The Deepest Blue(43)

Roe! Palia! Where were they? Were they—

Mayara spotted a few figures climbing out of the water onto the sand. One of them was Roe. Even though she must have walked from the ship, almost certainly slicing her feet, she was helping Palia out of the breaking waves. Not dead! Oh, thank the Great Mother.

I shouldn’t have left them. Never mind what Sorka had said about groups being targets. She shouldn’t have abandoned her friends—her new sisters—to their fate. She’d made a mistake, abandoning them. She should have stuck with them, like Roe had . . .

Switching directions, Mayara began to swim toward them—

One of the spirits noticed her. She felt its attention shift to her—it felt as if claws had pinched her brain—and then she saw the spirit across the waves. It was a warped kind of dolphin, with a body covered in iridescent scales and a mouth full of rocklike teeth. Skimming over the surface, it swam for her.

Pivoting in the water, Mayara fled, thinking of nothing but getting away. She didn’t try to control or deflect the spirit—and didn’t even remember she could. She focused only on the pull of the water against her hands, and she breathed as if she were in a race, sparingly, with efficient gulps that were a part of her rhythm.

Concentrating, she lost herself within the rhythm of her strokes. One, two, three . . .

She felt the spirit recede behind her, drawn to easier and more tempting prey.

I should help them! I shouldn’t be running away. Roe can’t even swim. . . .

But Roe had made it to shore. Palia too. And others, though she hadn’t gotten a good look at who. They’re safer without me. We’re all safer apart.

Sorka had said the spirits were drawn to groups, specifically targeting anyone who tried to work together, she reminded herself. She’d be safer, and they’d be safer, if everyone went off on their own. She’d seen that Roe and Palia had both made it to shore. She’d have to trust that they’d be able to use the cover of all the chaos to scatter and escape.

She remembered what Roe had said: you don’t have to outswim the shark; you just have to outswim the other swimmers. Which is what I did.

She felt guilt like a fist in her stomach.

There was nothing I could do. We were told to split up!

But she kept seeing in her memory the cloudy red water by the ship and the image of Roe helping Palia out of the water. Roe hadn’t abandoned the others to save herself.

The next time Mayara looked back, the ship had sailed out of the cove and was a speck in the distance, its sails bright against the blue sky. The water by the sand was deceptively calm, and Mayara could see a few spirit sisters running and hobbling into the thick green.

Trying to empty her thoughts, she kept swimming. Don’t think about spirits. But she felt them in the distance, their ugly glee. She was crying as she swam, her salty tears mingling with the salty sea.

Eventually, her arms began to tire. She was used to long swims, but even she couldn’t swim forever. Looking back, she saw that she’d swum far enough around the cliffs that she could no longer see the cove or the ship.

Maybe it’s safe to stop.

She thought of Heir Sorka’s final instructions: “You aren’t ever alone, and you aren’t ever safe.” Maybe “safe” wasn’t the right word, then. But she had to stop anyway.

Gliding on her side, she eyed the shore. In a way, she told herself, it was not so different from home: there were rocks, cliffs, and even caves. She swam toward a dark slit in between the rocks. Sending her mind probing into it, she felt for spirits. Empty.

Good.

Climbing onto the rocks, she wedged herself into the slit.

It wasn’t so much a cave as a nook, but it was sheltered enough from view that she could at least rest her limbs and catch her breath. Laying her head back against a rock, she peered out at the sliver of blue: turquoise-blue sea and brilliant blue sky.

It was still morning, she judged. And at least one of us is already dead. Most likely more. She hadn’t seen whose body floated in the bay, and she was grateful for that. She didn’t want to know who had died while she had lived.

It’s begun, she thought. It’s truly begun.





Chapter Eleven

Shelter, freshwater, and food. Those were her priorities.

And not dying. That too.

Mayara fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position. All the rocks were sharp, with barnacle-coated sides, and slick with seaweed. Not a perfect hiding place, especially not long-term. She’d have to leave soon, before high tide swallowed the rocks.

But for now . . .

Her arms and back ached from swimming so hard, and she was still gulping in air. She’d escaped. Barely. She thought of how Sorka and the Silent Ones had watched from the ship while the spirits fell in a frenzy on the potential heirs, and she wondered if they felt any guilt. They must have known that the spirits were waiting and watching, keeping themselves at just the right distance to lull them all into feeling as if it was okay to jump in the water. In fact, Sorka had hinted at as much in her warnings.

The spirits are hunting us.

By now, word must have spread that the women were here. Spirits could communicate with one another mind-to-mind. Her best bet was to give them nothing to hunt. Leave as little trace of herself as possible. Hide as much as she could. Avoid the spirits. Avoid the others.

She knew that wasn’t what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to fight. Learn to use her power, and either die in the attempt or succeed and become an heir. That was what the queen wanted them to do, but she didn’t believe it was possible. Not for me.