Page 33 of Heat of the Everflame

I weighed the risk of stopping in Faunos. Its Queen had been friendly when we’d met on Coeurîle. Perhaps with the flameroot muffling my magic, she wouldn’t see my presence as a threat—but after my disastrous coronation and the Crowns’ decision not to negotiate for my release, betting on goodwill from any of them was a dangerous wager.

My journey by sea would have to suffice.

I wondered, with a twinge of worry, how Brecke would make his own escape. He could purchase safe passage to the north at the port in Umbros, but to get there, he would have to bypass the vast deserts of Ignios.

Mortals were entirely forbidden within the Ignios borders, even on the Ring Road. Brecke would have to sail past its coast, a dangerous proposition when one wrong gust could bring him within the reach of their infamously ruthless Descended.

I sent out a silent prayer for his safe journey. His kindness despite my revelation as a Descended gave me hope that the peaceful future I dreamed of might not be so impossible after all.

The beginnings of a breeze kissed my cheeks, so I pulled in the oars and unfurled the flaxen sail wrapped around the center mast. Thankfully, my father had built a similar vessel for fishingand taught Teller and I to maneuver it, though my energetic spirit had never taken to the long, tranquil hours on the water like my brother. I had been all too happy to let it become their father-son bonding ritual while my own sailing skills rusted.

I forced myself to wade through that painful vault of memories, latching onto the sound of my father’s voice barking instructions at me one afternoon as our little boat wobbled.

Your sail is flapping, Diem—tighten the mainsheet. Good, see how much faster we’re moving? Now mind the boom, the wind is shifting. Your head, Diem, watch your head!

I grinned at the memory. The wind that day had been strong, and I’d been so exhilarated by our speed that I hadn’t noticed when the changing breeze had sent the sail swinging back across the boat—and taking me with it.

That’s a mistake you only make once, my father had teased as he’d hauled me out of the water, soaked and sputtering.

I fought the bittersweet grief that accompanied every thought of him as I pulled on the ropes. The wind quickly filled the sail and dragged me into a brisk pace.

Arboros faded away, and I nudged the boat’s tiller to follow the shoreline. It would be faster to venture out into the open sea and straight for Lumnos, but without a compass to guide me, I could easily end up lost.

Suddenly, the wind shifted. The sail flapped loudly, then filled again from the other direction. I ducked just in time to miss the wooden beam flying over the top of my head. The boat began to rotate as the bow swung in a wide circle back toward the shore.

That wasodd. Changing winds were normal, but I’d never felt a shift like that—never so extreme, so abrupt.

I scrambled to reset my course. By the time I’d managed to turn the boat and reset my ropes, I was nearly back to Arboros.

The breeze slowed, then stilled. The water turned glassy, and my dinghy bobbed in place. I sighed irritably and debated returning to oars, but no sooner had I reached for them than the wind picked back up, gusting so fiercely that my unbound hair swirled in my face.

I brushed it back with one hand and wrestled the ropes with the other in an awkward attempt to set the boat back on a path for deeper waters.

Before I could finish, the wind switched again. The sail went flying, and I couldn’t adjust in time to avoid the thick wooden pole of the boom smacking against the side of my head.

“By the Flames,” I hissed. I slumped into the floor of the boat and rubbed at my scalp until the stars stopped swimming in my vision. “Fine. No sailing tonight.”

I carefully stood and lowered the sail, then began securing it to the mast. I was so focused on my task that I nearly toppled overboard when the boat struck land. I looked back to discover that I’d already run ashore on the Arboros coast.

I frowned down at the waves lapping along the shoreline. “Impossible,” I murmured to myself. “The water wasn’t moving that quickly.”

I pushed off the sandy beach, then started rowing back out to sea. Rather than cutting smoothly through the water, my oars shuddered as if being dragged through mud. I grunted and threw my strength into fighting through it, winning a small bit of distance, but the second I stopped to catch my breath, the current swept me back toward land.

I looked around, at a loss for words. Powerful rip currents could indeed drag you out to sea in seconds, but I hadn’t imagined one could pull you so forcefully to shore, especially in such calm waters.

I shoved off land once more and turned my boat crossways, attempting to row myself out of whatever bizarre current wasdetermined to keep me from the sea. With considerable effort, I managed to put some distance between myself and the shore.

I let out a winded breath, laughing to myself at the absurdity of the situation. Nature seemed to have pit itself against me. It was almost as if some supernatural force was telling me to—

Thunk.

Splash.

Without warning, the dinghy tipped, dumping me into the freezing water. The cold stole the breath from my lungs, and I gasped for air as all my supplies sank into the water and disappeared.

“Damn it,” I shouted. “What in the tundras of hell am I supposed to do now?”

Seething, I dragged the boat back into shallow water. Weapons I could maybe survive without, but no food or fresh water? That would require constant trips to the mainland to hunt and forage, putting me at even higher risk of being caught and cutting my sailing time down to slivers.

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