Page 65 of Waves
“How’s your wing?” he asked gently, avoiding my other question.
The pulse of pain radiating from my fin was a needle compared to the sword that worry wielded.
Instead of answering him, I pressed further. “Mateo, where is everyone? What happened to them?”
The way he pressed his lips together told me all I needed to know.
“Who?” I asked.
His hand reached for mine and he squeezed, eyes dropping as he murmured, “At least forty townspeople. Keelan and Taft were badly injured. I’ve seen Keelan but I haven’t left this room, so I don’t know much about the nixe except he’s not walking.” His gaze lifted and the regret in his face rattled my bones with percussive force. I knew before his next words that worse was to come and I squeezed his fingers harshly, bracing for it. “Watkins… is gone.”
A blast of shock burst inside my skull at his words; a lightning streak blinded me. I forgot to breathe for a minute as I shot up in bed, adrenaline overriding all the blazing pain.
If Watkins was dead, where is…
“My heart!”
Chapter 28
Avia
Panic driving me, I snarled at Mateo until he relented and allowed me to go see Watkins.
Mateo had tried to cajole me into resting but I flat out refused and so his compromise was to carry me in his arms across all the bridges in town, my guards floating inconspicuously behind us as we went to check on the body.
Watkins couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be.
Night was just giving way to morning, and if it weren’t for the debris floating through the current, it would have looked like a peaceful morning. Instead of schools of fish darting overhead, however, there were bits of wood and seaweed casting dappled shadows across the ocean floor.
Two men riding polar bears swam past, their mounts tied to bundled loads of rubbish dragging behind them.
I probably shouldn’t have, but I glanced back in the direction of the open field where the island man had been. Nothing was there—he’d left and the space was empty—but my eyes didn’t simply see the patch of water as it was now. The churning rage of the whirlpool flitted into my vision for a second as memory eclipsed reality. A shudder hit my bones and shook them—hard.
I’d been terrified more times than I could count, but the wretched cruelty of mother nature hurt in a new way. The elements didn’t care if you lived or died. There was no pleading. No bargaining. No possibility of escape.
Life and death were coincidence.
Dumb luck.
And the guilt of being an undeserving survivor ate at me.
The people of Kremos met us with dull, listless stares. Some of the stares might even have been hostile, but I lacked the energy to discern which. I gave them sympathetic nods as we passed so I focused on getting to Lizza.
My mind raced, galloping from thought to thought.
What caused the whirlpool? How badly hurt was Taft? I should never have listened to Sahar and allowed this tournament to continue.
When we reached the mayor’s house, I didn’t even flinch as we walked through the dark cave in front of it.
Mateo managed to open the front door on his own without jostling me much, and once we were inside, one of Didero’s assistants immediately fluttered off at my request to find Lizza and Sahar.
The witch arrived before the siren, and I ushered her into a seat before turning to Mateo. “Can you check on Sahar please? I really need her.”
With a sharp nod, he swam off. Then I turned to Ugo and Paavo. “Privacy. No one comes in but Sahar.”
They also left the room, leaving me with just Lizza and her ever present black bag of tricks.
The undead woman gave me a cursory glance over but stopped when I said, “Mateo said Watkins is dead.”
