Page 38 of When the Wicked Sing
Dax removed his cloak and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Then, together, they removed Mari’s dirty dress and set her gently in the tub.
“Hold her up so she doesn’t drown,” Spiro instructed, moving his hands so one was beneath Mari’s neck and the other under her back. “If she wakes, take it slow. She’ll be frightened and in pain. Be kind, Dax.”
Spiro held his gaze, and Dax nodded as the door opened, revealing Kenna holding a steaming plate of food.
“I brought all they had left in the kitchens at this time of night.” She set it down on the table as Spiro stood.
“Thank you,” Dax said, and Kenna gave him a slight nod.
“If she doesn’t wake in an hour, pull her out and let her rest on the cot,” Spiro instructed, their voice soft but firm. Theygave Dax’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Try to eat. I’ll check on you both in the morning.”
The door closed softly behind them, leaving Dax alone with Mari.
Releasing a deep sigh, Dax glanced at Mari’s face. Her brows were tight and her mouth slightly open. It looked like she was concentrating on whatever was happening inside her mind.
“C’mon, Little Tempest,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as rain began softly pattering the roof. “Wake up.”
Chapter 20
Deathhadalwaysfeltlike a distant concept to Mariana—something inevitable yet unknowable. She had never dared to imagine what might come after. Would it be silence? Light? The comforting embrace of Amphitrite, leading her somewhere beyond the waves?
This wasn’t what she’d expected: floating weightlessly through a sea of stars, their soft glow brushing against her like whispered secrets. Millions of tiny, sparkling stars surrounded her, each pulsing with a soft, otherworldly light. They shimmered and danced, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the void. Unable to feel anything, her mind devoid of all thoughts, she was completely weightless in mind, body, and soul.
Then that weightlessness shifted as the stars began to blur, melting into streams of light that twisted and intertwined like ribbons in the wind. The sensation of falling, yet not falling, enveloped her.
Mariana blinked, and she was standing on a beach. One that was all too familiar. The moon hung low in the starry sky, castinga silvery glow over the sands. The horizon was a deep indigo where the sky met the sea, blending into an infinite expanse.
Waves washed over her feet, startling her as her senses all flooded back. The water was cool against her skin, the salt air sharp in her lungs. She was wearing a gown of flowing blue fabric that seemed to ripple like water in the breeze. She ran her fingers over the pristine fabric, feeling its delicate texture.
“Mari?” a soft voice called from behind her as gentle as the breeze. She turned to find Celeste standing under the moonlight near her small home, which looked different than before. It looked like a quaint cottage made of driftwood and sea glass, glowing faintly in the lunar light.
Blinking past the confusion, she gazed at Celeste. Mariana couldn’t believe it was her.
“Celeste?” she murmured, her voice catching in her throat before she bolted up the beach toward her friend, her heart pounding in her chest.
Celeste opened her arms wide and embraced Mariana. The scent of lavender coated her lungs, mingling with the salty tang of the sea, and tears sprang into her eyes. “You’re here, you’re here,” she whispered over and over as Celeste softly laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.
“Of course I am! Where else would I be?”
Mariana pulled back, her face dropping as she stared into her friend’s pale eyes, which now seemed to reflect the depths of the ocean, endless and ancient.
“You’re …”dead. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word out loud, as it appeared Mariana, too, may very well be dead.
“Tongue tied up, my dear? You know, I have a potion for that,” Celeste said with a wink and a glimmer in her eye. She tugged Mariana toward the cabin, their feet leaving no prints in the sand, and a few moments later, they were sitting at her round table with steaming mugs in their hands. The cabin’s interior was cozy, filled with the warm glow of candlelight, casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with shells and dried herbs.
It wasn’t the same as the cabin Celeste had in Egan Village. There were hints of things Mariana remembered from before—like the table she sat at was still chipping white paint, and her bed quilt was still the same colorful weave—yet everything felt … different.
She shook her head and glanced down at the warm mug.
“I don’t understand,” Mariana whispered, watching the steam curling up from her tea turn into intricate patterns that hung in the air. The fragrant aroma of chamomile and honey filled the room.
Mariana’s eyes shot up to her friend. “Are we both …?”
“Dead?”
Mariana shuddered as the word clanged through the room. Her chest tightened with a storm of tormented emotions.
Celeste reached out and gripped Mariana’s hand, her touch warm and grounding. “No, darling. We’re not dead. We’refree.”
