nausea overwhelmed his relief. He’d killed a woman. Shot her in the back like a coward.
“That woman took a flask from the queen!” Grayson yelled.
The words confused Hinck. He examined Eudora, trying to make sense of the warning, but her hands were empty. His gaze flitted to Sârah Jemesha, who sat on her knees beside Rosârah Laviel’s now still body, fumbling with the cork of a hip flask.
That couldn’t happen. Hinck drew another arrow, raised his bow, and let fly. The arrow grazed the princess’s hand. She cried out and dropped the flask. It rolled away. Eudora gave chase.
Not her. “Get the flask, Grayson!” Hinck voiced.
The boy popped to the other side of the deck and crouched, fully visible in the physical realm. The flask rolled right into his hands.
Eudora stumbled to a halt. “Who are you?”
Grayson faded away and reappeared beside Hinck, flask in hand. “I got it.”
“Dump it into the sea, then find Rosârah Laviel’s cabin and look for any other bottles. We must dispose of it all.”
Grayson vanished.
Hinck’s heart was still racing as he surveyed the scene below. Miss Onika stood with Grayson at the railing as he emptied the contents of Rosârah Laviel’s flask into the sea. Bahlay stood over Princess Jemesha, knife in hand. Rosârah Laviel appeared dead. Eudora was sneering up at Hinck—obviously annoyed to have lost the vial of evenroot. But she’d changed the plan without telling him, so all was fair in his—
A footstep behind him. Hinck twisted just before something sharp pierced his side. He gasped. An arm grabbed his, pulled his body close, and shoved the weapon deeper.
“I’ve had quite enough of your interference, lord,” General Zeteo Agoros said in his ear.
The dagger brought searing pain. Hinck lunged away, but General Agoros stayed with him, hands locked on Hinck’s arm and the dagger. They staggered across the stern deck, Hinck struggling to get away, the general fighting to keep hold. Hinck reached over his shoulder to his quiver and fumbled for an arrow, thinking he might stab the general through the eye, but the man released Hinck and ripped away the quiver. It clattered to the deck. Then the general fisted the back of Hinck’s tunic, heaved him up to the rail, and threw him overboard.
Horrified, Hinck flailed as he fell. He broke the surface, head first, and choked in a breath of cold seawater. Arms and legs thrashed wildly. Lungs burned. He fought the urge to open his mouth. Please, Arman! He kicked his feet. The surface had to be close. Every second he was underwater felt like twenty.
His head broke through and the open air wrapped him in a soft breeze, bringing a chill over his body. He heaved and choked, fighting to clear his lungs.
“The general threw me overboard!” he voiced to Onika. “Can you help me?”
“I’ll send Grayson to lower the dinghy,” she said.
It would be too late by then. The dagger was still protruding from Hinck’s side. The salt water stung so badly he could barely focus enough to stay afloat.
Something glubbed in the water by his right shoulder. His first fear was of sharks until he saw something enter the water a good distance ahead.
He glanced at the retreating ship and saw General Agoros aiming the bow this way. He released an arrow, and as the shaft propelled toward Hinck, he knew a moment of terror. He just managed to lunge aside as the arrow speared the waves where he’d been swimming.
“The general is shooting arrows at me!” Hinck cried to Onika. “Can you stop him?”
“Grayson can.”
“No! I need Grayson at the dinghy!”
But Grayson suddenly appeared on deck behind the general. He snatched a handful of arrows from the quiver the general had slung over his shoulder and vanished. Unfortunate that the boy couldn’t carry Hinck the way he could carry arrows.
The general wheeled around, yelling about cowardly thieves. That, at least, amused Hinck, despite how heavily he was grinding his teeth against the throbbing in his side. He turned slowly in the strong waves, straining to see any sign of a coastline. He saw nothing but water. Even if he knew which way to swim, he doubted he’d have the strength.
Sands, he was dying, wasn’t he? So close to making it back to Trevn, his parents, and Lady Pia. He should tell Trevn what happened, at least. Maybe even voice his father.
