by Elly Blake
I will have to enter the Obscurum.
I, alone.
At the thought, the Minax writhed in my chest, sending out waves of euphoria.
“But the Minax.” Its joy was muddling my thoughts, so I pushed it away. “If even one is still loose, it would continue to kill people. To… harvest spirits.”
Her eyes darkened. “All of the Minax need to be trapped in the Obscurum for the Gate to hold forever.” She was pleading with her eyes, begging me to put it all together so she didn’t have to say the words.
But I already understood. In order to fix the Gate, I would have to enter the Obscurum, free the mortal spirits, and leave behind the fire Minax that lived in my heart.
There was only one reason I could think of that she would be so filled with regret.
I laced my hands tightly together, my own knuckles nearly as pale as hers, and asked a final question. “Once I go into the Obscurum, will I ever be able to leave?”
I crawled into Arcus’s bed later that night.
The narrow mattress wasn’t meant for two occupants, especially not when one of them was built like him. With every heave of the ship, I teetered on the edge, in danger of crashing to the floor.
But after my unsettling talk with Lucina, I needed contact and connection. I wanted to be near Arcus, to watch over him, to soak up the reassurance of his solid body. It scared me that he hadn’t regained consciousness yet, even though Brother Thistle assured me that was normal after such a huge expenditure of power.
When I curled up against him, his temperature warmed to mine, his heart thumping steadily against my back like a lullaby. I drifted off and slept without nightmares.
Sometime in the night, I woke to cool lips on my neck. I turned and rested my hand against his chest, my sense of touch heightened in the dark.
“You’re awake.”
“How long have I been out?” His voice was hoarse.
“Just over a day,” I said, my voice almost as hoarse. I was so overwhelmed with relief.
“Mmm.” He sounded groggy. “Too long.”
“How do you feel?”
He groaned. “My head feels like it was cleaved in two and sewn back together by a drunk pig.”
I giggled, then moved my fingertips up his neck, over his cheeks, and to his temples, massaging gently.
He made a contented sound. “That feels nice.”
“Where else does it hurt?”
Pause. “Would you like a list?”
“We can start at the top and work our way down.”
Low laughter rumbled from his chest. “That is a distinctly dangerous idea. Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here instead of in your own bed?”
I shrugged. “I wanted to be near you.”
He pulled me closer and sighed contentedly. “I love waking up to you in my arms.”
I rested my hand on his chest, feeling his muscles through the wool tunic. “It would be nice if we could wake together every morning.”
We both fell silent, imagining.
“Yes, it would,” he agreed seriously.
Experimentally, I put my lips to the nearest bit of Arcus that I could find, which turned out to be his chin. He tilted his head down, slanting his mouth over mine. All manner of pleasant sensations rushed forward at the taste of him, from heat in my blood to a tingle like lightning rushing over my skin. I shivered as he framed my face with his hands, angling for a better fit. Suddenly, I couldn’t get close enough. I grabbed his shoulder and nuzzled his neck. His hand found the bare skin of my waist.
The ship rocked. I tumbled off the bed, yelping as I hit the rug. I swore, not sure if I was cursing the ship or fate. It always found a way to destroy the best moments.
“Ruby!” Arcus barked. “Are you all right?”
I smiled at the roughness of his voice. At least he sounded as frustrated as I felt. I got up and felt around for the chair.
“Maybe I’d better sit here,” I said, “since you’re incapable of holding on to me.”
He found my hand in the dark and drew it forward, gently biting my knuckle in punishment. “Not nice.”
I laughed, freeing my hand and resting my elbows on my knees. “You’ve slept through the excitement.”
His voice sharpened. “Did the Servants follow us?” The bedclothes rustled as he started to sit up.
I put a hand out and pushed him back until he relented and settled onto his pillow. “Not that kind of excitement. We haven’t seen any sign of pursuit. I meant that you missed some pretty big revelations.”
“Marella knows the location of the Gate?”
