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)
Personally, I’m a fan of wholesale slaughter when something’s taken from me.
Then why didn’t you kill Evelyn and Bowen?
Again, I ignore the voice inside me. Murdering Evelyn might be something my mother would have done, but my feelings for Evelyn are far too complicated to end in her death. The world would be colder without her in it, running around and causing chaos.
Besides, if she honestly tried to kill me, things might have played out differently, but she was only ever defending herself. I’m horribly, unforgivably sentimental when it comes to that woman. It’s the only explanation I have for leaving Bowen alive, too. It would have made her sad to see him dead.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never worried about things like this before. There may have been people I cared about on a superficial level, but not enough to change the way that I acted. Even before Evelyn stole from me, there was only the slightest softening in her direction. I’d barely allowed myself to think about what a future with her might hold, let alone do anything to act on it. But . . . I cared enough to give her a chance to run, to avoid the bloodshed that would result in my mother finding a human witch in my bed.
Maybe it’s Threshold itself causing this uncomfortable change in me. Maybe the very air and water and blood of its occupants are magical in a merciful kind of way. I examine that concept from every angle as we sail away from Viedna. I very carefully don’t allow myself to look at the shrinking island being swallowed by the endless blue sky and sea as morning takes a proper hold of the world. No matter that I’d like to blame my actions on environmental magic shifting a centuries-long habit, it’s an impossible concept to even entertain. There’s no way there’s any truth to that theory. If there was, then the Cŵn Annwn would be out of jobs.
Maybe you’re different because you’re away from your mother’s influence.
Unease filters through me. I can’t afford to be soft. I may not be under my mother’s thumb currently, but I am going back home. Once there, I will have to become the heir she formed me into. If she senses so much as a hint of softness, she won’t hesitate to carve it out of me, bit by bloody bit.
To distract myself from the memories threatening to take hold, I focus on the selkie. She moves around the boat, adjusting the sail with an ease of someone who’s done this many times before. Considering she told me that selkies don’t use boats or ships, it’s enough to make me wonder how she learned it.
“You’re staring.” Maeve speaks without looking at me.
“You’re the most interesting thing I have to look at.” I’m sure as fuck not going to look at the sea. I’d prefer to pretend it doesn’t exist at all, that we’re floating along on air currents instead of ones made of water. I drag in a ragged breath. Maeve. Focus on Maeve. “You might as well get used to it.”
She tenses. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not. Since I’m pretty sure you don’t actually have a sense of humor, you must be serious. Look around you, Lizzie. Sun and sky and sea are all far more interesting to look at.”
She’s wrong. They’re not interesting—they’re terrifying. An endless horizon is an invitation for oblivion, and I enjoy life too much to allow the damned sea to take me. More than that, she is more interesting to look at, even if I wasn’t afraid of the water. The weight that pulls her shoulders down is nowhere in evidence. For the first time since meeting her, she seems fully alive.
She’s resplendent.
chapter 8
Maeve
I didn’t realize how much the crew of the Audacity shielded me until there’s no one around except Lizzie. No one to distract me from her viciously good looks. No one to dampen her intense energy. She’s so quiet. On a crowded ship, it was easy to convince myself that I wasn’t aware of her presence. It wasn’t true, but I had the comforting lie.
Within the first twelve hours on the tiny boat, I’m jumping every time she shifts. I try to quell the reaction, but it’s impossible. Her presence is just so intense, even when she’s just sitting there. And it just gets worse as the hours tick by. I try to distract myself with focusing on sailing, but things are going smoothly. The wind sends us skimming along the surface of the waves. The sun is bright and warm, a pleasant weight against my skin. The world sprawls out before the boat, rife with possibilities. If I was by myself, I might even be enjoying the experience.