Instead, he prayed. Arman, give me strength. I did as you asked. You didn’t promise I would live, so if this is the end, I suppose I died well enough. One threat against Trevn has been stopped, so that, at least, is good. Please reunite Bahlay with his son. Help Miss Onika get back to Armanguard. Keep Trevn safe from his enemies. Protect Saria from the giants. Protect all of Armania and Sarikar. They are your people. And while many would never speak your name, just as many or more are your faithful servants.
While Hinck continued to pray, his body grew numb and cold. He was still mumbling when a dark object appeared between each rolling wave, slowly making its way closer.
He imagined a great fish, looking for a meal. When it reached him, however, it did not swallow him whole. Hands descended from above, grabbed his tunic, and pulled him out of the water and into the arms of sleep.
Hinck woke chilled, a dull ache in his side. He was lying on the bottom of a dinghy, shirtless. A rib of the boat pressed hard against his shoulder blades. He shifted to find a more comfortable position, and a tickle in his throat made him start coughing.
“Here.” Someone held out a carafe.
Hinck reached for it and winced at a sharp pain in his side. The knife was gone, and strips of what looked like his favorite green tunic had been wrapped around his waist.
The person vanished, then hands were pushing at Hinck’s back, helping him sit. He glanced behind him. It was Grayson. Once Hinck was sitting up, Grayson disappeared again. The dinghy rocked, and Hinck faced forward to find the root child sitting on a bench in the middle of the boat, handing Hinck the carafe.
“You thirsty?” he asked. Frizzy wisps of hair had fallen out of the thong at the back of his head and hung around his chin. He looked like a young pirate.
Hinck accepted the carafe and guzzled a long swig of water. He took in his surroundings. Bahlay Nesos was rowing. The sky was pink, purple, and orange; the sun had nearly set. Random objects had been piled around Hinck. His personal trunk from his cabin on the Greenore. His bow and quiver of arrows. His sword. A silver platter of tarts sat on the bench beside Grayson. A basket full of clothing was topped with rounds of bread. A collection of empty bottles on the floor, which Hinck recognized from Rogedoth’s collection of evenroot.
“You hungry?” Grayson asked. “I have all kinds of food.”
“How in all the Northsea did you get all this in the boat in time to fish me out of the water?” Hinck asked, his voice scratchy.
“I fetched all this after,” Grayson said. “Miss Onika helped me decide what was important enough to go back for.”
“If you can carry things when you move, why can’t you carry people?” Hinck wished the boy could have fished him out of the water before he’d nearly drowned.
Grayson tucked his loose hair back behind one ear and frowned. “Never thought to try.”
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br /> “Well, why not?”
A shrug. “What if it didn’t work?”
What kind of an answer was that? “What if it did?”
Grayson merely stared.
Hinck took another long drink of water. “Why not test it with a chicken or piglet or something meant to die anyway?” he asked. “Because if you could carry people the way you carry things . . . well, that would be incredible.”
Grayson’s blank stare curled into a wide smile. “That’s a good idea about the pig. I’ll try it.” And he vanished, making the dinghy rock.
Hang it all. “Grayson, come back here at once,” Hinck voiced. “You can practice later. I need to talk with you now.”
The boy reappeared in the boat, jolting it again in the water. “Sorry.”
Bahlay chuckled and shook his head.
Hinck knew how he felt. “Who tended to my wound?” he asked.
Grayson nodded to Bahlay. “Master Nesos knows lots of things. He was captain of the Weema-ell. On our voyage across the sea, Randmuir Khal of the Omatta attacked Master Nesos’s ship and put all the survivors into some dinghies, including his son, Maleen. The Seffynaw picked them up. They’re from Gallimau, which is an island chain in the Land of Shards.”
“Please give him my thanks for helping me.”
“Kia ora,” Grayson said to the pale as he pointed to Hinck’s side.
Bahlay nodded and continued to row.
“Where is Miss Onika?” Hinck asked.
“She returned to her body,” Grayson said. “And I already told Rosâr Trevn everything that happened, but he wants to talk to you when you wake up. It looks like Lady Eudora and her parents might be sailing on to Armanguard. They don’t have any evenroot now, thanks to us, but they do have an army of five hundred compelled pales. The general was giving them a talk about how to fight when I was on board last. I think they might attack Armanguard.”
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