Page 54 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

Ajax would be a better fit than her. He was seasoned and determined and one of the finest strategists the Spartanis had probably ever seen. The Eagle, they called him. A majestic predator on the battlefield. She could feel the senators bristle behind her, along with Ajax’s widened eyes and shaky hand. King Athanas never liked him, and made that clear on more than one occasion. Yet, now the king nominated him for this position. Why?

“Ajax would make a fine Prytan of the Spartanis.” She almost passed out when Iason began to speak. “But you may remember, Khalid, that many had the same concerns about Machius when he first took the position.” Ember could see the loss flood into Iason’s eyes while speaking of her uncle. It had been years since his death, but the pain still lingered. “She is young, yes, and has a lot to learn. But her will and determination outweighs each of those shortcomings. When faced with an adversary well beyond her years, she did not yield. That is a quality any one of us would be lucky to have in a leader. Of the Spartanis or of this isle.”

She attempted to keep tears from forming in her eyes, but one slid down her cheek. It was rare that Ember felt so worthy, so loved, so supported for anything other than her looks. But these men, these strong and powerful men of the Spartanis stood there in full support of her.

“So that is your vote then?” King Athanas sneered. She could tell he thought the senators would mull over his nomination a bit more.

“It is. As is the vote of all the senators.” The other senators nodded behind him.

The Viper’s eyes begin to darken, the ebony center wiping away the white surrounding it. “And what of your vote, my boy?”

Kohl’s fingers began to dig into the arms of the throne, his jaw clenched tight. His father’s stare pierced through him. Ember could see it took all of Kohl’s will to go against his father. “I vote to induct Princess Ember Drakos as Prytan of the Spartanis.”

Ember reached for Ajax’s hand, but he pulled away. She scrunched her brows together. Was he not happy for her? This is what they talked about. What he had told her just this morning he wanted. But the commander just stood there, now a step out of her reach.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Katrin

Salt water poured into her throat over and over again. She couldn’t get her bearings, what was up and what was down. The storm came fast in the night, rocking the ship side to side as waves crashed against it. It beckoned to her, a caressing call in the moonlight. To wake from her dreams. To walk toward the door. To jump from the ship.

They forgot to lock her door that night. The men aboard the ship had yet to be so careless. But Katrin had little left to her, skin barely stretching over bone. What energy remained she used to concentrate on dulling the pain of starvation. With each day that passed it became harder and harder to do. She could feel the powers of the Grechi slipping from her.

The hallucinations had gotten worse. Her hope had faded, dreams blurring with reality. One night she could have sworn she was visited by a raven haired boy, not much older than she. That he whispered to her and promised her she would not die. That he would protect her at all costs, even if it meant slaughtering the crew one by one. But he never returned. Only a figment of her dazed imagination.

Then she heard the deep voice in the storm, and followed it to the stern of the ship. “Jump,” it beckoned. “Jump and I will keep you safe.” But the voice had turned shrill, no longer that of the boy, but of a treacherous creature. It was too late. One foot was already off the rail, and Katrin’s balance faltered. Down and down she fell into the storming seas. Her nightgown caught around her.

She had been a fine swimmer once, holding her breath for minutes as she dove under the caverns of Alentus. But much had changed since then. Bubbles trickled out of her nose as she decided which way she should swim. Even under the water the tumultuous waves seemed to crash against her.

The reflection of the ship pulled away, its name blurred on the stern by the tides. But a mirror image also lingered below her. Six letters. Six letters. Six letters. Where to swim? Where to swim? Where to swim? She clawed at her throat as she tried to kick. Propel herself toward the surface, toward the air of the night. Willing herself to keep going for just a moment longer. But with each kick, the water’s break seemed to get farther and farther away.

She would not make it, and Katrin wondered if it would be easier to just give up. The water poured into her mouth. She was drowning. She was dying. She was already dead.

Katrin coughed and gasped and clung to her throat. Over and over she rasped breath after breath, not knowing where the next one would come from.

“Shhhh…” she heard that voice whisper. The boy from her dream. No, not from her dream at all, but from her memory. Ander had been there. He had seen her. He had tried to protect her. Like he was now, sitting beside her on the bed stroking her long, tangled brown hair.

Ander had been willing to let her go. He had kept saying again and again that she was not a prisoner on this ship, but she never thought he meant it.

What would you know about being a survivor?

More than you think.

Her breathing was labored as she tried to focus again—what had been memory, what had been present? Her throat and ribs and bones burned, much like they had during those days floating on the sea. When she had not known if she would ever reach land or eat or see another person again. When she had not known if she would live.

“It was only a nightmare, Starling. You’re safe now. You’re safe here.” His voice was soft and light. A stark contrast to the one she had heard in the alley last night as he slaughtered the remaining men.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” she rasped, the salty taste of the sea still lingering in her mouth. More likely a taste from the sweat that dripped past her lips. “It was a memory.”

Katrin could feel Ander’s chest rise and fall against her. Normally she would have pushed him off—replied with a sarcastic quip. She was too tired, and honestly too lonely to do that now. How many times would awful men take pieces of her? She fought tooth and nail and it was still not enough. She was never enough.

Ander gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his deep turquoise eyes staring straight through her, like he really saw her, like there was more behind those muted, lifeless brown irises. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked.

She shook her head. She did not want to talk about it. Did not want to add the mental pain to the pain she physically felt. She kept thinking about the nameless ship. She never made out what it was. “Where did The Nostos get its name?” A ship’s name was always very personal, a lover or a place that was dear to one's heart.

“Questions again? The ship may be new, but the name is from the time of the Olympi. It was my father’s ship’s name once, and his father’s before that. It is supposed to represent a journey home.” Ander sat up a little, cradling his hands behind his head. Katrin nuzzled her head into the nook by his shoulder. She needed to be close to someone. Anyone.

It absolutely, unequivocally, did not have anything to do with the kiss he left on her cheek last night, or him carrying her to safety from the alley, or his intoxicating scent of lemon and the sea.

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