Page 66 of Circle of Shadows
Daemon swam all night. He swam until his muscles cramped, and then he pushed on some more, the magic of his sailfish spell allowing him to continue past ordinary human limits. His lungs burned and his lips cracked from the seawater, and still, he kept swimming. He would never make it to Tiger’s Belly before the ryuu. Their magic could command the sea. Even against an ordinary ship, Daemon’s arms and legs would be no match. But he could do his best and swim ashore on one of the smaller islands nearby.
At the same time, he tried to project the will to resist Prince Gin through his gemina connection. Where was that electric feeling he’d had before, the sharp spark he’d used to shock Sora out of the Dragon Prince’s spell? He needed to send it to Sora again.
But he couldn’t find it. Perhaps Daemon had to be under attack by Prince Gin’s magic in order for his own defenses to rise. There was no blaze of resistance now, just his ownthoughts reciting,Be strong, Sora, be strong, over and over again.
And yet, even that was useless. His urging went nowhere, like throwing a ball at a cushioned wall. It simply bounced back, muted. It was as if Sora’s mental ramparts were up.
Why were her ramparts up?
Oh gods,he thought, his arms growing heavier in the water.What if Prince Gin has already hypnotized her?
Part of Daemon wanted to let himself drown. He couldn’t bear to think of Sora stolen by the Dragon Prince. His strong, brilliant gemina reduced to one of the lemmings who followed the prince around.
But another part of Daemon knew that he had to keep going. If Sora had fallen under the charm spell, she’d need him now more than ever. And that part of him guiltily liked that he had a chance to be the hero of the story for once. Between the pair of them, Sora had always shined brighter. Daemon didn’t even know who his parents were or where he’d come from, for gods’ sake.
He heaved himself onto shore, his arms too tired to take care not to slice himself on the coral.
Officially, these islands were called the Sanran Atoll, but Kichonans had long ago nicknamed them the Belly Lint Atoll, since they were a sprinkle of tiny islands south of Tiger’s Belly, and on a map, they looked like specks of navel dirt.
Daemon flipped onto his back and lay there, panting. Because he was no longer in the water, the sailfish spell left him, and with it, his sailfish endurance disappeared, too. Suddenly, human exhaustion caught up and slammed intohim. Not two minutes from climbing out of the sea, Daemon passed out.
The sun was up when Daemon woke. His eyes flew open in a panic. Was it morning already? How much time had passed? Gods, he couldn’t afford to fall asleep!
Waves lapped at his legs, and the salt water stung the myriad cuts on his skin. The pain helped him focus, and he realized that whatever time he’d lost couldn’t be recovered, so worrying over it was a waste. All that mattered now was getting to Tiger’s Belly as quickly as possible.
I need a boat. I can’t beat Prince Gin there, but maybe I can still get to Tiger’s Belly before they leave with the new batch of recruits. In time to save Sora.
Daemon rolled over and got to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to jog toward the cluster of thatch-roofed huts farther up the beach.
Half a dozen fishermen sat on a small pier, some sorting through the day’s catch, others mending nets. It must have been later than Daemon thought it was.Please let the ryuu still be at Tiger’s Belly.
“Yah-ho!” he shouted when he was close enough.
The men looked up at his greeting.
Daemon stopped at the edge of the pier and gave a short bow of his head. “Hello there. I was hoping you could help me.”
They blinked at Daemon, as if he were a strange apparition. He must have looked like some sort of sea creature, dripping wet with seaweed and sand clinging to his clothes.
“Look at his hair,” one of the men whispered. “It looks like the midnight ocean.”
The others gawked.
“Um...” Daemon ran his fingers through his hair. Damn blue roots. Once this was all over, he was going to dye them again. But first, he had the small order of business of defeating a magical, vengeful prince bent on hypnotizing all of Kichona. Easy.
After a few more seconds of gaping, the first man who’d noticed Daemon’s hair dropped to his knees and lay out prostrate on the pier, as if bowing to the empress herself.
“What are you doing?” Daemon asked, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Get up. I’m not royalty.”
“Nauti is testing us,” the man said to the others.
They murmured their understanding that they were in the presence of the god of the sea, who in some myths had hair as blue and black as the deepest part of the ocean. They immediately fell to their knees and laid themselves before Daemon.
“No!” Daemon said, the ridiculousness of the scene pushing back on his own embarrassment. “I’m not a god. Especially Nauti, who I’m pretty sure wouldn’t look like a drowned dog if he wanted to appear before you. Look, I’m only a taiga.”
The men crawled up from their bows a little, although they remained on their knees, just in case. “A taiga?”
“Yes, I am called Wolf, and I am in dire need of your assistance. I need a boat so I can get to Tiger’s Belly. Whatever it costs, the Society will reimburse you, and then some. But please, get up. I need this boat quickly.”
