The Deepest Blue(39)

“We have to keep trying,” Roe said.

“Or we don’t. Maybe it’s a mistake to try to ‘win’ against the spirits. Maybe we should just try to survive them.” She thought of Kelo and how they’d hidden in the caves successfully for eight days. “Hide until the month is over.”

Heir Sorka loomed over them. “Hide? That’s your solution? You want to simply hope you’re lucky enough that the spirits don’t find you? You won’t make it a month on luck. Luck might keep you from the spirits for a day. Even a week. But a month? When they’re actively hunting you, and there’s no one to jump in and save you if you get in over your heads?” She nudged Mayara’s leg with her foot. “Get up and try again, Minnow.”

Mayara didn’t move. She hoped another spirit didn’t decide to attack just yet. She didn’t think she could move. Lying on her back, she looked up at the sky. It was blue, the kind of sky that islanders called a dreaming sky, because you could dream up whatever you wanted to fill it. She wondered if Kelo was looking up at the same dreaming sky and thinking of her. He might be, if he’s alive.

“You aren’t going to learn lying there,” Sorka said. “Up.”

“Is it hard training people you know are going to die?” She’d talked with the other spirit sisters, getting to know them, but she knew so little about this woman they were trusting to train them. Had she volunteered for this? Had she been chosen? Had she trained anyone before? Did she think they had a chance? Would she mourn them if they failed?

“You can’t all die this time,” Sorka said. “Belene needs heirs too badly.” Then she stalked off, shouting to another trainee about how she needed to concentrate or that fire spirit was going to burn her balls off.

Propping herself up on one elbow, Mayara stared after her. “Roe, what did she mean ‘this time’?”

“Oh. I . . . Well, there were rumors. . . . All the ruling Families denied it, but I overheard Lord Maarte . . . Last year, a batch of twelve spirit sisters went to the island for the test. None of them survived.”

She shifted to gawk at Roe. “None?” But . . . She’d never heard that. Surely, if it were true, rumors would have flown from island to island. People would have been outraged. “Really?”

“It was hushed up, but I heard Lord Maarte say it was a shame none of them were worthy. My grandparents, though . . . they think there are too many spirits on Akena. They think the test has gotten out of control. They were furious when I forced Lord Maarte to acknowledge my power and chose the island.”

“Why did you do it?” Mayara asked. If she’d known that none had survived . . . She supposed that was exactly why it had been hushed up.

“My mother was an heir,” Roe said. “If I succeed, I can be with her and reunite our family.”

Mayara could understand that—really, it was not so different from the reason that Elorna had chosen the island. If she’d survived, then she’d have been allowed to see her family.

If I survive . . . Kelo and I can look up at the dreaming sky together.

“I think we should hide,” Mayara said.

“You heard Heir Sorka,” Roe said. “Besides, heroes don’t hide.”

Dead heroes didn’t hide, Mayara thought. Maybe Palia was wrong and it wasn’t “hero or dead.” It was just alive or dead. She’d never wanted to be a hero. She’d happily give that up if it meant she’d survive. “You can be a hero if you want. I want to survive.”

“Refresh my memory on how you came here again? Facing a sea dragon to save your family? Yeah, sure, you’re not hero material. Unless it’s to save everybody.” Roe flashed Mayara an encouraging smile. “You can do this. Look how you saved me from the ice spirits!”

“My sister was the heroic one, not me.” She pictured Elorna, corralling the spirits and making them do her bidding. She probably flew on a spirit the first day of training and was overwhelmed only by the sheer numbers on the island or by bad luck.

“Say what you want. I know you.”

“You’ve known me literally less than a week.”

“Under intense circumstances.” Another of Roe’s infectious smiles. “That makes each day count for about ten years.”

“All right then. What’s my favorite color?”

She pointed up. “That color.”

Correct. “What’s my favorite food?”

“Let’s see . . .” Propping herself up on an elbow, Roe studied her. Her face was intense and serious. “You look like you like limpets.”

“I do not like limpets. No one likes limpets.”

“Sautéed in goat butter and seasoned with sea salt.”

“Limpets take three weeks to chew.” Despite everything going on around them—the spirits howling through the valley, the spirit sisters screaming, the Silent Ones watching—Mayara felt a smile pulling at her lips.

“You especially love them fried and then dipped in sauce. Or raw. It’s your secret shame. You have a stash of limpet shells under your bed at home, hidden because you don’t want anyone to know how much you love them.”

“You realize how badly that would smell?”

“You realize that’s the perfect opening for me to tease you about smelling?” Roe was grinning widely. Over her shoulder, Mayara saw a flash of amber flame.