Chapter Thirty-One

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The sensation is nothing I have felt before. I imagined that it would feel strange, to have my flesh peeled away from my bones, the marrow drained clean. Only it doesn't happen that way. In fact, it doesn't happen at all.

"Duhamas!" I call out in a flurry, but the words come out in a gurgle, when I remember the feeling of the air escaping my lungs at a rapid speed, too fast. The water is like ice, freezing every inch of me until I just slump against the wood of the side of the ship. I claw at it, scramble for an exit, some loose vine of rope that could save me. "Duhamas, taemon!" I call out desperately, the water gushing in and out of my throat again, leaving a sting behind. "Taemon! Taemon!" I want him to save me, pull me out of the water, keep the mermaids at bay. They slither about me, their teeth sharp and ready.

A hand grabs me just under the flesh of my elbow and hoists me up roughly, dumping me on the deck with a lazy thump. My hair sticks to my cheeks, now full of raging heat. My heart pounds in my ears and I look up to see a pair of familiar eyes hovering above me.

"Think nothing of it," he says without an eyebrow twitching in emotion. I get up and rush to his side, where he is controlling the wheel.

"Wayland," I begin, sucking in a breath, "what the hell is going on? Where's de Susa?"

He smirks, "While you lot were busy playing cat and mouse with the mermaids, I managed to create a distraction. De Susa was so set on torturing you that she forgot that I hold all the power of these waters."

I frown and swallow. Pain dwells in my throat. I open my mouth to speak when I hear footsteps behind me approaching.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I hear Duhamas roar suddenly. He comes into view, soaked to the skin. "You talking riddles, Renharlow?"

Wayland shakes his head, "If only it were a riddle, Master Al'Taine. De Susa forgot one thing. Her husband was not a pirate, despite what his followers may argue. In fact, he was a merchant in Katan for years, destitute. His wife, Raven hated him for it. He was a coward who stole from the pirates to fuel his living, keep her at bay. He threatened Jasmine, almost killed her and our child and for that, I showed no mercy. I killed him."

I lean in, keeping an eye over my shoulder. "And what you said before, about her eyes, he really did that to her?"

He nods, sadly. "He was not a kind man, to anyone. Not even to her."

"And so it seems his hostility has lived on in his stead," Duhamas chimes in.

Wayland gives a firm turn of the wheel. "So it would seem,"

I lean in, quick to reel a confession out of him. "Where are you taking us?"

I think of home, how much I long to be in Alec's arms again, to see Faeore's smile when she speaks of her visions, of her daughter soon to come. I draw in a breath, savouring the cold, but only for a moment. Duhamas nudges me back to the moment at hand.

"Some place where de Susa won't come looking for you," Wayland answers after a long pause, his eyes set on the distant shore, sliding into view through the fog. Duhamas steps back to examine it.

"An island?"

Wayland, tight-lipped, replies roughly, "More than an island, Master Al'Taine." He shoots him a grave look. "It's Daethas Nild, the Island of the Dead. No one sails there unless they beg for death. I hear there are strange folk lingering there, outlanders running mad, fighting amongst themselves for whatever they can spare." His eyes flash against the glimmering waves, "Women, children-no one is spared."

I feel something tug at my chest and vile rise in my throat. "What kind of folk?" I ask. "Who lingers on the island?"

He looks to me and with his eyes as sharp as a broken blade, he replies, "I hear what is left of Kennah resides there-until The Darkness takes them."

A name lingers on my tongue-Alec.

Something twitches behind us and moan settles over the waves, over the wood surrounding us. It echoes, I fear. I look to Duhamas, and the wolves are at my side again, their skin like crystal, reflecting on every side, transparent, like glass statues. A shallow growl rises up from the throat of one of them. I touch its head with the tip of my finger to stay it.

Wayland's grip on the wheel tenses suddenly and I know something is wrong.

"What is it?" I ask him, biting my lip. I glance from side to side, and yet there is nothing. "Wayland, what is it?"

He stares ahead and without looking at me, he says, "She's awake," before jerking the wheel hard to the starboard side. I hold onto Duhamas, dig my nails in and he yelps in pain and shrugs me off, instead seizing my wrist and holding me upright.

"Stay with me!" he exclaims, keeping me at an arm's reach from him. I keep my eyes on him, on the figure of his silver armour piercing the sunlight. It remind me so much of home, of the place where my dream became so much more than I ever imagined or heard in stories as a little girl. I feel the sun on my cheek and I let it soak in through my pores-I welcome it, that vibrant light so full of energy and warmth. Whatever happens now, I know the sun will always shine for us, light our way home.

Wayland's eyes meet mine one last time, as the figure of de Susa marching up from below the deck comes stalking in through the rays of sun. The hairs on my arms prickle everywhere and the cold shock of the horror hits me hard. I stagger back when I realize what he's going to do. His hands do not move from the wheel-it's like they're glued there, but no, he wills them to stay there, obedient to his mind, his cunning plan. His body will not betray him, not now. His eyes say everything his lips do not and I know from the look he wears so well, that this is where will we will part.

"Wayland, no." I breathe as I feel Duhamas peel me from his side and pull me into his arms, our bodies tilted towards the raging sea overboard. I stare at it, taste the salt and anticipate the ice that will greet us when we succumb to it. Duhamas holds my shoulders and angles me to face him, his back to Wayland's frozen image as de Susa creeps closer, her cutlass in her hand, ready for the kill. Vengeance will be hers. My cheeks flush and heat rushes into them as I call out his name, pleading, begging him to come with us- to be the father Jasmine wants him to be.

Come with us, I plead. Live to fight another day. Live to see your child grow. Let your courage be a beacon for those who fear the shadows.

But I know he cannot hear me.

Instead, he acknowledges me with a single, gentle nod. "Till we meet again,"

De Susa is upon him now, her sword edge aiming for his back, to pierce his heart all the way through. Before I see the steel meet his skin, Duhamas plunges us under the waves, where the cold blue cascade sweeps us away.

'2


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