36

NERYS

Perhaps the shard was a good thing.

Rather than concentrating on the queen’s glare, one she had perfected over many years of ruling, I searched my mind for the Purification Rite. It was simple; knowledge of the Sacred Waters and pure intent were really all that was necessary. Each town in Thalassari contained these waters, having been built around them. To outsiders, they appeared like any other fountains, but they were anything but.

The largest of the Tidebreaker fleet’s ships loomed ahead of us on the docks. It was not one under Marek’s command, but he had been given leave to accompany us. He spoke to its Navarch as we halted, the queen not far from me. I could not see her face from here, nor did I wish to.

As far as I could remember, simply invoking the Rite would be sufficient.

You can remember.

Thalon’s words were not just a show of support for my memory, which could not be considered superior. Seren believed deeply in ancestral intuition. Whenever Thalon or I were looking for a particular scroll or attempting to pull knowledge together, she would use the words, reminding us that some truths could not be learned or studied; they must be lived.

Channeling the Sacred Waters, something I’d never attempted as it was rarely done—doing so indiscriminately often had the opposite effect than intended—was hopefully one of these instances. I would invoke the Rite with pure intent and knowledge of the waters to fade the corruption of the shard Lirael attempted to use.

“How did he know?”

Marek held out his hand for me as we boarded.

“I am uncertain,” I said. “Clearly, he has some form of the Sight, but denied it when we first met,” I whispered. “Rowan insists he did not lie to me then, so it makes little sense. He asks for my trust but keeps secrets, admitting as much, so I’ve no notion what to think, or believe.”

Marek guided me to the front of the ship, away from the queen and her companions. We would not be traveling far, and as the ship was readied by its crew, I found it increasingly difficult to steady my nerves. I was about to battle with the most powerful water-wielder on Elydor, one with an advantage tucked away in her belt.

“Look at me.”

Serious Marek. A version of him as rare as an unsmiling Rowan.

“I’ve not traveled anywhere, or met anyone that can wield water as effortlessly as you. Forget everything, and everyone, and show them what you are capable of.”

“The shard?—”

“Do you know the Rite?”

The ship began to move. “As best I can.”

“Nullify the abyss’s power as soon as you are able. Do you remember the day we met?”

It was an abrupt change of topic.

“I do.”

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the day I finally learned what it means to trust someone, completely. Someday, I will learn to deserve that trust. Today is about trust, Nerys, of a different kind. One where you must fully trust yourself. If you do, there is no doubt in my mind we will return to that shore with a different queen than who reigns now.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Rowan wants me to trust him. You trust no one,” I qualified. “Except me,” I said, predicting his response. “Trust me. It is such a nebulous idea, trust. Is it not?”

Marek’s typical roguish gaze softened, his eyes glazing over in a rare show of vulnerability. “Not when it’s earned. Trust is a leap, not knowing where you’ll land but knowing that you will, jumping anyway, even when a part of you cautions against it.”

Trust is a leap. And I was about to jump.

I tossed my arms around him. “I am lucky to have a friend such as you.”

He pulled me tight. “I am the lucky one.” He separated us as the ship slowed already. “As is Rowan.”

I looked into his eyes, and though Marek said no more, his meaning was clear.

Trust was a leap, and one I would need to take with Rowan too.