Author Rebecca Bretherton

Present Day

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The world had disappeared.

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Standing at the bow as the ship sailed through mist-shrouded waters, Solveig could barely make out the silhouette of Serafina Etana beside the helm. Around them, the water’s surface was akin to crystal, the air perfectly still, stagnant. How they weren’t travelling in circles, Solveig didn’t know, for the fog had concealed the stars and the moon for two nights now. To her, navigation appeared impossible, but then, so did the woman who steered the ship. Declared dead for over ten years, yet standing before her now, healthy, and whole.

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Lies.

Countless lies.

 

From Adira, her family…even Emmerich. And perhaps worst of all? Her beloved Aldrik, not quite so perfect and true after all. Solveig had begun to wonder if anything in her life had ever been real. Or if it was all merely a show she’d been forced to perform in without realising she was being laughed at by all involved? What would they think of her now? How would her story be framed? The enemy, no doubt. Blamed for releasing Prince Emmerich from the dungeons, and for attempting to kill her brother. None of it true—except perhaps the latter, but she’d been aiming to maim, not kill. No, the time for that would come one day. When she sought vengeance for the years of pain and manipulation at his hand, at her mother's, and even her father’s indifference. How easily she’d allowed herself to be fooled by them all.

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Then there were Adira’s lies about her mother, Aldrik’s secrets about Emmerich, and in turn Emmerich’s lies about how he knew her, knew them all. But most importantly, her family and the Oracle. Those hurt worst of all, akin to shards of glass in her heart and burning flames in her mind. She’d put her faith in them and had been left desolate. Nothing more than her family’s weapon, a bloodstained distraction, and a meal at best to the Oracle. But at worst? Shivers racked her body, a puppet. A vessel for them to control in ways even her mother could only dream of. One thing was certain: the Oracle had given her one last chance. ‘Discover the truth of how the prince came here before, what waits for us in Elithiend,’ they’d said, and she’d failed. Whether by choice or not, the message was clear: if she wasn’t useful to them, she was better dead. In her heart, Solveig knew which option she preferred. And yet she couldn’t afford to think on it for another second; it would have to wait for later. When she was safer, not trapped aboard a minuscule vessel sailing to a supposed nonexistent land, having not seen a sign of civilisation in days.

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“You should allow someone to tend to that arm,” Serafina called as she relinquished the helm to a soldier who’d appeared from below deck a moment ago.

“I’m fine,” Solveig bit out as she tightened the knot on the makeshift sling that held her arm steady.

“Ignoring your pain won’t make you stronger. I have healers who are more than capable of mending it.”

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Solveig stiffened at her words because she had tried to mend it on her own. Tried and failed. Had thought perhaps the melting of her cuffs would free the reins on her Hydromancy, as it had for her newfound Aire Wending abilities. But it was useless; she was still broken. Unfixable. A mockery of the Hydromancer name. Keeping her gaze on the drenched wooden boards beneath her feet, she heard rather than saw Serafina as she came to stand beside her.

“You have nothing to fear from my kind, child,” she said, reaching out a hand that Solveig instinctively flinched away from as an ache pierced her heart. She longed for the caring, gentle touch of her enemy, even though she knew it made her weak.

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“I don’t fear you,” she hissed in an effort to hide her pain.

“Then what is it?”

Solveig turned to her at last. Taking in those silvery braids, the churning grey eyes, and scarred wrists, where her cuffs had long since been removed. Something Solveig had failed to spot that fateful day at Luxenal Mine. Another score against her, more proof of her own failures.

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“I don’t trust you,” she said simply. “Any of you.”

“We could have left you in Torrelin to be shamed and jailed for your entire kingdom to see, but we didn’t.”

“Don’t treat me as a fool; you saved me because you need something from me.”

“No one here believes that,” Serafina stated, taking a step closer to the princess. “Led astray and manipulated? Yes. Done foolish things because of that? Yes. But you are no fool, Solveig Maleen.”

“Tell me what you want from me.”

“That is not my place.”

“Whose is it?”

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Serafina swallowed, her head dipping slightly as she glanced away from Solveig and out into the blinding mist. “It is for our leaders to decide when the time is right.” She sighed, her back straightening as she met the Princess’s gaze once more. “We’re approaching Vanahold. As an outsider, you cannot be allowed to see the way in.”

Solveig’s eyes narrowed as she stepped backward until she was flush with the railing. “I won’t be your prisoner.”

“A prisoner? Never. But as you do not trust us, our sentiments are the same toward you. We must protect our own first. Surely you understand,” Serafina attempted to reason with her.

“I’m tired of secrets and the lies they give birth to in order to keep them.”

“There is a difference between secrets and lies, Your Highness,” Serafina said gently. “You have been lied to. It has wounded you, but this secret protects my kin from the same.”

Solveig hesitated, unsure of herself now as she dropped Serafina’s gaze.

“We do not fear the Oracle knowing we remain,” Serafina continued. “Rather them learning how to find us. This secret is the difference between my people’s survival and their end.”

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***

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Solveig knew what it meant—the cost of survival. Forsaking others to protect yourself. After all, she had murdered countless innocents to save her own neck. A level of cruelty she would now have to spend her life making amends for.

“How do you intend to hide it from me?” she asked at last.

“By sequestering you below deck, guarded until it is safe.”

Solveig stared at her now, eyes blinking, expressionless.

“That’s all?”

“Of course. How did you think we would go about it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, thinking of how she’d had her consciousness stolen in the past. How Emmerich had offered her similar and instead had bound and blinded her when she had refused. Her own stubbornness had caused her more suffering, and she had no desire to experience that ever again. “Fine,” she agreed. “Do it.”

***

“You believe the elders will allow you to bring her onto our shores?” Silas asked as he came to stand beside Serafina.

“They will see reason.”

“At what cost to you, my lady?”

“I broke no rules.”

“Interference is interference, whether you were supposed to be there or not.”

“There was no other option.” She sighed, turning the wheel, guiding them through the mist, following the path her heart sang. A golden thread leading her to the diamond shores of Vanahold. To safety.

“There is a council tonight,” Silas murmured. “They could expel her before you’ve had a chance to proclaim her.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“You answer to Galafrin the same as I, and her orders are final.”

“I have held Galafrin's counsel for decades; she will not make a rash decision without listening first.”

They both fell silent, watching as the mists cleared, revealing the white-capped, rushing entrance to Vanalagra, a treacherous run that led them off the edge of the known world.

“Prepare the ship,” Serafina ordered, and Silas only nodded before turning to head below deck. Serafina’s chanting, in the language of the Seers, chased after him.

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***

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Deep within the ship’s stores, Silas strapped down barrels and crates as he moved toward the stern. He bent to pull a concealed door in the floorboards open, revealing a small lockbox. From a pouch, hidden within his jacket, he retrieved a vial containing a viscous red liquid. Serafina’s blood. The glass squeaked as he removed the cork, pouring the liquid over the box’s seams. Smoke billowed along the edges as it sizzled like coals on a fire before popping open to reveal a glistening gem that had been expertly carved into a star. He pocketed the jewel. Replaced the box and the door and headed back up to the deck where, at the bow of the ship, he slotted the star into the wood. All the while, Serafina continued her incantation. Soon the star emitted a faint glow. Sparkling purple threads traversed the wood grain of the ship as they approached the edge of Vanalagra.

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“Hold tight and stay true,” Serafina intoned in the common tongue.

“Through night to dawn’s first hue,” Silas answered.

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And as the world fell away, a scream echoed from below deck.