Page 52 of Seaspoken

“Why don’t you come with us?” I say, turning back to the king. “Leave the lords to their petty games and come meet with the Atathari for yourself. They would think more of you for it.”

“Would they?” The king’s voice breaks with a sudden despair that takes me aback. His steely expression shatters, replaced with lines of worry and fear. “Do you really think the Seamother would give me a chance? You’re the most blameless among us, and she tried to kill you in cold blood.” Bitter resolve overtakes the despair. “You won’t accomplish anything by going back to them. If there was any hope of that, I would have done so long ago.”

“Stop speaking as if you know what my actions will accomplish. Neither of us know that. All I know is that I would rather die fighting for Evya than live in a world that keeps us apart—and that I was given a vision and must see it through.”

“I don’t have visions, Keliveth. I have a crumbling remnant of a kingdom and a council of lords who are constant blades against my throat.” His shoulders slump, and his hands clench and unclench with agitation. “You may think me harsh, but I once thought as you did, and I have paid for that folly more than you will ever know. The Eternal has left me with nothing. In harboring you and keeping my oaths to your family, I saw my last chance at regaining His favor, but even that will be gone if you return to the tuath.”

Falamar’s despair pierces me, and a deeper realization sinks in. If I had acted like a true Dalzana sooner instead of treading carefully around the nobles, might I have restored Falamar’s hope? I don’t even know the whole of his story before he came to Kara Davonashi, because I was never bold enough to delve into the secrets he keeps. Might I have tried to understand him better, and thus found a way to turn him aside from his destructive path before he grew so desperate?

I carefully set the thoughts aside. I will ponder them later. Right now, I don’t have time to dwell on what I should have done before.

I only know what I must do now.

“All these months I’ve worried over what you thought of me,” I admit, allowing myself to feel shame at the words. “And all this time, you’ve seen me only as a means to gain favor with the Eternal. If you want to blame me for making this situation complicated, then I will simplify it for you.”

The king’s head snaps up. “Keliveth, what—”

“Falamar Sovarthian, I release you from your oaths to Dalzana House.” The words spring up within me with sudden force. I cannot allow him to claim a hold over me any longer, both for my sake and for his. My voice turns calm, and my mind fills with the same certainty I feel when my visions take hold of me. “I do not need your protection, because you are not powerful enough to hold my life in your hand. I am a servant of the One Who Is, a voice of the Eternal who lays the paths of fate. I live or die by His will—not yours, not the Seamother’s, not even my own.”

Falamar blanches. It seems the very idea of revoking the oath terrifies him. “Have you gone mad, Dalzana?” He spits my name like a curse. “Or do you mean to call down the wrath of the Eternal upon your own people?”

“You are missing the point. I am not beholden to you. Never again. If you want the favor of the Eternal, you should seek Him yourself.”

Falamar’s face goes paler and paler in the moonlight, and his eyes flash with anger. His fingers tighten at his side. I realize with a shock that he’s grasping the hilt of a knife within the folds of his outer robe.

I reach for my own blade out of instinct. My hand meets nothing but the fabric of my tunic. The only weapons I have are the knives tucked away in my rucksack. I brace myself for his strike, ready to dodge.

He pulls the dagger from its hidden sheath and raises it, but he hesitates. Before he can gather himself to strike, I duck beneath the blade and dash toward Nadria’s stall.

The same instant, a dragon’s roar shakes the world around us. Nadria springs through her stall’s flimsy gate, a severed length of chain hanging from the steel collar around her neck. Evya clings to her back as the star dragon rears up and spreads her wings with a tremendous whoosh.

I dash forward, shouting out commands to the dragon. She plants her front feet on the ground and lowers her body enough for me to jump on. Evya catches my hand in midair and pulls me up. I straddle the dragon’s back in front of Evya. She wraps her arms around me and holds on tightly, bracing herself for takeoff.

Falamar shouts for me to stop, but his command is empty. He stares up at us, his expression wild with shock and dismay. He still clutches the knife in his hand, but his arm shakes as he keeps the blade pointed toward me. Behind him, the main gates of the courtyard crash open, and a host of guards and nobles pours into the stable yard. When they take in the sight, they halt in their tracks with mouths agape. I stare back, waiting to feel some pang of fear or regret. It does not come. The elves have all become small in my eyes. In this moment I feel nothing for them but pity.

“Whoever is willing should come to the southern beach tomorrow at sunset.” My voice rings out over the courtyard, carrying the authority of every prophet of my line. Bearing a sense of truth I feel in the deepest part of my soul. “You will have one last chance at peace. I beg you not to squander it.”

I give the dragon another command and a nudge with my heels. Falamar retreats in the wake of Nadria’s wings as she rises off the ground and carries us into the night. Shouts and threats rise from the stable yard, but they grow fainter and fainter until the sea wind carries them into oblivion.

They hold no more power over me.

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