Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(25)

“Did I insult you?” she asked. “I apologize. This is the captain’s quarters, it’s not that big of a stretch.”

Although, talking to a bird and expecting to be understood was a stretch. They were unnaturally intelligent, so it wasn’t all that surprising that it reacted to her words.

She narrowed her eyes. “Am I making this up in my head because yesterday I was safe in my family’s brothel and now I’m hurtling towards the Otherworld? Or can you really understand me?”

It flapped its wings.

Sorcha rolled onto her knees and achingly rose to her feet. “I’m losing my mind. First, I make a deal with a faerie. Then I think ravens can understand me. What’s next? Guardians are actually real?”

She snorted at the thought. The captain was trying to frighten her into staying in her cabin and away from his men. She understood that he might want her to stay out of the way, but he could have done it in a much more understanding way.

The raven croaked again and hopped towards the porthole. It pecked at the wood, the harsh thumps repetitive and strangely intentional. Between each jab, it would turn its head to stare at her.

Was it trying to get her to go to the window? She took a few hesitant steps forward. If the bird could understand her, did it want her to look outside?

“I’m losing my mind,” she said.

Sorcha inched by the raven, keeping an eye on its movements so it didn’t lunge at her. The bird stayed very still. She hooked her elbows on the edge of the porthole and leaned out.

The ocean waves didn’t quite reach the window, but the salt spray misted her cheeks. The sun had set while she’d read. The moon spread its rays across the waves, turning them silver and frothy white.

It was beautiful. Untamed and wild, the ocean was the last bit of the world which remained a mystery. A wave crested against the ship and the splashing water sounded like music.

“It’s hard to believe such a place is so dangerous,” she whispered.

She reached a hand towards the next wave. Sea water splashed, bitterly cold and bracing. Bubbles caught between her fingers and popped as she lifted them towards her mouth. She licked the salt from her skin with a soft chuckle.

“See?” she glanced over her shoulder towards the raven. “It’s not all that dangerous.”

A soft thump against the side of the ship startled her. She looked down into the black waters but could see nothing in their depth.

Sorcha narrowed her eyes and leaned further out the porthole.

Something in the darkness shifted. She couldn’t see what was there, or where the movement came from, but the murk changed.

She scooted even farther out the porthole, her hands braced against the side of the ship.

In the darkness of the ocean, within arm’s reach, an eye blinked — larger than a dinner plate and black as night. She could see it now. The entire impossible length of the guardian stretched out larger than the ship.

Sorcha’s mouth gaped open and her fingers turned to claws. The guardian’s head alone was larger than a horse! It was faintly human in shape, but its skin was ghostly pale and speckled. Its mouth was a large gash that spread across its face nearly to the ear canals on the side of its head. Hair grew in a mohawk from the peak of its skull and stretched so far into the waves that Sorcha couldn’t begin to guess its length.

It blinked its eye again. Lips stretched into what she hoped was a friendly smile, and Sorcha heard the thump again. The creature’s long spindly finger was stroking the side of the ship. It paused at the top of the yellow paint and then traveled underneath the boat.

A soft whine escaped Sorcha’s lips.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m going back inside now. Please don’t flip us.”

She didn’t want to startle the guardian, so she moved inch by inch until she fell onto the floor of the cabin. Only then did she allow herself to hyperventilate and wave her hands in her air. When did she lose feeling in her hands? Her heart beat so fast she thought it was rising into her throat.

“It’s real,” she whispered over and over again. “It’s really real. That exists in the oceans. I’m never going swimming again.”

The raven bobbed its head and made a sound like laughter.

“You stop it. You didn’t see that thing.”

The raven didn’t stop laughing, even when Sorcha threw a pillow at its head.

With all the new sights, and the rocking of the ship, Sorcha was certain she wouldn’t sleep again. Nightmares would keep her awake. The possibility of the future would keep her awake. There was no possible way that she could slip into the endless night. But she did, and her mind did not plague her with dreams.





Chapter Four





THE PHANTOM ISLE





The ghosts of his past walked with Eamonn across the ramparts of the castle. They tugged on the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, tangled in the high peak of his braid, clutched at his wrists, and pulled him back towards the gloom.

He shook his head, trying to toss aside memories like water shaking from his skin. He was not so lucky. His mind held him captive and replayed old memories from his childhood.

His father stared with eyes cold and unfeeling. The blade in his hand glinted in the glaring sunlight that traveled up the sharp edge to the point. It swung down, slicing across his face and spraying blood across the battlements.