The Deepest Blue(42)

“Don’t swim toward the sand,” Mayara advised. “They’ll expect that.”

Roe was frowning. “I don’t sense any spirits anywhere near the cove.”

Reaching out with her mind, Mayara raked the waters of the cove. She didn’t sense any spirits nearby—all of them were packed tight onto the island itself, like wasps within a nest, ready to spill out. Still . . . the calm beauty of the cove felt deceptive. “I still think we shouldn’t swim toward the sand. Go toward the cliffs.”

Palia snorted. “Might be fine for you with your young muscles, but that’s the easiest place to go ashore. I haven’t climbed rocks since I was just married and looking to impress the in-laws.”

“Your in-laws were impressed by climbing skills?” Roe asked.

“Not with mine,” Palia said.

Roe laughed.

It was, Mayara thought, a slightly hysterical laugh.

All of them were delaying. No one wanted to be the first to leave the ship, the first to officially begin the test. Others were embracing, wishing one another luck, saying goodbye, consoling one another. A few were pleading with Sorka for more time.

“One of us has to go first,” Palia said.

“It’s shallow enough to walk, right?” Roe said, peering over the edge.

“Swimming will be faster,” Tesana advised. “Plus, if the coral cuts your feet, you could get an infection, which will kill you as surely as any spirit.”

“I can’t swim,” Roe confessed.

Palia leveled a look at her. “You’re just mentioning this now?”

“I can help you,” Mayara offered. She’d forgotten about Roe’s limitation. “I’ll swim with you.” She’d done it before in far less idyllic waters, rescuing swimmers who had been caught in currents or swum so far they didn’t have the strength to swim back. All she had to do was hook one hand under Roe’s armpit. She’d still have her legs and other arm to power her forward.

Roe opened her mouth to answer, but Palia cut her off. “You heard Heir Sorka. Pair up and you’ll be the first targeted. All of us have to go our separate ways.”

Roe nodded. “She’s right. I’ll be fine. Tough sandals.” Mayara studied her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or not. I promised we’d be a team. It felt wrong to split up, even though Mayara knew it was for the best.

They’re my friends, she thought. All of them. I don’t want to abandon them. She knew, though, that she didn’t have a choice. Heir Sorka had been very clear.

“Still doesn’t answer the question of who goes first,” Palia said.

“Me,” Mayara said.

Roe flashed her a smile, albeit one that quivered around the edges. “See? Hero.”

It wasn’t that. Not at all. She just couldn’t stand it another minute—the worry about herself, about Roe, Palia, Tesana, Osa, Balka, Dayine . . . It was tearing her apart caring about all these other women.

Maybe it had been a mistake to learn their names.

But it was too late now. She did care. And if she delayed any longer, she was going to lose her nerve entirely and Heir Sorka would have to force her off the boat and into the gaping maws of whatever spirits awaited them. “Good luck,” she told the other women. “Try not to die, okay?”

Roe and Palia called after her—wishing her luck, saying goodbye, shouting advice—as she strode to the rail, climbed up, and dived into the turquoise water.

All sounds melted away the instant she was underwater, and she swam forward with smooth strokes. She felt the water shift against her as the other women plunged into the bay. She opened her mind as Heir Sorka had taught them, feeling for spirits, as she swam not toward the lovely sandy beach but east toward the rocky cliffs.

She didn’t hear the screams. No, this was worse. She felt the screams, amplified through the spirits that came streaming into the cove—out of the greenery by the sands and down the cliffs into the waters of the cove. They had been waiting, watching the ship arrive, prepared for the moment that the women would jump into the water.

Mayara swam faster. Behind her, the spirits swarmed, spilling out from beyond the cliffs, rising up from below the water, diving down from the clouds above. She felt their greed like claws inside her stomach.

Must get away!

She stuffed the thought down fast, trying to keep her panic as quiet and small as possible so they wouldn’t hear her. Keep swimming. Just swim.

Feel the water.

Only the water.

Cool. Quiet. Calm.

See the coral below, the fish as they dart. I am one with the water, part of the sea. . . .

She jerked underwater, her stroke broken, as a ripple of emotion that wasn’t hers echoed through her body—it was from the spirits, their terrible glee. She rose up, gasped in air, and looked back toward the ship as she treaded water.

It was a feeding frenzy.

Spirits were swarming around the ship as the spirit sisters tried to swim for shore. The water was churning around them, frothing white with drops spraying high into the air. On the ship, Sorka was raising the anchor. Mayara could see her mouth moving, but the women’s screams were too loud for Mayara to hear what the heir was shouting.

The Silent Ones, standing along the railing of the ship, were motionless, watching the water. At least one woman was dead, her body floating in a cloud of red. Mayara tried to rise up in the water to see who.