The Selkies were no more. This was Dragon’s Quay now.
He kept the magiskas with him as he oversaw the march of the few surviving warriors down to the dungeons, and as he searched the fortress for any Selkies who might have fled during the battle. Entering a storage room, he noticed a strange shimmer, like light playing over water—there, then gone. One step, and the air became heavy, resistant. One step, and an empty room was suddenly full of women and children. They gasped, shying back.
Reyker spotted a familiar face among them. Eathalin, the nomad spell-caster he’d met in the Green Desert, another Daughter of Aillira. Her eyes met his, widening in shock, and he shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips.
“Stay here,” he told them, keeping his voice low. “I will come for you once it’s safe.”
Later that night, the Dragonmen drank and celebrated and passed out. Reyker killed those on guard duty, throwing their bodies over the fortress walls to join the Selkies. He cleared a path to the narrow jetty where several boats were moored, and helped the villagers scramble into them. He sent the other two magiskas away with the villagers, the tide-teller leading them past the maelstrom, the fire-sweeper lighting their way with a flame in her palm. Eathalin lifted a hand in farewell as the boats drifted out of sight, and Reyker returned the gesture.
This wasn’t his island, these weren’t his gods, but he prayed for their safety, to whomever was listening. He prayed to Lira to forgive him.
CHAPTER 11
LIRA
I found my brother alone in what had once been Taloorah’s great hall, leaning over a table covered in maps, looking so much like our father that it startled me for a moment.
“What’s our next move?” I asked, the question tasting sour on my lips, because whatever Garreth had planned, I’d be gone before it came about.
Garreth glanced up. I half expected him to leave me in the dark, as Torin always had, but he beckoned me closer. “We could hole up here in Taloorah and hope Madoc was bluffing. Wait for the mercenaries and Dragonmen to turn on one another. That’s what Zabelle wants.”
“Or?”
He jabbed his finger at several villages on the map, to the north and south of Taloorah. “Or we could march to the gates of the clans that refused us and show them they made a terrible mistake. Convince them to ally with us. Declare war. All the remaining clans of Glasnith against Madoc, the Dragonmen, and the mercenaries.”
“Can we win that war?”
“Doubtful. But at least we wouldn’t be giving up.”
I sat on the edge of the table. “Sounds like the prince and his commander are at odds.”
His mouth quirked, an almost-grin. “The commander is ready to strangle her prince for trying to lead her people into a war she wants no part of.”
“But they’re your people too. No matter what we do, Madoc and the Dragonmen will never let us stay here in peace. They’ll come for us eventually.” The scouts Garreth sent out periodically had brought back news of more villages destroyed across Glasnith. Even Selkie’s Quay, with all its defenses, had just fallen to a garrison of Dragonmen.
“Mago’s death hit Zabelle hard. She doesn’t want to lose more nomads.”
“She doesn’t want to lose you,” I said. Garreth looked away, his face flushed. “She’s not the only one.”
“You aren’t going to lose me, Lira.”
Yes, I was. Just not the way he thought.
Garreth dropped into the chair behind him. “I’m sorry I haven’t had more time for you. The ordeals you’ve suffered . . . I wish I could do more to help you through what’s happened. As soon as everything settles down, I promise I’ll be a better brother.”
“You’re doing the best you can.” I put my hand over his. “You always have.”
He held my wrist as I started to pull away. “I was going to come for you, after I was exiled. I thought you’d be safer in Stony Harbor than in the middle of the desert with only me to protect you. I kept waiting to have enough nomad warriors, enough fortification in the camps. Losing Rhys . . . I couldn’t handle that happening again. I didn’t want to take any chances. And, stupid as it sounds after what Torin did to us during the Culling, I never thought he’d hurt you—his devoted, god-gifted daughter. But I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
I’d been so angry, so confused, worried Garreth had abandoned me for his new family of nomads, I’d not stopped to think of the situation from his perspective. He’d always valued my safety over my happiness. I didn’t agree, but I understood.
“We’ve both made mistakes. I forgive yours, as I hope you’ll forgive mine.” I leaned down and kissed the top of his head—a thing I’d done often to Rhys, but rarely to Garreth. I fled the room before he noticed the tears I was struggling to hold in, before he grew suspicious and found a way to talk me out of what I had to do.
It was just as well Quinlan had gone with several nomads to escort any survivors back from Selkie’s Quay. I didn’t know if I could handle another goodbye.
Back at my tent, I packed up my supplies and called Wraith to me. I tried to sneak away, but Zabelle was waiting as I rode to the broken gates. The warrior’s features were pinched with disapproval. “Nothing I say will stop you. I am only here to see you off.”
“You’ll take cake care of my brother?” There was so much more I didn’t say: He needs you. He won’t understand why I had to go. If I don’t make it back, he’ll never forgive himself.
“I will watch over my prince,” Zabelle said. “You take care of yourself.”
I nodded, taking a last look at the temple ruins. When I was ready, I whispered into Wraith’s mind and he broke into a gallop, leaving Taloorah, the nomads, and the last of my family behind.
It was less than a day’s ride from Taloorah to Stalwart Bay, an easy trek over green fields and hills. I kept an eye out for Dragonmen, spotting Draki’s scouts with my heightened vision, avoiding them before they spotted me. I was halfway to my destination when I sensed a horse coming up fast through the fields behind me, its rider’s identity announced by the sound of his breath, the scent of his skin.
I slowed so he could catch up. “You’re going to reopen your wound, riding that hard,” I said once his horse was beside mine.
Quinlan smirked. “That would be unfortunate, considering I’m in the presence of the worst seamstress in Glasnith.”
“How many survivors from Selkie’s Quay?”
“Nearly fifty. Eathalin and the other women you saved in Stony Harbor were among them, safe and sound.”