Page 160 of Fate Breaker

Sailor, sailor, sailor, she noted, her desperation rising with every Tyri uniform and head of black hair. One of them looked ripped in half, missing everything from the waist down. His entrails floated with the rest of him, like a length of bleached rope.

She suspected a shark got the best of him.

Then her memories returned with a crash like the waves.

The Tyri ship. Nightfall. The sea serpent slithering up out of the deep. The breaking of a lantern. Fire across the deck, slick scales running over my hands. The swing of a greatsword, Elder-made. Dom silhouetted against a sky awash with lightning. And then the cold, drowning darkness of the ocean.

A wave splashed up against her and Sorasa stumbled back to shore, shivering. She had not waded more than waist deep, but her face felt wet, water she could not understand streaking her cheeks.

Her knees buckled and she fell, exhausted. She heaved a breath, then two.

And screamed.

Somehow, the pain in her head paled in comparison to the pain in her heart. It dismayed and destroyed her in equal measure. The wind blew, stirring salt-crusted hair across her face, sending a chill down to her soul. It was like the wilderness all over again, the bodies of her Amhara kin splayed around her.

No, she realized, her throat raw.This is worse. There is not even a body to mourn.

She contemplated the emptiness for a while, the beach and the waves, and the bodies gently pressing into shore. If she squinted, they could only be debris from the ship, bits of wood instead of bloated flesh and bone.

The sun glimmered on the water. Sorasa hated it.

Nothing but clouds since Orisi, and now you choose to shine.

It was not like her to lose her senses. The ability to drift was beaten from her long ago. But Sorasa drifted now, pacing the beach.

She did not hear the shift of sand, or the heavy scuff of boots over the loose stones. There was only the wind.

Until a strand of gold blew across her vision, joined by a warm, unyielding palm against her shoulder. Her body jolted as she turned, nose to nose with Domacridhan of Iona. His green eyes glittered, his mouth open as he shouted something again, his voice swallowed up by the droning in her own head.

“Sorasa.”

It came to her slowly, as if through deep water. Her own name, over and over again. She could only stare back into the verdant green, lost in the fields of his eyes. In her chest, her heart stumbled. She expected her body to follow.

Instead, her fist closed and her knuckles met cheekbone.

Dom was good enough to turn his head, letting the blow glance off. Begrudgingly, Sorasa knew he had spared her a broken hand on top of everything else.

“How dare you,” she forced out, trembling.

Whatever concern he wore burned away in an instant.

“How dare I what? Save yourlife?” he snarled, letting her go.

Sorasa swayed without his support. She clenched her own jaw, fighting to maintain her balance lest she fall to pieces entirely.

“Is that another Amhara lesson?” he raged on, throwing up both arms. “When given the choice between death or indignity, choosedeath?!”

Hissing, Sorasa looked back to the spot where she woke up. Heat crept up her face as she realized her body left a trail through the sand when he dragged her up from the tide line. A blind man would have noticed it. But not Sorasa in her fury and grief.

“Oh” was all she could manage. Her mouth flapped open, her mind spinning. Only the truth came, and that was far too embarrassing. “I did not see. I—”

Her head throbbed again and she pressed a hand to her temple, wincing away from his stern glare.

“I will feel better if you sit,” Dom said stiffly.

Despite the pain, Sorasa loosed a low growl. She wanted to stand just to spite him, but thought better of it. With a huff, she sank, cross-legged on the cool sand.

Dom was quick to follow, almost blurring. It made her head spin again.

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