“No, but Lucina does. Although I could call her Grandmother. Or Sage. I wish she would just decide who she is.”
A long pause. “I think you’d better explain.”
I told him most of it, leaving out some details about the Gate and our plan to repair it. As I told him that Lucina was the woman I’d known as my grandmother, his hand snagged mine, holding tight. By the time I was done, I was trembling with reaction all over again.
“Can you light the lantern?” he asked quietly. “I want to be able to see you.”
I reached over to ignite the lantern on the wall. When I turned back, he searched my eyes.
“This light loves you,” I said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. The warm glow softened the regal quality of his features and the roughness of his scars, painting shadows around his deep-set eyes.
When I dropped my hand, he reached out to caress my jaw, eyes narrowed. “You have a bruise.”
“From our escape.”
He frowned. “How do you feel?”
“Better than you.” I smiled to chase away his concern.
His frown only deepened. “No, I don’t think so. You’re not yourself.”
“Haven’t been for a while, have I? Isn’t that the problem?”
He closed his eyes tight, and when he opened them, I saw regret and longing. “And I’ve done nothing to make you feel any better. In fact, I’ve made it worse.”
When I opened my mouth to argue, he said, “Please, let me say this.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, not the way I should have been.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles, then folding our joined hands over his heart. “I pushed you away when the Minax was tearing you apart and you needed me to hold you together.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I hurt you when you were already hurting. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“Oh, Arcus.” I pressed my lips to the back of his hand. “Don’t torment yourself. There is nothing to forgive. You reacted in exactly the way the creature meant you to react. The more it tears us apart, the more it feeds on our unhappiness.”
“No more,” he said with firm, almost stern, resolve. “I will not let it do that to me again, Ruby. You have my vow.”
“Thank you.” A gentle warmth lit my heart, and the Minax shuddered in revulsion at the tenderness and contentment that filled me. “But you don’t have to vow it. I believe you.”
He let out a breath, seeming more relaxed now, though no less intense as he scrutinized me. “You can tell me anything. Whatever you need, I’m here. What can I do?”
“When I figure it out, I’ll tell you.” Against my fingers, I felt the cool metal of his sapphire ring. It was an heirloom, once worn by his brother, Rasmus. I waited for the unpleasant memories to come rushing back, but I saw and felt only Arcus, and could bring no one else’s face to mind. “Thank you. It helps knowing you’re here.”
“Of course. You’re always there for me.”
“And I always will be,” I added, only realizing as I said it that I might not be able to keep that promise.
He smiled, but his eyelids drooped. “Come here. I’ll hold on to you this time, and I won’t let you go.”
I doused the lantern and crawled in next to him. His arm came around me, locking me against him, my back to his chest. The only sounds were the creaking of the ship and our soft breathing. His breaths tu
rned slow and even.
I lay there awake for a long time, trying to savor each precious, exhilarating, comforting moment of being close to Arcus.
I didn’t know how many more we’d have.
TWENTY-SIX
AS WE NEARED THE ISLE OF NIGHT, the days grew shorter, and the Minax grew stronger. It became almost smug, as if it held a secret, and the time for revealing it drew near. It swelled in my heart, leeching control, its voice mingling with my own thoughts.
The world turned a drab gray.
I could no longer hide the creature’s effect on me. My hands shook with a fine tremor. Sleep once again came only when dawn touched the sky. I grew jittery—a furtive skulking figure who avoided the ordeal of speech or eye contact.
Arcus tried to talk to me several times a day. Despite the closeness we had just shared, I found myself inexorably pulled away by my own misery. I felt him watching me, his worried eyes following me wherever I went. I tried to be gentle as I rebuffed his efforts, but when he wasn’t easily pushed away, I turned to the same methods I’d watched him use: clipped replies, stony glances, indifference.
It wasn’t that I wanted to hurt him. I was just barely holding on. I couldn’t be close to him, to risk my emotions being stirred. Any emotion was dangerous as I struggled to manage the creature’s growing awareness and power.
