Page 405 of Kingdoms of Night

Felix glanced at the tall oak beside them.

“Don’t worry about the trees telling our secrets. I can hear them, and they don’t care about any of my father’s wishes.”

Felix touched Viridi’s shoulder again. “I’ll never give up on you. You can’t talk me out of that.”

He hated how much he loved hearing that. “But you’ll keep urging the council and my father to leave the island as I wish, right?”

“I will. What are you going to do to motivate them, to make them believe you are a threat not only to the outsiders but to us?” He pronounced the last two words with a tone that said he knew the act would be a horror. He was correct.

Felix glanced at the place where the skiff had been dragged ashore. Beside those marks in the sand, a broken barrel and a sea-washed cloak that must have belonged to the wrecked ship listed in the tide.

Viridi smiled sadly at Felix. “Go back to your tree. You need sleep. Your fatigue is tugging at me like an ocean current.”

Felix patted Viridi’s back once, nodded, and left, seemingly content to let Viridi keep his plan a secret.

Viridi let the wind filter through his hair and over the wooden tips of his ears and fingers. He imagined he could hear the ship cutting through the waves on its path to Khem or wherever else they might go. He pretended the sweet sound of a curious lady with a smile as warm as sunlight spoke of adventures to come, pretended the song of her voice cascaded through the wind. Isa was too far to truly hear now, but it was a pleasant fiction.

Turning, he resolved to rest in a tree until the others woke for starlight. Tomorrow afternoon, or maybe in the night, he would find a way to turn his father toward a future far away from here.

Felix disappeared into the shadows, and Viridi melded with the largest jeweltree on the shoreline. Pushing his longing for Isa away, he turned his mind to how he could strike terror into the hearts of his people.

Because if he failed, they were all as good as dead.

He knew when he rose fully as the Thorned One, he would end them all in his rage and thirst. He was no savior.

He was a nightmare coming to life.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

ISA

Isa tried to be happy. She was indeed incredibly grateful to Werian and Rhianne and the crew for healing and feeding them, and for the hammocks for proper seagoing sleep. But only two days had passed and already she longed to fling herself overboard and swim back to the dryad island and Viridi.

She wanted it so badly she could hardly keep herself on board. Moon-shaped cuts showed in the railing beneath her fingernails as she gripped the painted wood trim and tried not to be a madman.

TheNucklavee’s Daughterwas a beautiful ship with sleek black trim, touches of brass, and sails as white as summer clouds. Even the crew’s sleeping quarters were tidy. Well, perhaps not tidy, but not horrible either. The decks were regularly swabbed with water Rhianne magicked to smell of lemons.

But still, Isa hated it because it wasn’t Viridi’s castle.Goddess, I’m a whiner, a brat, an ungrateful lout. She shook her head and attempted to be a normal person.

Rhianne handed Isa a crockery mug of what smelled like rum and oranges. “You must tell me what’s wrong, love.” The swinging lanterns along the ship’s side made her chestnut hair shimmer.

Isa took a sip; the rum burned its way down her throat. “I couldn’t possibly. I’d lose any shred of respect I’ve gained from you.”

Rhianne’s smile had soft edges. “Not possible.”

“Even if what I wish were happening is completely and utterly mad?” The crescent moon’s glow touched Isa’s fingers. She tucked her hand into her pocket to hide the strange skin on the edge of her palm and wrist. It was spreading.

“As a left-handed cobbler’s niece,” Rhianne said, “I traipsed into the forest of Illumahrah to meet the Matchweaver Witch of that time. I was convinced there was a match out there for me despite the warnings and mocking of my fellow villagers, as well as the wolves in the woods.”

“So you’re saying you’re mad and thus you’ll understand a likeminded woman?”

Rhianne laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” And she did.

Isa shook her head.

“No, truly,” Rhianne said, “I am as practical as you seem to be and yet I plunged into the dark forest with no support, and went after what I wanted. Werian and I, we are dreamers. And dreamers often live a life no one else can even imagine.”

“How can you be a dreamer and also practical?” Isa asked. “They’re opposites.”

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