Page 16 of Blood on the Tide

Despite the irritation that arises in the wake of her words, once again I can’t help but admire the steel in her spine. It flickers before me, peeking out between the self-pity and the softness. I don’t understand the self-pity. Yes, she lost something incredibly valuable, but it’s a waste of time and energy to sit around crying. This person who stole from her is hardly going to bring it back just because she feels bad. With every day she spends weeping, her pelt moves farther and farther from her.

Personally, I’m a fan of wholesale slaughter when something’s taken from me.

Then why didn’t you kill Evelyn and Bowen?

Again, I ignore the voice inside me. Murdering Evelyn might be something my mother would have done, but my feelings for Evelyn are far too complicated to end in her death. The world would be colder without her in it, running around and causing chaos.

Besides, if she honestly tried to kill me, things might have played out differently, but she was only ever defending herself. I’m horribly, unforgivably sentimental when it comes to that woman. It’s the only explanation I have for leaving Bowen alive, too. It would have made her sad to see him dead.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never worried about things like this before. There may have been people I cared about on a superficial level, but not enough to change the way that I acted. Even before Evelyn stole from me, there was only the slightest softening in her direction. I’d barely allowed myself to think about what a future with her might hold, let alone do anything to act on it. But... I cared enough to give her a chance to run, to avoid the bloodshed that would result in my mother finding a human witch in my bed.

Maybe it’s Threshold itself causing this uncomfortable change in me. Maybe the very air and water and blood of its occupants are magical in a merciful kind of way. I examine that concept from every angle as we sail away from Viedna. I very carefully don’t allow myself to look at the shrinking island being swallowed by the endless blue sky and sea as morning takes a proper hold of the world. No matter that I’d like to blame my actions on environmental magic shifting a centuries-long habit, it’s an impossible concept to even entertain. There’s no way there’s any truth to that theory. If there was, then the Cwn Annwn would be out of jobs.

Maybe you’re different because you’re away from your mother’s influence.

Unease filters through me. I can’t afford to be soft. I may not be under my mother’s thumb currently, but I am going back home. Once there, I will have to become the heir she formed me into. If she senses so much as a hint of softness, she won’t hesitate to carve it out of me, bit by bloody bit.

To distract myself from the memories threatening to take hold, I focus on the selkie. She moves around the boat, adjusting the sail with an ease of someone who’s done this many times before. Considering she told me that selkies don’t use boats or ships, it’s enough to make me wonder how she learned it.

“You’re staring.” Maeve speaks without looking at me.

“You’re the most interesting thing I have to look at.” I’m sure as fuck not going to look at the sea. I’d prefer to pretend it doesn’t exist at all, that we’re floating along on air currents instead of ones made of water. I drag in a ragged breath. Maeve. Focus on Maeve. “You might as well get used to it.”

She tenses. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Since I’m pretty sure you don’t actually have a sense of humor, you must be serious. Look around you, Lizzie. Sun and sky and sea are all far more interesting to look at.”

She’s wrong. They’re not interesting—they’re terrifying. An endless horizon is an invitation for oblivion, and I enjoy life too much to allow the damned sea to take me. More than that, she is more interesting to look at, even if I wasn’t afraid of the water. The weight that pulls her shoulders down is nowhere in evidence. For the first time since meeting her, she seems fully alive.

She’s resplendent.

chapter 8

Maeve

I didn’t realize how much the crew of the Audacity shielded me until there’s no one around except Lizzie. No one to distract me from her viciously good looks. No one to dampen her intense energy. She’s so quiet. On a crowded ship, it was easy to convince myself that I wasn’t aware of her presence. It wasn’t true, but I had the comforting lie.

Within the first twelve hours on the tiny boat, I’m jumping every time she shifts. I try to quell the reaction, but it’s impossible. Her presence is just so intense, even when she’s just sitting there. And it just gets worse as the hours tick by. I try to distract myself with focusing on sailing, but things are going smoothly. The wind sends us skimming along the surface of the waves. The sun is bright and warm, a pleasant weight against my skin. The world sprawls out before the boat, rife with possibilities. If I was by myself, I might even be enjoying the experience.

Except that’s not the truth, is it? Not with the ache in my chest and the knowledge that I’m running out of time.

Whenever despair threatens to take hold, I call on the memory of Lizzie’s fingers digging into my chin. It should infuriate me that she touched me so harshly without permission, but the truth is that she grounded me when I needed it the most. The memory continues to do so, not fading in the least as the hours tick on.

By the second night, I’m going out of my skin wondering when she’ll need to feed. I’ve seen what that looks like, or at least the aftermath. Poet certainly seemed pleased with the results. How will it feel to have her teeth pierce my skin, her mouth draw the very blood from my body? The question drives me from sleep over and over again. I’ve never been particularly careless when it comes to choosing bed partners. There were a few in Viedna as I reached adulthood, exploration and experimentation that faded to friendship over time. I’ve indulged with sailors a handful of times, but the warnings of my grandmother and mother played too heavily in my mind to ever fully let go. We might not be actively hunted for our pelts in current times, but the community in Viedna has a long memory, and the fear that we’ll go back to the bad old days lingers. So I was careful... until Bronagh.

And look how that turned out.

“Maeve.”

I startle and the rudder slips from my grasp. It’s just as well. We have the wind guiding us in the direction we need to go, so I’m mostly hanging on to it to keep my hands busy. But without that to focus on, there’s only Lizzie. She sits on the bench across from me, her elbows propped on her knees, her posture perfectly relaxed. The intensity of her gaze gives lie to that relaxation, though. She never truly unwinds.

I’m slightly ashamed that I notice at all. “What?”

“You said three days. We’re on day three and I don’t see land in sight.”

I might have slightly underestimated the time it will take to get to Khollu. I was picked up only a day off the coast of Viedna last time, so I hadn’t had a chance to realize that when sailors say it takes three days to get from one island to the other, they are talking about in the massive ships with a full crew. Thankfully, the food I have stashed is enough to last upward of a week, but that doesn’t help Lizzie. “We might have another day or two.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’ll need to feed in the next day or two. I should have done it already, but I’ve been taking smaller bites to keep things cordial with the crew on the Audacity.”

It takes everything I have to maintain a neutral expression and keep my anticipation buried deep. Smaller bites, more frequent feedings. “So you’ll feed on me.”

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