I had an easier time with Brother Thistle as he didn’t stir the same deep feelings. After I’d shared Lucina’s insights with him, he’d grown pensive and thoughtful, spending most of his time reading the book in his cabin. When he was on deck, he seemed preoccupied. Normally, I would have hounded him to know why. Instead, I was grateful for his absence and distraction.
Kai found my “grim behavior” unbearable. He said it wasn’t natural for a Fireblood, and he took to verbally poking and prodding at my temper with teasing and quips. I tried to numb him out. My agitation grew. The more I refused to react, the more his goading escalated.
“If it gets any colder,” he said one twilit evening, joining me at my new favorite spot at the stern, “your king will turn into one of those icebergs we have been so studiously avoiding, and we will have to toss him into the sea with the others of his kind.”
“I’m not in the mood, Kai,” I said tonelessly. My standard response to him lately.
“Or we could leave him on deck as a decoration,” he persisted. “Or use him as a figurehead. I could remove the wooden princess and replace her with King Arkanus the Ice Block.”
I turned slowly to spear him with a cold stare. “What part of ‘not in the mood’ did you misunderstand? Am I being too subtle? How about, ‘Shut your gob, Kai, or I will plow you in the face with my fist’?”
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, the auburn stubble darker than his hair. Most of the men weren’t bothering to shave, as it would have been hard to wield a razor on the choppy sea. Their hair-roughened jaws made them look more menacing, which might have had the benefit of intimidating our enemies if we were facing human opponents and not a host of shadows.
“That is certainly more direct,” he said with a lifted brow. “But you don’t need to threaten me with a fist when there are so many more interesting ways to keep my mouth occupied.”
“Please,” I said, heavy with sarcasm.
“Do I need to remind you?” It was a typical teasing come-on for him, complete with a mind-scrambling sultry look. “I didn’t think you minded so much last time.”
“Last time we kissed was in a room full of pirates. All I could think of was when it would be over.”
“Then what about before that?” he asked, stepping close, eyes heavy-lidded. “In your bedroom in the castle in Sudesia? Surely you remember.” His warm gaze bored into mine. His hand came up as if to touch my lips.
I waited, breathless for the space of a heartbeat.
It was my unwilling pulse of heated reaction that made me furious. I wasn’t even letting myself near Arcus lately, just in case a breath of desire would set me off. And now Kai was lighting my fuse, the one I’d studiously kept dampened with solitude and detachment.
“No, I don’t,” I said, starting to shake with anger. “I choose to forget.”
Something flared in his eyes. Triumph, I thought, just before he tilted his head and added, “Prove it. Let me kiss you, and if you feel nothing, I’ll know you’re telling the truth.”
Except none of my reactions were under my control lately, and I knew a single touch would unleash the beast. He was taunting me because he couldn’t bear to see me so emotionless and cold, not realizing that was the only way I was keeping it together.
“Kai! Enough!” I shoved his shoulders. He hit the railing and rebounded, chuckling.
“You still have some fire.” He continued to grin. “I was beginning to despair.”
Something inside me snapped. “I don’t exist to amuse you! What is your game? You caper around, digging at me with insults and then flirting outrageously. You’re more changeable than the damn winds and far less useful!”
His face lost some of its mirth. “It is unnatural for a Fireblood to behave as you do, silent and grim. Without life. You need to eat and laugh and sing and feel things again, Ruby.”
“I don’t have to get angry just to prove something!” Unable to stop myself, I shoved him again, backing him against the railing. “I don’t have to be the ideal Fireblood princess for you! Do you see the Fire Court here?” I swept my hand to indicate the masts and deck. “Nobody cares. This ship is full of people who know they might never go home again. And if they don’t, it means I’ve failed and it’s my fault. My fault!”
