Page 77 of Minor Works of Meda

Kalcedon leaned forward towards me. I swallowed my breath, as motionless as you could be while floating weightless in the sea. He pressed his lips to my forehead.

Heat. Despite his weak state fire leaked through me, singing deep into my veins, tissue, and bones. He wasn’t touching me anywhere else, but I knew, intimately, confidently, how close we were standing; the very shape of him. I was more aware of him than I was of the sea holding my body up.

I reached a hand towards him, slowly, and collided with the hard plane of his abdomen, slick skin and a burn in my hand; the catch of Kalcedon’s breath, the way his whole being shifted towards me.

“Did you hear me?” Oraik asked.

Kalcedon backed away, dunked his head back beneath the water, and swam off, emerging a dozen feet behind where he’d been. He was facing the other way. I retreated to my own side of the boat. My heart slammed against my chest.

“Hello? Meda?”

Kalcedon didn’t answer, and neither did I. I couldn’t say a word. My body felt like it was on fire. Holding my breath, I dove down to the bottom of the cove and grabbed a handful of sand to scrub. I scoured my skin until it burned, but it didn’t match the memory of Kalcedon’s touch.

Chapter 34

The next morning was unpleasant. I was hungry, and stiff from sleeping on the deck without any comforts. Nestled between Oraik’s good shoulder and Kalcedon, I’d had a better situation than either of them: two warm sides against the night’s chill. It still wasn’t the same as a bed.

“What now?” Kalcedon asked as I quietly hauled the anchor up out of the water.

“We’ll make for Rovileis. But we’d better stock up first,” I answered. It might be a few days sailing, assuming I even pointed the little boat in the right direction.

“There must be somewhere around here that sells food,” Oraik said hopefully, despite the fact that our cove was no less wild by dawn than it had been by dark. “And a change of clothes.” He knelt at the edge of the deck, shirtless and bloody, swirling his tunic around in the sea. It was a hopeless fight, in my opinion; the garment was ruined.

“We’ll circle the island,” I agreed.

“Where are we? Degnac?” Oraik asked. He lifted his shirt and rolled it up, squeezing the salt water out.

“I think so.”

“Then why not head to Koraica? Temor is closer than Rovileis.”

“Because you’re being hunted,” Kalcedon practically growled. He was sitting as far across the boat as he could be from Oraik, leaning back against the wolf’s hull with his arms crossed. His eyes were half-closed, a permanent sneer on his lips.

“But the faerie sunk that ship,” Oraik said, responding to me without looking at Kalcedon. It took me a moment to realize he meant Kalcedon; wouldn’t even call him by his name. “Surely we can do as we like.”

“They weren’t working alone,” Kalcedon informed him.

“How does he know that?” Oraik said, talking, again, straight at me.

“Because their accomplice killed someone in Buis two days ago. No ship sails that fast, idiot. And at least one of them escaped yesterday.”

“Oh,” Oraik said. He glanced Kalcedon’s way, then quickly turned back to me again.

“It still doesn’t make sense. Why would Colynes want the Ward brought down?” I muttered angrily to myself. It was so foolish. They were as human as the rest of the Protectorate.

“Power,” Oraik said quietly. “Everyone turned against them, when they took Doregall. Maybe they were offered a deal.”

“But it’s stupid.”

“Stupid people are stupid,” Kalcedon agreed.

“Still. Couldn’t we hide somewhere? I don’t want to go back to the Temple,” Oraik muttered. He wrinkled his nose and dragged his wet, bloodstained shirt over his head. The sun was beginning to make things hot again. With the sea-wind, he’d dry off as soon as we left the cove.

“I don’t want to play nursemaid to your pathetic arse,” Kalcedon muttered. The half-faerie stood, making Oraik flinch, but all Kalcedon did was turn and lean his arms against the railing, staring at the isle instead of at the two of us.

“Now that we know who’s working with the outland fae, we know the Temple isn’t,” I told Oraik. “Rovileis is the most protected place for you to be. We’ll find food, and then head that way.”

“And so I am a captive once more,” Oraik complained.

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