The Deepest Blue(27)

It felt, weirdly, like a beginning.

A terrible beginning, without Kelo.

“Do you really think it’s possible to survive?” Mayara asked. She had no illusions that she could survive this, but perhaps Roe had a chance.

“Others have. Otherwise there wouldn’t be heirs. And if they could do it . . .” Roe gave an elaborate shrug. “Palia says I’m not a realist. She’s wrong.”

“How have you been training?”

“I’ve been trying to learn survival skills mostly, at least as much as my grandparents can teach me,” Roe said. “I haven’t been outside the stronghold in years, so I’m pretty hopeless in the wilderness. But I’ve learned how to start a fire, boil water, clean a fish . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “After that lesson, I couldn’t eat a fish for a week. And when they showed me where roe comes from . . . I nearly changed my name.”

Mayara laughed again, then sobered. It wouldn’t do her any good to be able to gut a fish if the spirits on the island gutted her first. She looked at the helm, where Lord Maarte stood majestically, his ponytail of braids flowing behind him in the wind, and something finally dawned on her. Roe talked as though she’d grown up in the fortress. “You’re Family Neran?” She couldn’t imagine him taking his own relative—daughter? niece?—to the island and then leaving her behind. What kind of monster would do that?

“Oh no, I’m not a Neran. My family is under their protection.”

She glanced again at Roe and raised both her eyebrows. Protection from what? Or who? “Do you know how to protect yourself from spirits? Did your grandparents teach you that?” That was the point of the test: to teach potential heirs how to handle hostile spirits. If they passed, they receive more intensive training, beyond anything a Silent One ever learned.

Roe became serious too. “I’ve been practicing that as much as possible. But there hasn’t been much opportunity. The Silent Ones have been keeping watch over me to ensure I don’t cause any more ‘incidents,’ and Lord Maarte . . . I’d hoped he’d allow an heir to train me or at least give me advice. That’s what he’s done for the children of his guards and servants who showed an affinity for spirits. But he refused. It causes political problems for him if I survive.”

“He wants you to die?” That was worse than being expected to die. He could have helped Roe’s odds, but he’d chosen not to. What kind of monster is he? Mayara clenched her fists as a hot, sudden rage rose inside her—it was so swift and strong that it surprised her, but she didn’t try to stop it.

Here was a place to funnel her feelings of anger at the unfairness of it all, toward the law, the queen, the Silent Ones, even toward Kelo who had insisted on his escape plan even though the odds were against them and who had told her to become a Silent One even though that was a fate worse than death. So much anger—she hadn’t known it was there; it had been smothered under the sadness.

She had to let it out.

Without waiting to think, Mayara marched across the ship to the helm.

“Mayara, what are you doing?” Roe called after her.

A sailor stepped in front of her.

Clearly he was there to guard Lord Maarte, which was absurd. It was his ship, and he had Silent Ones who could control spirits at his beck and command. “Exactly what do you think I could do to hurt him with three Silent Ones on the ship?”

“Lord Maarte is not to be disturbed.”

Mayara judged the soldier was younger than she was, with barely shaveable scruff on his chin. He probably came from a village just like hers. She fixed him with the kind of look that Grandmama gave youngsters in the village, with one eyebrow raised and her lips pursed. “He’s just standing there holding a wheel steady, whereas I’m likely to die in a few days. I think he has more time to spare than I do. Let me by.”

The soldier shifted nervously.

“Let her by.” Lord Maarte’s voice drifted down. He sounded amused. She felt a fresh burst of anger—nothing about any of this was amusing, and how dare he think it was.

The sailor shifted to the side, and Mayara marched up the stairs toward the ship’s wheel. “You could have helped Roe prepare, and you didn’t because of some political game?”

“Quick to defend a stranger. How noble of you.” He flashed her a grin that she supposed was meant to be charming. She wondered if there was anyone on all the islands who could find a man who wielded so much power over people to be “charming.”

“And how vile of you,” Mayara snapped. A part of her brain shrieked at her to stop—this was Lord Maarte! But another part reveled in letting her rage out. “She was under your protection, and you failed to do anything to protect her.”

His grin dissolved into a scowl. “She is the one who insisted on flaunting her power.”

“And she should have been praised for it! She wants to be an heir! You should have encouraged that, not sabotaged her like some petulant child who wasn’t getting what he wants.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You should watch your tone.”

“Why? I’ve lost everything and am on my way to die.” She remembered Great-Aunt Hollena. “I think that entitles me to say whatever I want in whatever tone I want.” But then she thought of her parents and her village. He wouldn’t retaliate against them for her words, would he?