Page 150 of A Storm in Every Heart
I gather far more strength than should be necessary and focus on opening my eyes again, just for a second. It takes an enormous effort, but my eyes finally flutter open.
I hope it’s enough, and it must be, because Connell continues. “Alright, listen carefully because once it’s done there’s no going back.The Sea Witchis no ordinary ship. As long as she sails, she needs a captain, and that captain can’t leave his post until another one is chosen. Not even death will end your service to the ship. Once you take command, the ship will be your entire life, and you must sail at least six months of every year until the end of time or another captain takes your place. This has to be your choice. I can’t force it, but if you’re willing, the ship will do the rest.”
He lets his words hang heavy in the air.
I feel like there must be more to this—there must be a reason that Connell is the way he is, and why he calls his immortality a curse. Maybe it’s just that being trapped eats away at you, and leaves you changed. Maybe it will be like Dyaspora, where hopelessness bleeds you dry, chipping away piece by piece, until you’re not the same man who first arrived.
There’s a moment where I see a vision of myself, drained and haggard, eyes gone white with salt, standing on the deck of a ship made of bones and teeth. I see the horizon, always just out of reach, eternity strung out like a noose. I see myself returning, year after year, to a world that forgot my name.
But then I see Dessa, violet eyes furious and alive. I see her laugh, and I know that I’ll never get enough of that sound, no matter how many centuries I serve. I see her future—a future without me, maybe, but one where she’s free.
If I have to become something monstrous to save her, then I’ll do it. I die for her a thousand times over, so what’s different about living for her?
Before I even have the chance to blink my acceptance, I feel something shift.
A cold wind seems to pass over me, raising every hair on my body. My heart beat turns erratic, thundering faster and faster until it finally stops. A long beat passes where my pulse doesn’t pound, but my chest doesn’t feel empty. The bond is still there, pulsing and alive.
My heart starts again, a single pulse, and I gasp and open my eyes.
ODESSA, PRESENT
The ocean is calling to me.
I’m standing at the window, looking out over the sea. The waves crash against the small, rocky beach beside the castle in time with my breathing. It feels as if the water is reaching out to me. Like it knows that there’s no other option for me but to sink beneath the waves.
It’s been four days since I was locked in the tower. I know that there’s still a chance of getting out of this—of Daemon arriving in time to find Kastian and keep me from being forced into a marriage, but everyday my hope dwindles a little more and the call of the sea grows louder.
Magnus hasn’t returned to the tower since the first day, except once to ask me to write a letter to Daemon and Alix telling them that I’m safe.
I wrote it, but only because I was sure that they’d be able to read between the lines and know that we’re in trouble. I’m surethey’ll come to help, with or without their budding army, but I don’t know how long it will take the letter to reach them. By the time they get it, it might be too late.
I could be married and Kastian could be dead.
He might be dead already.
I try not to have that thought; try to shove it firmly from my mind every time it pops into my head, but it’s becoming harder and harder with each passing day.
I try to remind myself that I’d know if he died because we’re bonded, but that thought is only more terrifying. It’s not as if I have years of experience of how a bond is supposed to feel. Apparently, I wasn’t even aware of it for over a century, so how can I be sure that I would know if he was hurt?
Even now, when I focus, I can’t feel anything. Kastian seems distant and unreachable.
A sharp knock sounds at the door. I don’t even bother to look away from the window. I know that whomever it is—servant or soldier—will come in anyway no matter what I say. Sure enough, the doorknob turns and the hinges creek.
“Odessa?”
I glance over my shoulder. There’s an unfamiliar servant girl standing there wearing a slightly too large dress. She’s holding a bundle of white silk.
“Whatever that is, put it on the bed,” I say without inflection.
The girl shuts the door behind her, but doesn’t move to release the bundle of fabric.
I look over my shoulder again at her. Her face is screwed up, as if in concentration.
“Didn’t you hear me? Put it on the bed.”
“Shut up for a minute, I'm trying to concentrate,” the servant says sharply.
My eyes go wide in surprise—it’s probably the most emotion I’ve shown in days, but that barely registers. “What did you say?”
