Page 32 of Fate Promised

Fergal’s lips tightened. “At the next full moon, the rune will fade away if you don’t make a choice, but keep it safe until then.” A chill slid down Triska’s back. She remembered the sharp pain when Hoyt shot magic at the rune. It felt like he’d stabbed her in the chest.

Juri locked eyes with Triska. “So, you’re saying I should guard Triska day … and night?”

Fergal cackled again. “Her magic works at night. She can guard you.”

He remained staring at her, his golden eyes darkening. “Good,” he said. “I’ll need a thorough watching over.”

Triska’s lips parted a fraction, and her skin tingled as if longing to be touched. Another splash, this time closer.

They both leaped to the side of the deck. She leaned forward, trying to see more of the water. She bumped him with her shoulder. “Maybe there’s a vedogon down there?”

He groaned. “Oh, come on. They exist. You know they exist.”

Triska laughed. As a kid, Juri insisted that the rumors of a fish as large as a whale with huge spikes on its back were real, not a yarn made up by sailors. “Right. Sure, they do. Teeth as long as your arm. Poisonous spines along their back. When are you going to admit you made that up?”

“When I catch one, I’ll make sure you’re the first one I show.”

“Good.”

He nudged her back with his shoulder. “I’ve tracked every kind of beast in Ulterra. I’ll find it.”

“You have? Is that something the vulk do?”

“All vulk like to hunt, but I’m a tracker. The only one in the pack.”

She stared at him as the fog thickened around them the closer they got to the island. A warm fog, like a hot breath. “What does it mean to be a tracker?”

“My senses are more attuned than other vulk, and I enjoy hunting things. The more challenging, the better. When I set my sights on something, I don’t give up until I get it.”

She inhaled sharply, and her heart rate sped up. His face was inches from hers. Every time he was this close, and she could study his face was a reward. A prize. She’d spent years yearning to know what he looked like as a vulk. Tried to draw him in strong, bold lines. Now she could look at him all she liked.

Her chest warmed the longer she gazed at him.

He snagged his arm around her waist and drew her close again. The same heat that sparked between them earlier stirred, charging the surrounding air. Warmth spread through her limbs, followed by a kick of desire. Triska licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“All right, you two, stop doing the bear. We have more to discuss,” Fergal said.

Triska laughed again. “Doing the bear? No one’s said that in ages.” It was an old term for courtship when two lovers frequently hugged.

She shook her head and walked back to the helm, Juri behind her. The boat rolled over a wave, and he skidded, his claws scratching on the wood deck. “Why do I look like a drunken idiot when I try to walk on this thing, and you stroll across it like you’re dancing?”

She turned to him and tossed her head. “I have a natural athleticism you don’t have.”

“Is that right?” His gaze heated again. “Care to show me some other moves?”

She raised a brow. “Maybe later.”

The side of his mouth curled up as he reached Fergal. “Now, tell me about the scrying bowl—”

A giant mass sprang from the water.

Juri snarled and grabbed her, pulling her backward as a sea serpent with blue, glittering scales crashed into the boat’s starboard side.

The serpent didn’t seem to notice them as it wrapped itself around the bow of the boat, its long body easily twining around it. Like a dragon, layers of horns rimmed the crown of its head and its jowls, and it had four squat limbs, fat and stocky. It opened its mouth, revealing double rows of sharp teeth, and lunged forward, biting the boat.

For a moment, no one moved. It was like watching some kind of bizarre puppy gnawing a bone. A puppy twice the size of their boat.

The boat keeled to the right as the—dragon? Serpent?—shifted its weight.

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