“Why are you looking at me like that?”
His answer is almost inaudible. “How, exactly, am I looking at you?”
Like you’re still inside my head, perusing all my private thoughts.
I grit my teeth and jerk my gaze from his, back to the bow. The ship is lilting slightly forward as we take on water below. I have no doubt the black ichor has burned a path straight throughthe hull. I wonder how much time we have before we sink. Long enough to retrieve the bodies cocooned in the crew quarters? Maybe if we get some sailors from the docks to help…
Movement in my peripherals draws my attention to the port rail. All thoughts of body recovery falter as the breath catches in my throat. Something is crawling through a jagged hole in the deck. It is small—no larger than my fist, with a light brown exoskeleton, spindly legs, and finger-length fangs—but it is not alone. Everywhere my eyes move, I see more legs creeping up from the flooding hold.
“Soren…”
“I see them.” He sounds grim as he steps up beside me. Our shoulders press together as we take in the sight of dozens—no, there must behundreds—of arachnidae scurrying onto the upper deck. “Gods damn it,” he mutters. “The fucking thing reproduced.”
I’m already reaching for his hand, bracing myself for another fight, when a battle cry splits the sky. My head snaps up in time to see them drop out of the thick clouds above the sea gate. Five winged horses, flying in tight formation. My heart stumbles inside my chest as the impossible becomes possible.
Paexyri steeds.
The stuff of legend. Livings myths, every one of them. For though I had never before laid eyes on such magnificent beasts, though I had not even been sure they truly existed outside the pages of children’s books, I know without question that these can only be the fabled faery mounts that ferried riders across Anwyvn before the Cull.
Their feathered wingspans stretch wide, gliding effortlessly through the air as they swoop toward the harbor. The five flying stallions in the V-shaped order are each a different color. At the rear, a dapple gray flanks a gingery roan. At the middle, achestnut bay speeds opposite a piebald black. And at the very front, a mount of pure white dominates the pack. Each carries a rider on its back clad in navy blue flight leathers.
Soren’s colors.
Not enemies, then.
The riders duck low over air-whipped manes as they descend rapidly toward us, but sit up in their saddles once they are within firing range. With the upper half of their faces fully obscured by goggles, their identities are a mystery; their intentions are not. A volley of immolating arrows rain down on the foredeck as they shoot sleek silver bows with effortless coordination, instantly igniting the swarming spiders.
I backpedal away from the quick-spreading flames. The webs that cloak the deck go up like a wine-soaked torch. In seconds, the whole ship will be engulfed.
Soren’s hand finds mine. “Time to go.”
We run for midship, fire at our backs roaring as it rips through wood and canvas. The hissing shrieks of the burning arachnidae grow to an earsplitting pitch as the creatures are consumed. When we reach the starboard rail, I see a crowd has gathered at the docks below. Sailors and soldiers, all staring wide-eyed at the inferno as well as the Paexyri steeds, who continue to circle the ship. Each pump of their impressive wings serves as a bellows, fanning the flames.
“Cut us loose!” Soren calls.
The sailors below instantly spring into action, untying the coiled bowlines from their bollards and tossing them into the water. The moment we are free, maegic thickens the air. I glance over at Soren in question, but he is occupied—his eyes are on the harbor, surveying everything in our immediate vicinity.
“You might want to hold the rail.”
“What?” I’m thrown off by his casual suggestion. “Why?”
His answer comes in the form of a violent lurch. I grab the rail by the tips of my fingers before I go down on my ass. The wave Soren has summoned lifts us straight up into the air, several feet above the surface. The listing ship groans like a dying man as he maneuvers us across the harbor, strained by the excess water in its holds as well as the fire consuming its bow.
It is a jerking, uneven sort of slog. I cling to the wooden railing as the vessel seesaws from side to side. Soren guides us to the center of the harbor, well away from the other ships and the docks where so many onlookers are gathered. Intent on his task, he does not seem at all bothered by the spreading blaze. The fire has consumed the entire bow and central mast. Flames jump from ratline to ratline, turning canvas sails to cinders, reducing thick rope rigging to ash. The crow’s nest is no more than a memory. And as the Paexyri continue to circle, their wingbeats only heighten the fire’s fury.
“Soren—”
“A little busy here, skylark.”
Fair enough. He is, after all, moving a full merchant vessel. I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. Ignoring the nagging exhaustion that tells me I am nearing the bottom of my maegical reservoir, I summon a dense air shield to hold back the encroaching heat, along with any of the arachnidae offspring who manage to flee its deadly embrace. It is the sort of blunt, brute-force power I am accustomed to—none of Soren’s finesse required—but it gets the job done. The fire ceases its forward march. It licks and lashes at the impenetrable wall like a living thing, testing my strength, demanding more of it.
I give all I have left. But I am already weak—I have pushed my maegic further today than ever before—and only grow more so with each passing moment. The toll on my mind, on my body, is greater than I can pay with my flagging reserves. Myteeth sink into my bottom lip as I struggle to fend off the raging flames.
Only when the ship is at the very center of the harbor does Soren lower his arms. We bob back to sea level as he releases his hold, sending swells rippling in all directions.
“It’s deepest here,” he says with a nod, talking more to himself than me. Even in profile, I can see a faint crease of concern on his brow. “We’ll let it sink after it burns.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I mumble. Waves of black are pushing in at the edges of my vision. I am seconds from losing consciousness. “But, uh—”