Page 90 of Those Fatal Flowers

“A musket,” I say, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. “A weapon.”

“But how?” Raidne’s brows crumple in confusion.

Her question makes my palms sweat. But how indeed. Was it one of the women, unable to bear the sight of usbewitching their men? No, Cora would never allow that…unless she, too, was revolted by what she saw and felt compelled to try to fix it.

“Stay here.”

“Thelxiope—”

“Someone’s stuffed their ears with wax—they aren’t enchanted. Just wait here until you hear me sing.”

“But—”

“Please. I need you both to trust me one last time.”

I cling to clouds as I descend back toward the ship. The sailors still stand stupefied on the main deck, looking for any sign of us. As soon as they see me, they’ll start calling out, alerting whoever has the musket to my presence. I hang suspended, unsure how to proceed, when Raidne and Pisinoe’s song begins again, this time from the opposite side of theEndurance.

All the men turn to the south to face their sound. The distraction is enough. I drop to the side of the ship and skirt along its edges until I spot the longboat in the water. It’s nestled against theEndurance,a baby animal hiding beside its mother for protection. From here, I can read the faces of the women, and they’re terrified, including those who knew something was going to happen.

The children wail, and the din swells so loudly I fear it might mask my sisters’ song, but the damage to the men above is already done. A loud crash into the waves reveals another sailor who grew tired of waiting and took to the sea to try to reach Raidne and Pisinoe.

Little Ambrose sees me first, and when he does, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream. The wax isn’t strong enough to block it out entirely, and it doesn’t take long for the others tospot me, too. Some shriek and point, trying to warn the sailors above, but thankfully, the men don’t listen. I search for familiar faces—Rose watches me with confused, wide eyes. Elyoner makes the sign of the cross.

Elizabeth blinks back tears and holds a hand over her mouth.

But no one has the musket.

Thomas.

I hold a finger to my lips, desperately mimingshh.I don’t know if he’ll be able to hear the commotion that they’re making from wherever he is above, but if he spots them all flailing, finding me won’t be difficult.

“Please,” I mouth, and to my surprise, it’s Ambrose who stops crying first. Elizabeth turns to the others, her hands finding their shoulders, their backs, though what she says to try to calm them is lost to the waves. When she finally looks over her shoulder at me, she nods ever so slightly—I nod back, and then I climb onto the ship.

I make my way down to the half deck. There below, in themiddle of the swaying sailors, is Thomas. His left arm is wrapped around Cora’s neck, and she struggles to break free of the choke hold he has her in. Emme lies in a crumpled mess at their feet. Her frizzy red hair is matted with crimson.

His bright expression reveals my worst fear. Thomas isn’t enchanted. Behind him, several of his closest allies are bound to the main mast. They writhe and demand to be released, to be allowed to seek out the otherworldly creatures who sing their fates, but Thomas disregards their pleas.

He’s too busy searching the skies. His right hand holds the loaded musket, though there’s no way he’ll be able to aim it accurately with Cora in tow. The key is to make him fire it. After the round is released, he’ll need to drop Cora to reloadit. That’s time I can use to strike it from his hands, and then, finally, he’ll be mine.

Cora spots me before Thomas does; she gasps at the sight of me, unintentionally drawing Thomas’s attention to the half deck. A large grin slices across his face when he finds me, and he raises the musket.

“Think you’re so clever?” he shouts. For a moment, I wonder why he bothers addressing me at all, but then I realize—it’s because I’m not quite within the weapon’s range. He needs to draw me closer. “I’ll admit, you almost had me. But imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon Margery on the main deck trying to seal her son’s ears with bayberry wax, of all things!” His grin is predatory, vile, and my stomach churns with the realization that I never saw Margery or Jeremie inside the longboat.

“What have you done to them?” I growl back, forgetting that he can’t hear me.

“And now a young boy will pay the price for his mother’s treachery. Remember that, Margery. This is your fault.”

Only then do I find her face among the men tied to the mast. She thrashes against the ropes that bind her in place, and though her mouth is stuffed with something, her frantic screams still escape around the fabric. Thomas cocks his head to the left, and I discover the source of Margery’s panic: There, standing on the ship’s edge with a few of the other sailors, is Jeremie. Thomas must have stolen his wax, and without it, he’s not protected. The wind blows through his mousy hair, so much like his mother’s. It makes his linen shirt billow like a cloud.

There’s no time to wonder if a future version of Jeremie deserves to drown. There’s only this moment, where he’s just a child, not yet two. Instinct takes hold, and I call out to him,spreading open my wings. My voice must cut through some of the song’s magic, because he turns to look at me over his shoulder. But after the briefest flicker of a smile, he jumps.

He’s gone.

Margery’s screams shatter something inside of me, and I rush forward after him. I don’t understand the situation I’ve put myself in until I hear the musket boom.

The sound is so startling that I instinctively throw my body to the left, though I have no way of knowing where the musket ball is as it tears out of the gun’s barrel to find me. It grazes my right arm, spraying a trail of blood and feathers across the deck.

The gun kicks back against Thomas’s shoulder, and Cora uses the force of the blow to tear herself from his grasp.

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