Page 79 of The Sun God's Prize
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I do my best to keep Sheelan distracted, though she avoids me most of the time after that first night on board, perching on a cushion she’s stacked on a barrel at the aft of the ship, lost in thought most days.She doesn’t want to talk further about what she’s left behind, and there’s nothing we can do about it, regardless, as the ship navigates the river waters in a darkly nostalgic journey that has me spending many hours looking out over the railing, watching the banks and the crocodons sunning themselves on the grassy shores.
Every once in a while, on that two-week trip, I spot a familiar-looking ship, suddenly alert and predatory, but none are the one I’m seeking, watching for, the slaver vessels sailing past unmolested despite my disgust for their trade.
There’s only one such that I wish to encounter on this journey, one person on one deck whom I long to meet again.But whatever fate has in store for Vunoshe themasterre, it’s not death at my hand.
At least, not on this journey.
My disappointment grows by the day.
Aurous is also emotionally absent, though she’s turned toward the prow, easy enough to find hanging over the railing with her nose turned north.She’s quiet, almost silent, even at night, at mealtimes, and it’s not until I notice we’re speeding past a few other ships that seem to flounder despite their own sails that I realize why she’s so unavailable.
“You’re influencing our travel,” I say to her one afternoon when the humidity has finally evaporated and I’m chilly enough from the constant breeze to need the cloak I brought out from her mother’s tomb.
She glances at me, sparks in her amber eyes.“I thought you knew,” she says, then goes quiet again.
The crew has grown as spooked as the captain, all of them giving Aurous a wide berth, Sheelan, and me, too, though I’ve heard their speculative whispers and know they’re terrified they’ve brought demons on board.As long as they keep their distance, I don’t care who they think we are.
I’m standing off to one side, lost in thought, when Hepha finally comes to talk to me, pointing at my hand.
“That is a priceless gift you bear,” she says.“I hope you appreciate it.”
“I appreciate the woman who gave it to me,” I tell her, “if not the order who abandoned her to her fate.”
The assassin doesn’t meet my eyes and has never shown her face in my presence.But when she turns away, I catch the wetness on her cheek and know that there’s more to the story that I may yet learn.
Someday.For now, I stroke the small band with my thumb and think of Brem.
I do hope she’s well.Then hiss in despair.I am about to fall into melancholy over my lack of foresight, that I could have insisted we bring her along, too, had I thought things through, when I feel the barrier of the Overkingdom’s pressing magic wash over me and instantly reach.
Brem’s not forgotten, but there are those who take precedence now.
Atlas!Zenthris!
REMI!And then we’re together as powerfully as before, more so, if only in the kinspark.Our forward momentum stutters, drawing me out of the dizzying delight that is reconnection with the men I love, which pushes me to rush forward, to catch Aurous, who sways with one hand pressed to her forehead.
But she squeezes my hand and resumes her focus, sighing softly when she speaks.
“Auntie’s agony,” she whispers, a single tear on her cheek.“It’s worse even than I imagined it could be.”Her golden gaze glistens with moisture, lashes thick with it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feel a hand slide over my back, look down to find my kinspark has joined us, dark eyes finally turned north, too.
“As am I,” Sheelan says.
“We must free her,” Aurous says, aching in her voice, sparks flaring.She’s so rarely temperamental.In fact, I think this is the first time I’ve seen her angry.
“We will,” I say, hugging her around the shoulders, Sheelan between us.
We emerge into the Crescent Sea the following morning, popping out of the end of the river like a cork expelled from a bottle, Aurous’s enthusiasm carrying us far out into the open waters before she slows our forward motion.It’s so much colder than it was before, bitterly so.I’ve forgotten what chill is like, our trip too fast to acclimate me to the cusp of winter that I should already be prepared for.
Sheelan is going to hate it here.
And then the cold is forgotten when I spot the familiar red sails in the distance, foam forming a spout at her prow, as the captain calls out his concern.
I wave him off.
“They are friends,” I tell him.“Bring us alongside.”
