The Deepest Blue(9)

Her mother wilted, allowing Mayara to guide her away from the cliff’s edge. Mayara wondered if she might have taken too long, though. The wind was stronger now and filled with spirits. She had to try anyway. Head down, her arm flung around her mother, she took step after step across the plaza.

She sensed the wild spirits swirling around them, though she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. She felt their unbridled hatred and rage pour into her until she thought she’d choke on it. She tried to keep her own thoughts small and quiet, so they wouldn’t notice her. Just take another step. One more step . . .

Rain had soaked her, and her wedding dress clung to her like a second skin, the mother-of-pearl shards feeling like fish scales. Water streamed down her face, and she had no way of knowing if she was crying—and she didn’t care.

Keep moving.

Her foot hit something soft.

She looked down and saw one of her cousins, Osian, lying on the flagstones. For an instant, she didn’t understand why he was lying there. He had to get up! Run! But his eyes were open, and red pooled at his throat.

Biting back a cry, Mayara guided her mother around her cousin’s body.

Only to find more dead.

Cousins. Aunts. Neighbors. Her uncle Dolano, who used to swing her into the air in a circle until she was laughing so hard she cried. Porel, the village baker, who made wonderful pastries filled with tart berries. And Helia with her unborn baby.

Please, please, don’t let me find Papa. Or Kelo. Or . . . anyone else. No more!

With each body, she felt as if a tear split her insides. Her mother became harder to pull. She was bent nearly in half, shaking with sobs. But the spirits were too close—they’ll find us. Any second, it would be Mayara or Mother on the ground, her throat torn, her body ripped apart, her eyes sightless.

No.

And then Mayara saw a black blur ahead: the cave!

She pushed Mother ahead of her into the cave, and she heard a familiar voice cry her name: “Mayara!” Kelo rushed out and grabbed her arm.

As sudden as a scream, she felt a spirit attack—its shriek echoed inside her, scraping her throat as if it were her own cry. It swiped at Kelo with its razor claws. Beside her, he crumpled. “Kelo!” Dragging him into the cave, she turned back toward the plaza.

She saw only wind, rain, and spirits.

“Mayara, get back!” Papa yelled at her.

The spirits were coming for the cave. She could sense their . . . They weren’t thoughts, precisely. It was a whirlwind of need and want. They wanted blood, death, and pain.

They wanted in.

The opening of the cave was large enough only for one person.

I could block it.

I could stop them. Stop this.

She didn’t know if that was true. She’d never used her power against so many or faced spirits who were so lost to their bloodlust. It might make it worse if she used her power, by drawing even more spirits toward the villagers.

And in that moment, she had the sudden, terrible thought that she had caused this by using her power during her dive.

But no, the spirits she’d encountered were island spirits, bonded to the queen of Belene. These were wild spirits from the untamed waters far beyond the islands. Spirit storms like this one were freak accidents unconnected to anything anyone did. Yet, if no one did something . . .

She called back to Papa. “Is he alive? Kelo, does he live?”

Papa yelled, “Yes! But you need to get inside! Come where it’s safe!”

But it wasn’t safe. The spirits knew where the cave was now—they’d seen Mother and Mayara run into it. They were calling to one another.

No, that wasn’t right. They’re calling to one other.

A sea dragon.

She could feel the shape of the water spirit in her mind—larger than any of the houses in her village, large enough to crush a fishing boat, with a serpent’s body and a bat’s wings. And then it wasn’t just in her mind—it burst through the rain, appearing midair in front of the cave.

Its scales were black as the night sky but flashed like the sea in sunlight. Its eyes were fire red and seemed to flicker. Its wings drove the wind toward Mayara, and she threw her arm in front of her face as water, carried by the wind, slammed into her, within the cave.

She felt the spirit’s rage.

It will kill us all.

She felt hands pulling on her arms. Papa and Kelo and others were shouting, “Mayara! Get back!” But she shook the hands off and stepped forward, out of the cave. Squinting in the driving rain, Mayara stared up at the dragon.

She thought of the dive within the ancient leviathan’s skull. And of her sister, Elorna, who had braved even more frightening dives. And of Kelo, who waited for Mayara, always trusting she’d return to him.

Trust me one more time, my love. I can do this. I will do this.

Mayara had heard the stories: the heirs kept the islands safe. They sent the wild spirits back into the sea. But Mayara didn’t have the training or the strength of the heirs. She had only herself, and she didn’t think she could command more than one spirit at a time.

So she chose the dragon, and she crafted a single order:

Protect us!

The sea dragon resisted. She felt it screech within her head, and it was almost enough to shatter her mind. Gritting her teeth against the onslaught, she held the command steady, focusing all her intent and will: Protect us! Now!