“Glad you recognize that. Finally.”
“Exceptions must stick together.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, his expression conveying support and affection, but his hand lingering a little too long. It seemed our whole complicated history was contained in that gesture.
His eyes went to the sailors on watch. “Well, it looks like everything is in hand. I’m going to my cabin to sleep like the dead.”
“Must be nice to have a cabin.”
“Would you prefer to sleep there?” he asked quickly.
I lifted a brow.
“Alone, if you’re so inclined.” Mischief danced in his eyes.
I snorted. “Thank you, but I think you’ve made enough sacrifices. Taking on this crew, for instance. You’ll need a quiet space to get away from all the arguing.”
“We’ll find you a cabin tomorrow. One of my officers can bunk with the crew. But for tonight—”
“I’ll sleep on the deck if that’s all that’s available.”
“There’s a hammock in steerage if you don’t mind bedding down among crates and barrels. You won’t be disturbed. I’m thinking you might like some time alone.”
Something sweet closed my throat. I was touched. “Very thoughtful, Kai. Thank you.”
He nodded and left, his gait adjusting to the roll of the waves without a flicker of difficulty. Like he was part of the ship.
I turned and rested my elbows on the railing, staring down to where the sea churned—nearly invisible in the dark. In a few minutes, I wouldn’t be able to see the water at all. But I’d know it was there because of the way it heaved us up and dropped us down, gentle now, but subject to the whims of the winds. In a matter of hours or even minutes, the swells could turn from calm to violent.
It was like the Minax. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. I sensed it more now that I had no one and nothing to distract me. Would it remain passive and allow me to direct it? Or would it take its cue from a vengeful wind god and dash me to pieces against the rocks of its hate? I had no choice but to try to weather it, to hold the wheel tight, to fight to stay on course.
It wasn’t only me who counted on my ability to remain in control. The entire world would suffer if I didn’t. When I thought of it that way, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
I gripped the railing and stared down at the deepening gloom.
I was darkness. There was nothing to be gained by denying it. My best chance lay in treating this new ability the way I’d always treated my fire—as part of me. Fear of my fire had ruled me when I’d had no control over it. Darkness, like fire, was a gift I could master.
A gust brushed my hair to the side and I turned toward it. It smelled of harvest, of wheat being bound into sheaths, of fallen leaves and crisp pine. The stray breeze had come from the west. I smiled. Cirrus was sending a message of support. I held my hand out, catching the scented air in my palm.
Just as suddenly, a vicious gust cut across the deck, snapping the sails. An east wind, threatening rain. Air swirled around me, pulling the breath from my lungs and wrapping my hair around my upper arms like binding ropes.
The wind twisted away. The sails fell slack.
I shoved my hair back and rubbed the chill from my arms. The air smelled of smoke and blood, of army camps and battlefields.
A wordless message from Eurus, as clear as if it were written in the stars: Prepare for war.