Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
A flash of red in the corner of my eye draws my attention despite myself. The selkie watches us, her expression carefully blank. The urge to reach out and touch her with my magic is nearly overwhelming. I’ve very carefully not thought about what her vibrance would taste like, have kept myself well fed to avoid any . . . temptations.
I force myself to refocus on the port taking shape in front of us. Some of the islands in Threshold are so wildly different as to be on another planet. Viedna isn’t one of those. The closer we get, the more the rocks and trees and mood remind me of western Ireland. Though the houses up on the little hill just inland from the bay are different. They are domed, with bright geometric patterns on the outside that give me an instant headache. I’m not sure how I missed them before. They’re an eyesore to be certain.
Next to me, Evelyn shivers and pulls her coat tighter around her. “I definitely prefer the northern islands. This cold cuts right down to my bones.”
The cold doesn’t bother me the way it does her. I glance around to find most of the crew burrowing into heavy coats and cloaks. There are exceptions—Nox, for one, seems completely unbothered. And . . . the selkie. She’s in a sleeveless white dress that should make her look like a virgin sacrifice; that much white just begs for the red spill of someone’s lifeblood. She doesn’t so much as shiver in the face of the wind whipping about. Interesting.
“What do you know about Viedna?” I find myself asking.
Evelyn gives me a sharp glance but doesn’t comment on the fact that I’ve never expressed interest in any of our stops before. She worries her bottom lip. “They’re pretty neutral when it comes to the Cŵn Annwn. The town leader is a big fan because of the steady trade they bring, and he does a lot of pandering to the Council. It means their ships pass through pretty regularly. Maeve’s family has owned a tavern there for a few generations, long enough to be a town staple. Anyone who comes through Viedna stops by for a drink, which makes her an invaluable asset. I’m sure Nox has mentioned that last bit a time or three.”
I’ve sailed with two crews since arriving in Threshold, and both treat ports as a vacation just for them. When my family has cause for celebration, things get . . . messy. But I’ve never witnessed revelry like sailors drinking to fate and fortune and a thousand other toasts to greater powers, some familiar to me and many more not. After my first experience witnessing Eyal weeping his eyes out, so deep in his cups I could barely make out his words as he confessed something to me with the utmost seriousness only the drunk and dying seem to manage, I chose not to accompany the crew on their tavern escapades.
“I see,” I finally say. Despite my best intentions, my gaze slides to Maeve again. She hasn’t been gone from home for long, but there’s still that strange blankness on her expression. She stares down the approaching village as if it’s a death sentence with her name on it.
“Lizzie.” Evelyn is painfully serious. “Leave her alone. Find another way to get to the Hag. She’s been through enough.”
“I’m surprised that, bleeding heart that you’ve become, you don’t want me to help her reclaim her pelt.”
Something like guilt blossoms in Evelyn’s green eyes. “The rebellion needs her here.”
She has truly bought into all the rebellion shit. I’ve been aware of it, of course, but every time she says something like this, it spins me for another loop. I sneer. “Worry about yourself, Evelyn. I’m not the one planning to face down the entirety of the military force that patrols this world. That’s you.” And I’m not worried about her. I certainly haven’t considered restricting her blood flow until she passes out and then hauling her to the nearest portal that seems relatively harmless to save her from what feels like an inevitable death.
I’m a member of the Bianchi family. I know what a losing fight looks like. One of the first things my mother ever taught me was not to step onto a battlefield unless I knew I could win. With my superior speed and strength, not to mention my magic, there are few fights I stand to lose.
But the one Evelyn and Nox and the others seem determined to have?
It’s impossible. No one but the Council even knows how many Cŵn Annwn crews are active. Evelyn, Nox, and this rebellion are playing a game of whack-a-mole against an enemy who’s more powerful, more numerous, and not afraid to raze entire cities to the ground.
Not that I have empirical proof on the last point. I’ve simply seen how they conduct business, and it’s a logical jump to make. The only reason the rebellion has functioned for so long is because the Cŵn Annwn don’t know they exist. The moment that changes, it’s all over.