Page 25 of Fate of Echoes and Embers
“You listen to it,” he said, voice quieter now, as if sharing a secret. “Feel the wind, watch the waves. The sea speaks, Issa, in whispers and tempests. Ignore it, and it will remind you who is in command.”
He nodded toward the horizon, where the water stretched endless and untamed. “Steer too sharp, and she’ll throw you off balance. Take her for granted, and she’ll drag you under.” His gaze flickered back to me, something unreadable in the depths. “But if you learn her moods, earn her trust, she’ll carry you farther than you ever thought possible.”
“You speak of the ocean as if it is truly alive,” I said, becoming more accustomed to the pull of the waves, a constant but unmistakable tug under my fingertips.
The ship rocked beneath us, the rhythmic creak of the hull and the snap of sails filling the quiet space between Marek and me, though his presence was undeniable beside me.
“Respect,” I murmured, running my hands over the wheel’s worn surface. “Not control.”
Marek’s lips curled, approval gleaming in his eyes. “Aye, sereia.”
My heart skipped a beat, sereia sounding like an endearment. I should chastise him for the intimacy, but instead questioned his choice of words.
“Sereia is a sea spirit, is it not?”
Marek leaned back on the nearby railing, watching me. “Indeed. Do you know the Legend of the Drowned King?”
I shook my head.
“There was once a Thalassarian king who sought to command the seas themselves. He sailed into the heart of a storm, believing he could bend the waves to his will. A sereia appeared to him, her voice woven with the wind and water. She warned him, ‘The ocean is no one’s to rule, but to honor. Yield, or be claimed by the Depths.’ Proud and defiant, the king laughed, and the sea swallowed him whole. Yet, the sereia took pity on his people, for they had not shared his arrogance. She granted them safe passage, whispering the secrets of the tides to the ones who would listen. From them, the first true sailors of Thalassaria were born: those who did not fight the sea, but danced with it.”
“They are not real, though, right?”
That was the look.
The one that drew me in.
Gave me hope.
Stole my heart.
This time, I knew better. But it still had an effect on me. I was not Gyorian, made of soil and stone. I was just a human, with only one lifetime to learn. The lessons—ones like “do not let the same person break your heart twice”—offered to a human could only be ignored at one’s own peril. Even so, I was not impervious to Marek’s charm. The battle between my head and my heart was as real as the one humans fought against their enemies.
“They are real in the sense that, when a Thalassarian uses the term, it means they see something untamed, something powerful. It’s not just a name but an acknowledgment of a force that cannot be controlled, only deeply respected.”
“Always, you have the right words.”
“I have only the truth.”
The wheel jerked beneath my hands. In a flash, Marek was behind me, his hands covering my own as a large swell hit the hull unexpectedly, shifting our course.
“Lightly,” he said, as we began to turn the wheel to the left. “Into the wave.Tidechasermay be reluctant to obey an unfamiliar hand, but she will heed your touch if you do not force her.”
He was so damn close. His fingers brushed mine, making it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Trying harder, I slowly pulled the wheel at the same speed as Marek. With a creak of the ropes and rigging,Tidechaserbegan to respond.
“She’s moving,” I said, unsure why the fact surprised me.
“That is, generally, the point,” he said. Marek’s voice had always affected me by its tone and pitch. Something about the deep, gravelly tone to it made me shiver.
“If you plan to beTidechaser’s new captain on this journey, you’d best dress warm. This time of year, even on the nicest of days, the wind’s chill can be felt.”
I wasn’t cold but didn’t mention that fact.
As Marek stepped back, he said, “Keep it steady there.”
I was doing it. The ship responded, our course now reset. Every bit of me felt alive, the vastness of the sea before us without compare.
I would not mourn the loss of him pressed against my back, or the feel of his fingers next to mine. Reminding myself of the days after he left when I hadn’t wanted to rise from bed in the morn, when near constant thoughts of him intruded, uninvited, I steeled my mind against a different kind of intruding thought.
