Page 33 of Blood on the Tide

Later, perhaps, I’ll be grateful for how carefully she’s handled me in this situation. Right now I can only imagine what happens next. Before I can think of all the ways this could possibly go wrong, I wrap my skin around myself.

And I am whole once more.

chapter 16

Lizzie

I’ve seen shifters change their shape plenty of times. It tends to be gruesome business, bones breaking and skin splitting as their bodies go from one version of themselves to the other. It’s not like that at all with Maeve. She drapes the pelt—a fur with a gray dappled pattern—around her body, and it’s as if my eyes go blurry for a moment. One second, the woman whom I’m starting to have incredibly complicated feelings for is standing in front of me. The next, a massive leopard seal crouches in front of me.

I’m hardly a zoologist, but even I’m aware of the various types of seals and where they come from. But when I think of seals, I think of the cute little brown-furred ones with doe eyes. Prey. The kind of animal that falls victim to superior predators like orcas. Now that is an animal I can get behind; they even play with their prey.

Maeve isn’t that kind of seal at all.

She’s massive, for one. She has to be upward of a thousand pounds and easily fifteen feet from nose to tail. She blinks at me, and though the rest of her is unrecognizable, those inky eyes remain the same. We stare at each other in charged silence as I try to understand what the fuck my heart is doing right now.

And then she throws herself over the railing in a shockingly agile movement. There’s a splash down below, and only silence follows. I step to the railing and look down to see her pale form circling the ship and then diving deep. The happiness in her movements almost makes me smile.

Then she dives deeper, and I can’t see her at all any longer. I grip the railing and search the dark water, but it’s just that... dark water. No seal. No Maeve. She said there was nothing to fear in these waters, that the Cwn Annwn drive out—or, more accurately, murder—anything that takes up residence. She’s fine. She’s not being torn apart just out of sight.

But she... doesn’t surface.

Seconds tick into minutes and then longer. I can hear the crew shuffling about behind me, but I can’t seem to move. There’s no sign of her. No matter how many times I search the gently rolling waves, that truth doesn’t change.

Even when the sun crests the horizon, bathing the world in light and turning the water into something only slightly less opaque. Still no Maeve.

She’s... gone.

I stare at the water, wondering how I got this all so wrong. I’m ruthless to a fault. It’s the only way I know how to be. How did I not use our bargain to my advantage? I should have insisted we go after my family heirlooms first, and then I should have been the one to leave her behind with her needs unsatisfied. I must be a fool, because I honestly didn’t expect her to abandon me the moment she reclaimed her stolen skin.

I also didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

I finally drag myself away from the railing and turn to find several of the crew members watching me covertly. It’s tempting to snap at them to mind their own damn business, but showing even that much reaction is broadcasting my weakness in an invitation to be exploited. So I stare them down until they find somewhere else to be.

All except Alix, the bird person. To hear Evelyn tell of it, there was one of their people aboard the Crimson Hag as a medic, a delightfully delicate person whom Evelyn was naturally taken by. Alix is hardly that. Their beak is curved like that of a predator. They may move on two feet, but somehow they still give the impression of diving down to clutch up helpless prey. It would be impressive if I wasn’t feeling like I might vomit.

They stand next to me, watching me out of the corner of their large pale eyes. “This likely won’t go well for you.”

“Why don’t you try again?” I say mildly. “The last person who threatened me ended up with their head bouncing across the deck.”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m merely stating a fact. One of my people tells me you’re hunting the Crimson Hag. It might not be captained by Bowen any longer, but that doesn’t make it any less formidable an opponent. It’s suicide.”

I find myself looking back at the water and curse silently. Surely I’m not this much of a fool to be staring at the waves and waiting for Maeve to reappear? What am I? Some forlorn housewife whose spouse has gone out to sea, never to be seen again? Ridiculous.

It takes more effort than it should to turn to Alix and give them the majority of my attention. “I don’t have a death wish. Battling them at sea would get us all killed. I simply need to find them so I can retrieve something that belongs to me. As soon as we locate the ship, your task with me is done.” It would be more convenient to keep them on until I find a portal home, but I have no interest in being stabbed in my sleep. The threat of that is already too prominent. If Alix believes they’ll gain what they want—the captainship—the moment I accomplish my task, they’re less likely to cause problems.

“It’s a risk.”

“Life is a risk.” Despite my best efforts, I can’t help looking out into the water again. It’s fully morning now, which means it’s been hours since Maeve disappeared beneath the surface. “It’s your choice whether you bring the crew in line or I murder them all and find a new crew that’s more willing to work with me.”

They huff out a strange cawing laugh. “Heard and understood... Captain. The Crimson Hag doesn’t sail south all that often, so our best bet is to head north to Drash. There should be better information there.”

I would almost rather sail directly to the damn capital and wait them out there, but that’s a fool’s game. In the way of established dictators everywhere, the Council that rules Threshold is complacent in the extreme. They rule with an iron fist, but they’ve done it for so long without being challenged that they don’t think they can be challenged.

That will work in the rebellion’s favor—it already has. Not that such things matter to me. I won’t be around to see the rebellion prevail or fail, whichever the future holds. As soon as I reclaim my family jewels, I will return home and...

Go back to how things have been for the last century. Rising to meet my mother’s every demand. Scheming and plotting and killing to further my family’s power. There was a time when such things excited me, but when I think about it now, there’s only a heaviness in my chest.

What is wrong with me? I don’t doubt. Such emotion is for lesser beings. I’ve always had a direction in life, I’ve always had a goal to strive toward. I fully intend to be matriarch of my family at some point. The problem is that without Wolf and me being good little breeders with the proper partners and producing pureblood heirs, what family is there? Vampires live long enough that it might as well be forever. It will be centuries before there’s even a chance my mother might perish. Or before I become fed up enough with her control and stage a coup.

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