Page 5 of A Sea of Vows and Silence (The Naiads of Juile #3)

Selena

W e dropped the contents of Cebrinne’s waistband into our dug-out pit on the side of the cliffs.

Feather, shell, vial. My breath stunted as she sliced the long stem of her silverspire bloom with the opal knife.

Cebrinne had tended to it since it was a seedling.

Its long, slender leaves seemed too delicate for a flower born in the mountains.

The petals had only just peeled back, opening at the edges, bright and shimmering.

As though someone had shaved a pearl in thin slices from top to base.

Seven years for a glance at a bloom that lasted only moments. She dropped it into the soft flames, and the fire ate it alive, a burning tide consuming it whole until silver dust flecked and sparked into the soft whisper of the wind.

Then she sat beside me in silence.

Our mother used to laugh that we were alternate versions of the same girl.

I suppose the differences between us physically were few.

My crown was wrapped in rich, dark-chocolate waves, whereas Cebrinne’s locks were the black-blue of night.

My eyes shone crystal-blue, while hers took more of a turquoise hue.

Our faces might have been molded from the same frame, cheeks and brows slanted in the same ways.

But there had always been something wild about Cebrinne that my body never claimed. Something untamed and unforgiving.

“Why do you think we needed to burn it?” I asked.

Cebrinne shook her head. “I don’t know, Senna. ”

“The sun burns, not the moon. The moon reflects. Seems more fitting to set a mirror in the rock and reflect the flower to Theia.”

She raised her shoulder. “It certainly does.”

“Why didn’t we think to ask?”

“Ask what?”

I grumbled, though I’m sure she missed the sound under the low roar of the ocean below. “Why we have to burn it.”

“We just do, Senna. No one cares why.”

The moon grew darker as the sun carved around it, its rays too bright to stare at for too long.

I crossed my arms over my legs, hoping if I pressed my mouth shut tightly enough, I’d stifle the annoyance that piqued and flattened every time my sister and I shared a conversation for more than two minutes.

Cebrinne was my favorite person in the world, but favorite people tend to know exactly how to prod the nerves under your skin.

“Except you,” she amended.

A soft crack hissed under the base of the fire. I hadn’t expected the flames to turn silver. They didn’t even appear hot. No heat waves, no smoke. Just light and ash.

“We should have saved a petal,” I said, resting my chin on my knees. “Just one. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

I gestured to the fire with a small spark of impatience. “In case we need to do this again.”

“Do what, orchestrate another eclipse?”

“Yes. What else?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think we’ll do it again.”

“Think it’s too late to try?”

“Try and save a petal?” she mocked. “Yes.” But I’d already peeled my arms from my legs, rolling forward to peer more closely into the flames. Cebrinne thrust an arm across me with a scowl. “Theia curse the waves and water, Senna, if you touch that fire—”

I pulled up short, miffed enough to close my eyes. “I’m only looking, Ceba—”

“Back away from it.”

“I want to see the silverspire.”

“Back away.”

“Let me see—”

We were too old to grapple over each other, the situation too serious.

But some things never die between siblings, and despite our age and severity, we grappled anyway.

I managed to worm my way under her arm, lowering my head to the flames as I searched.

Cebrinne followed me, perhaps out of curiosity.

What was there to find under a bloom turned to dust?

Everything in our little pile had already vanished, swept under the glow of a silver flare. The fire existed from nothing, its blaze bright and shimmering. Dancing. I held a single finger toward the flames, searching for warmth. But there was none of that, either.

“Senna,” my sister warned, watching me dip my hand into the fire to scoop some of it out. It grew and folded like strange liquid silk, whirring over the center of my palm.

The sky collapsed into darkness.

I might have thought it was the eclipse.

But the sun’s rays, even shielded by the moon, should have drifted around it enough to blanket the world in dusky light.

Instead, everything around us snapped out.

Darkness cloaked the sky, sea, and cliffs.

The only light was a silver veil, shining from the edge of the silhouetted moon down to where we sat.

Sleepy dust floated in weightless cinders from the flames, rising through the light and out of view.

My pulse jumped.

“Senna, drop it. Put it down.”

I’d already turned my cupped hand over, emptying the silky flames back to the fire. I had a mind to smother it with loose rock as well. Cebrinne could feign humor about her vows for the rest of her life, but I’d have easily dusted my hands and abandoned the entire venture.

“Who calls me?” the fire asked, its voice feminine and distant. Ethereal but stern. The hairs along my neck raised.

We glanced at each other. Cebrinne swallowed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I do. Cebrinne Euwen Naeva Evanthe of Cypria.” She waited for the fire to respond while I sat rigidly on the rocks.

All sound had flickered out with the world, vaporized into the air. The thunder of the waves, the wind’s soft rustle between the bony thorns of heather. We were phantoms in another realm, slipped beyond the reaches of the living.

The fire burned and didn’t say a word.

Cebrinne’s ears held her hair securely from her face, but she adjusted her weight over her knees, tucking the strands back again. “I need to know how to break a blood vow. As a Naiad.”

“You cannot.” The fire glowed as it spoke, then dimmed again.

Cebrinne shook her head. “There has to be a way. A gift to the Fates. An offer, a payment. A sacrifice.”

“Your blood vow is a bargain with Truth,” the fire crackled softly. “Break it, and Truth will claim your life.”

Cebrinne’s expression hardened, though a vacancy stole over her eyes, as though her mind had left me alone on the cliffside. Her mouth thinned. She stared at the fire, resolute, the angle of her shoulders more rigid than they were the moment before.

I leaned toward the flames. “Is there a way Thaan of Safiro can be killed?”

I’d do it. Cebrinne couldn’t. She couldn’t even string the words together.

She had to use alternate versions if she wanted to speak them aloud.

Sentences such as, I will see his end and when he meets his time .

Stabbing him in the heart would stop her own, though I was uncertain that would even kill him. I didn’t even know if he was mortal .

But whatever it was, I’d do it.

Cebrinne glanced over her shoulder at me, blinking moisture from her eyes.

“Thaan of Safiro?” the fire asked. “There is a way.”

I found Cebrinne’s hand and squeezed. She gathered air into her lungs. And refused to exhale. I couldn’t breathe either. We watched the fire, our focus narrowed onto the burning silver.

“You must die first,” it said.