Darkness pumped through my veins. I panted, glaring furiously. Sailors clustered around us, drawn to see what the commotion was about. Kai remained still, maintaining eye contact, the way you’d face a rabid animal.
“None of this is your fault,” he said in a low voice. “Sometimes fate is out of our control.”
“Do you think that helps? I don’t want your platitudes. I don’t want anything from you, except perhaps to rip out your tongue so you can’t burden me with your ceaseless, nonsensical prattling!”
His eyes flickered with hurt, then hardened. “You are a Fireblood, and as such, you must allow your feelings to flow or you will do yourself harm.”
“I am doing myself harm just by existing. Don’t you see? Every second is a fight! If I give in to anger or sadness or even passion, the Minax feeds off it and takes over. Do you have even the remotest idea what I’m capable of in this form?”
“No, and neither do you. But I don’t believe you would truly hurt anyone.”
He was so confident, so sure of me. And so wrong.
“You don’t think I’d…” My voice cracked as I laughed, and even I heard the hysteria in it before I saw his eyes widen. All amusement faded as the Minax tipped another rush of violent anger roaring through my blood.
“I am trying very hard not to throw you overboard right now! I’m not kidding, Kai.” I reached forward and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pushing against him with my fist until he leaned backward over the railing. I meant only to convince him I was serious, to threaten, but the feeling of power swept over me, fogging my thoughts.
“Do it, then,” he challenged, his brow drawn over sparking eyes the dark gold of poplar leaves in autumn.
Bloodlust made my heart pound hard against my ribs.
“Don’t push me!” I screamed.
His voice cracked back just as loud. “Do it, then! If you’re so certain you can!”
The Minax chortled with anticipation. I fought to keep it down.
“Even now, your face is so blank,” Kai grated. “I can’t stand it!” He grabbed my nape in his warm hand and pulled me closer. “Show me something, Ruby. Some sign that you’re still alive!”
He pulled me to his chest.
His heat. The thud of his heart. His scent.
The contact was too much. Everything in me wheeled out of control. Strength flooded my limbs.
; The creature took over.
As if I were a spectator in my own body, I watched myself grab his vest and heave him upward and backward with a massive burst of strength. With his quick reflexes, he managed to grasp the railing with one hand as he cartwheeled over the side.
He smashed against the outside of the ship, barely holding on, but managed to grab the railing with his other hand. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and startled, his mouth open on a quick, shocked breath.
Jaro rushed forward to help him, but the Minax fogged the sailor’s mind, holding him back. The miasma spread to cover the area, holding the crew members in a trancelike stillness.
Inside, I struggled to reach out. If he fell in that icy water…
I could picture it all as if it were happening. His muscles would seize, and his heart would stutter as he lost the ability to draw breath. He would thrash for a moment, but he would sink. He would be just another sailor buried in a vast, salty grave.
Desperation and fury bubbled up inside me, but the Minax fed on those feelings, drawing them away, then poured into my mind full force. A sense of heady power rushed through me, obliterating the last threads of my conscience.
I was lost.
I slid my index finger over his, feeling the bone under the skin. Such a small thing, a finger. Only ten of those strangely hinged and vulnerable digits prevented him from plummeting into the hungry, churning depths.
“Is this the kind of touch you’re craving, Prince?” I crooned, drunk with the sheer pleasure of his fear, the precariousness of his life held in such delicate suspension.
Kai shook his head, his brows tilting up and pulling together in dawning recognition. “You’re not Ruby.”
“I tried to tell you, didn’t I?” I bent and brushed my lips across his knuckles, feeling how cool his hand was as his hot blood drained from those grasping fingers. “There’s the kiss you wanted. Did you like it? Will you beg for more?”
His eyes registered hurt, and some tiny part of me ached—Fight your way back! Help him!—but it was soon buried in pulsating, malicious enjoyment. Slowly, I slid my finger under his, lifting it away from the railing. It would be lovely to hear him scream, and to hear that sound cut off as the sea opened to receive him.