Page 23 of Across an Endless Sea

All week? Just how long was I asleep for?

Prae’s eyes glint with something that could be annoyance, and she dismisses the blue-skinned brute with a wave of her hand.

“Bring me more of this other water,” she orders the faun. “She can’t bow before the king if she’s unconscious.”

Bow before the king?

That… doesn’t sound like something I should do.

Goddess, my thoughts are swimming. Frustration gnaws at me, and my fists clench meekly by my sides. I thought I’d put all of this—the fainting, the weakness, the helplessness—behind me when I came to Faerie. Apparently not. I desperately want more water, but the faun is gone, and Prae is looking down at me expectantly.

“Just in time to see your new home,” she mutters. “I have to admit, I thought you were going to die before we got here.”

To my surprise, she grabs a cushion from beside me and hauls me into a sitting position, giving me a better view of the ocean beyond and allowing me to peer between the crates at the deck.

Was I moved outside because of the iron? I suppose dying would ruin Caed’s plans.

Prae notices my slow perusal but doesn’t comment. Instead, she waits as I gradually bring myself to focus on the dark, imposing mountains that dominate the horizon.

“Welcome to Fellgotha, Your Majesty.” Her tone is as mocking as usual, but I can’t blame her.

I don’t feel much like royalty right now. I probably don’t look much like it either.

A glint of something gold on the water catches my eye, and I blink at it, trying to bring it into focus through blurry eyes. Is that a ship?

“King Elatha is coming to collect you personally,” Prae announces. “That’s his barge on the horizon. You’ll probably find it more to your liking, given the lack of iron…”

So itisa ship. One made of pure gold.

The faun returns, bearing a clay pitcher and a matching earthen cup. She kneels beside me, glancing furtively at Prae before she pours me some more of that precious water and helps me guide it to my mouth.

“Hurry up,” Prae grumbles, chucking a bundle of black fabric at her. “Then put her in this. She’s got to look presentable.”

The faun nods, and I realise the Fomorian wasn’t addressing me. Prae stalks off as the still-bleeding fae approaches me.

I struggle to push myself up further, and only succeed in half-pushing myself off the pillow Prae placed behind me.

Ugh, I hate this.

“My lady,” the faun whispers, crouching awkwardly on her goat legs and pressing more water to my lips. “Please stay still. The iron is still affecting you.”

I reluctantly do as she says, if only because I don’t think I can co-ordinate well enough to move by myself. My mouth is still too dry, but I try to speak, anyway.

“Are you all right?” My voice is so hoarse that the words are barely audible.

She startles, and water sloshes over the rim of the cup and over my chest.

“It’s not me you need to worry about, my lady!” she whispers, holding the cup to my lips with shaking hands. “That’s the king’s barge, and the Fomorians have been speculating for days about what he’ll do to you when he gets his hands on you.”

I take a gulp of water. Then another. I don’t stop until the tiny cup is drained.

“How long…?” I ask, and my voice is a little stronger this time.

“You’ve been unconscious since we set sail, almost a week ago,” the faun answers, pouring another cup. “The idiots were giving you water from iron casks. They only moved you outside when you started moaning and it annoyed the crown prince.”

This time, I manage to summon the strength to hold the cup to my own lips, and the faun takes that as a sign to grab the pile of discarded fabric Prae left for me.

I have the disturbing thought that it might be something borrowed from Prae’s scandalous wardrobe, but thankfully it turns out to have more substance than that. I’ve only ever seen her in leather, tiny scarves, or armour, and while her lithe body suits the minimalist clothes, I’ll never be comfortable wearing so little.

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