Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(114)

S?ren’s hand is on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on Blaise. I don’t have to ask him if he would actually follow Blaise’s direction to kill him if he loses control—I know he will without hesitation as surely as I know that if he does, I will stop him however I can.

Even if it puts everyone else in danger? a voice in my mind whispers, but I push it aside. It won’t come to that. It can’t come to that.

Everyone on the ship who isn’t on duty crowds behind S?ren and me to watch the three of them, and it seems that we are holding one collective breath, waiting for the moment we can finally exhale.

Heron begins first, though the only sign of it is his shoulders tensing with effort. The effect, though, begins immediately, spreading through the ship and all of us. Like it does whenever he’s used his gift on me, my skin begins to tingle as if my whole body has fallen asleep. A quick glance behind me confirms that the others are feeling it, too—some look down at their bodies in surprise and bewilderment only to see them begin to fade before their eyes.

But the sensation is not as strong as it was when Heron made only me invisible. He isn’t strong enough alone to make the entire ship disappear. However, between his gift and the natural cover night provides, we should be impossible to see.

Artemisia is next, and she has a flair for drama that Heron lacks. The crowd gathered behind me gasps as she lifts her arms and the tides pick up straight away. The fine mist of magic flies from her fingers as she directs our ship toward the Kalovaxian ships on the horizon, faster than I would have thought possible. In the moonlight, her every movement seems liquid, every jerk of her arms and flick of her wrist executed like the ocean itself gave birth to her.

It’s a bit like watching her sword fight.

The crowd gathered behind her gives whispers of awe—our ship flies across the sea, propelled by a perfect tide. The plan is working—as long as Artemisia can get us close enough before Heron becomes too weak to hold our invisibility. That is the question, the theory we couldn’t test out before putting it into action. That is what this all comes down to. We need to get close enough that Blaise can deploy his own gift.

Some small, stupid part of me hopes that we fail on that account—that Heron will fail to hold our invisibility and the Kalovaxians will see us and that we will fall into a less magical sort of battle, but at least Blaise wouldn’t use his gift. He wouldn’t risk his life like that.

The prayer goes unanswered. Artemisia’s tides propel us toward the Kalovaxian ships swiftly, Heron’s gift holding until the moment Blaise steps forward, his body shaking. He takes the gem-studded bracelet from his pocket and clutches it tightly in his fist.

For all his bravado earlier, he is actually afraid, I realize. Without meaning to, I take a step toward him, but S?ren grabs hold of my arm with his free hand.

“It’s a brave thing he’s doing,” S?ren says to me, his voice low and his eyes still locked on Blaise. “Don’t rob him of that now.”

A protest lodges in my throat. S?ren is right—even though I would rather have Blaise cowardly and alive instead of brave and dead, that is not my choice to make. And so I do the only thing I can do: I watch.

Heron stumbles backward, drained of energy, and Artemisia drops her arms to catch him, keeping him upright. Both of their magic fades, but it isn’t needed anymore. The Kalovaxian ships are close enough now that I can make out the shapes of the sailors running across the decks of their ships, close enough that I can hear their panicked shouts. It’s too late, though they don’t realize that. They will soon enough.

Blaise braces himself against the ship’s railing, his body straining like he’s being torn apart. Our ship is so quiet I can hear each breath from the crowd behind me, each wave crashing against our hull, each Kalovaxian curse and order being shouted in the distance.

He lifts one hand, extending it forward toward the center ship, directly ahead of us. Beneath the thin material of his shirt, the muscles of his back strain like something is trying to force its way out of his skin. A crack splits the air like thunder, followed by another and another, each one louder than the last. Seconds later, I see it—the Kalovaxian ship’s hull splintering apart, planks of wood breaking off and splashing into the water. The crew begins to call out as the fragmented ship sinks, and a bell rings out. An alarm, I realize, to alert the other ships of trouble.

The ship on the left hears it first and they try to come to the first ship’s rescue, but Blaise is ready for that. He lifts his other hand toward them. The power that racks its way through him is so strong that he has to lean the full weight of his body forward against the bow’s railing to stay standing. Even above the chorus of destruction, I can hear him gasping and grunting with pain.

“It’s too much,” I tell S?ren. “He can’t do any more.”

But even as I say it, the second ship begins to break apart, just like the first, plunging wreckage into the ink-black sea.

Two ships wrecked without a single life lost on our side—that’s enough. But it won’t be for Blaise. I know this even before he turns his attention to the third ship. Unlike their nobler brothers, the third ship isn’t making an attempt to rescue the other two. Instead, they are fleeing.

“We can let them go,” I say to S?ren, but he shakes his head, keeping his eyes on Blaise.

“They may get help and come back,” he says. “We can’t afford to take that risk.”