Page 88 of Fate Promised

“After taking Hoyt’s grimoire,” Juri said.

Fergal lurched to his feet, wincing. “Then we have no time. He could get more of the Dark Cabal and return. Let me gather my remaining magic together. We need to destroy the orb.”

Triska stepped forward, letting Juri’s arm fall to his side. “Use your remaining magic to set up a dampening spell so they can’t portal back here.” She turned her head to view the cliffs. “I’ll take care of the orb.”

“You need my magic for the orb.” Fergal sagged, and Juri reached forward to steady him.

Triska shook her head, and Juri’s blood froze. He knew what she wanted to do. “I’m going to enter the water. I won’t need your help because I’ll be able to get close enough.”

“No,” Juri said.

Rain slashed down at them. Triska’s blue eyes flashed. She pointed at the water. “Do you want the island to explode? To destroy Ryba? Maybe kill everyone we love?”

His chest throbbed like his heart was working too hard. “I can’t lose you.”

“This is my choice.” She swallowed hard, her graceful neck flexing. “When I turn into a selkie, I won’t remember what’s going on. I need you to use our bond and help me remember. Focus for me. Show me what I need to do. Use the telepathy you use with Hans.”

It was like a dagger driving deep into his chest. Time seemed to stand still. Time seemed to race forward.

Biting her lip, she drew back. “It’s our only chance.”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her close, he brought his lips to her ear. “Come back to me.”

Putting her hand to his cheek and looking into his eyes for a long moment, she said nothing. Then she turned, flung off her smock, and pulled out her pelt.

“Triska!”

But she’d run for the cliff edge. As she leaped off it, her form changed. He raced after her, and when he reached the edge, he caught the brief splash of a brown flipper sliding below the water.

No! He crouched to jump after her.

A hand landed on his shoulder and reeled him back. He snarled, his vision crimson. Hans pulled him backward, forcing him to step away from the edge. “She’s saving us. Let her. Do what she said and help her.”

Juri’s chest heaved. Over the past month, he’d felt her in his chest. In their bond. Sometimes clearly, sometimes only a whisper, but he’d known she was there. It was a tether—one he didn’t want her to sever. And right now, the sense of her … presence … was fading. He fisted the ring and let it bite into his palm.

He had to make her remember.

37

The tension she’d lived with for ages melted away. She twirled underwater, the surface and the dark blue water blurring into one. Bubbles floated past her whiskers, tickling them, and she opened her mouth in a grin.

A fish flashed past, and she snapped at it. It darted away, and with a swish of her tail, she raced and caught up to it. Heavens above she was fast. This was where she belonged, in the cocoon of the ocean, its lapping current humming in her ears, its slick coolness sliding across her pelt.

She dove, circling slowly. A school of fish moved to the southeast, their motion lapping small whirls across her whiskers and making them tingle. Time to chase them.

She glided south, but as she did, warmth trickled through her chest. Triska halted and listened. A man … a vulk … spoke to her, his words floating through the water. His voice a low rumbling purr. That was a pleasant sound.

There was … something she was supposed to do.

She flipped up to the surface and when her head broke free she bobbed vertically, floating along the waves. Mist licked over the ocean, and her nose twitched. This was a strange mist with an odd tang to it. She didn’t like it.

A high cliff loomed before her, and on its edge stood a vulk. He peered at the waves, but he didn’t see her. Her chest throbbed. She wanted to get back onto shore and let him touch her. For a few long moments, she bobbed.

No.

She was wild, like the ocean around her. Vulk and their ilk weren’t for her. She turned away from the island.

With several long, fluid strokes, she headed toward the open ocean. This time of year, she needed to head to southern climes where the sea wouldn’t frost over with ice. Or she could dive deep and find the trail to her home. The one with secret air pockets far beneath the waves only her kind knew about.

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