The Deepest Blue(93)

“She’s a murderer who doesn’t deserve to be queen,” Roe said.

Mayara opened her mouth. Closed it. “Yes.” She knew she should say more, try to talk Roe out of this unhealthy line of thought. She didn’t know if talk of mercy or moral high ground would have any impact. “But your mother wouldn’t want you imprisoned for the rest of your life. She’d want you free, alive, living your life. After my sister died . . .” She stopped. It was impossible to talk about Elorna now that she knew the truth.

Beside her, Roe gasped and stepped back.

Mayara felt it a second later—like a rip inside her. She heard the air spirit scream both in her mind and in her ears, the kind of sound that made her bones feel as if they would shatter.

“She’s dead,” Roe gasped. “I’ve lost both my mother and my father.”

If it had been Mayara, she knew how she might have felt: gutted, empty, broken. It was how she’d felt when she’d heard the news about Elorna’s death. She remembered the world seemed to fade around her, the way it did when she dived deep, and she wouldn’t have cared if a volcano had erupted and claimed the island in its embrace. She expected Roe to do the same, especially because of the way she’d shattered on the beach after her mother was stabbed.

But instead Roe howled.

She fixed every bit of her rage at the air spirit that was hurtling toward them, with death and blood in its heart—

And Mayara heard the command echo through the spirit.

Destroy yourself!

The force of the command was so powerful that Mayara reeled backward, stumbling against the side of the ship. In the air, the spirit tore at its own flesh, ripping holes in the translucent thinness as if it were tearing paper.

It didn’t bleed. Instead it rained. Silver drops fell on the ship’s deck.

And then all was silent.

The sea barely lapped. The wind barely blew. The ship’s sails fluttered, slapping against the mast. It happened so quickly that Mayara had barely had time to be afraid, much less to react. “Roe . . .” She stopped. She didn’t know what to say.

Roe was panting, her hands on her knees, her head hanging down.

“That was amazing!” Garnah crowed. She then turned to Lord Maarte. “Get us to Yena. As quickly as you can. There’s wind still, stirred by the wild spirits. Use it.”

AS THEY SAILED, MAYARA WORKED TO COAX THE SAILS INTO HOLDING as much of the wind as they could catch. Lord Maarte barked orders, and she scurried over the deck, adjusting lines, tightening pulleys, and ducking under the boom. She would have resented the orders, except he was running back and forth between the lines and the wheel just as much as she was.

He’d shed his embroidered coat, leaving it in an ignoble heap on the deck, where it soaked in spray from the sea. His sleeves were rolled up beyond his elbows, and sweat mixed with saltwater. Maybe it was self-preservation, but he was at least trying to keep them moving forward.

In the absence of the queen, the heirs and Silent Ones had performed their duty: banding their thoughts together to “freeze” the spirits of Belene. The spirits would exist in a kind of suspended state until the next queen seized control over them. Which should happen any moment now, Mayara thought. Until then, the ship was sailing on whatever stray breeze came off the wild, untamed ocean.

At least they’d survived the moments of queenless wildness. Mayara thought again of Kelo and hoped he and Asana’s parents had made it to shelter in time. Now all that was needed was for a new queen to take control before the wild spirits noticed that Belene was unprotected—and before the leviathans woke.

She hoped it wouldn’t be Lanei.

A trained heir was supposed to be in the grove, ready for this moment. She should be the one to take charge, and if she did, she’d know how to quiet the leviathans and this whole journey would be unnecessary. And I can return to Kelo and resume my life.

Or at least she hoped she would.

She wondered suddenly how a new queen would feel about how she and Roe had abandoned the test. It was considered treason. Elorna’s warning whispered in her ear.

What if they arrived in Yena and were arrested for treason?

“Roe . . . what if Lanei is not queen?”

“Then no one will call it regicide,” Roe said.

Across the deck, Garnah burst out laughing. “I like her.”

Mayara didn’t believe Roe would truly kill anyone. It was one thing to feel that rage when it was merely a faraway concept, but faced with looking straight into another’s eyes . . . She won’t do it. She’s not like that. But that wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. “We quit the test. How do you think a new queen will react to that?” Mayara lowered her voice, but it didn’t matter—with the low wind, her words traveled across the ship.

“You’ll be jailed,” Lord Maarte said cheerfully. He was at the helm, sailing with all the confidence of a man who believes he’s destined to win. “Unless someone with influence intervenes for you.”

“And are you volunteering for that?” Roe asked. “You, who separated me from my mother? You, who kept us imprisoned, even though we were innocent, for years?”

“It’s a heavy responsibility the Families bear, to sacrifice the happiness of a few for the safety and well-being of all Belene,” Lord Maarte said.

Mayara thought of her village and the spirit storm that had claimed so many while the heirs guarded the Neran Family stronghold, miles away from danger. “You never had to sacrifice your own happiness, though. You only ever cared about yourself and your own family.”