Page 31 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

ODESSA, PRESENT

I wake up to the familiar feeling of the ground rocking beneath my feet and immediately know I’m on a ship.

I slowly push myself upright, wincing as I press a trembling hand to my pounding head.

The world around me is a blur of shadow, the kind of darkness that swallows everything whole.

I squint, but the inky blackness offers no hint of where I am.

A chilling dread crashes over me, sending my rational mind into a frenzied spiral.

For years I’ve longed to return to the ocean; I just never envisioned it quite like this.

“Stop it,” I command myself. “There’s no point being afraid. Do something.”

The words sound brave, but in reality do very little to calm my racing heart or drown out the throbbing in my head.

I take a few deep breaths, then force myself to stand up.

I know I’m in a cell, made from iron bars so old that I can smell the rust even over every other putrid stench; piss, mold, and something acrid that might have once been food or perhaps a dead rat left too long to rot.

I crawl across the disgusting ground, feeling along the walls with my hands. It’s laughably tiny: a cube barely big enough for me to lie down—not that I would ever want to lie down on the slick floorboards.

I find the door to the cell and feel along it until I reach the lock. I’m unsurprised to discover that no amount of shaking will open the door, and I can’t even think about picking the lock in this darkness. My shoulders slump in defeat.

I’ll have to wait for someone to come down here to check on me. They’ll have to, unless they’re planning to starve me, which isn’t a possibility that I want to dwell on. If Captain Connell wanted to kill me, he could have done it on the train…right?

I fumble in the dark for the edge of my long skirt and tear it off at the knees, laying the fabric down on the ground to put a barrier between me and the filthy floor, and sit down to wait.

This is undoubtedly and by far the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Yet, none of it feels real, which I think must be a sign that I’m in shock—or that the blow to my head rattled my brain.

I try to force my sluggish mind to focus despite my splitting headache.

Captain James Connell …I know I’ve heard that name before, but where? I might think it was years ago aboard The Adella , but that was far longer ago than any human lifespan.

Then again, the captain might look human but undoubtedly is not.

I know I stabbed him. I might have stabbed him in the stomach instead of the heart, but he still should have died—or, at least, the wound should have slowed him down. What kind of creature looks human but heals instantly? Not even the Fae heal so fast, as if by magic.

Most magical creatures are hard to kill, but there are ways. A wound to the heart will kill almost anything, as will fire, beheading, and drowning. The Fae can live for hundreds—if not thousands—of years, but they still need beating hearts and air in their lungs.

I lean my head back against the iron bars and let out a soft moan of mingled pain and frustration.

It was so incredibly stupid of me to go off on my own for no better reason than to avoid looking Kastian in the eye. Now, I would trade practically anything to go back and do that moment over.

But of course, as I’ve often thought lately, there are only so many second chances, and I’ve already used mine up.

A fter what I think must be hours, my stomach starts to growl.

An hour after that, the growling turns to shooting pain.

Just when I’m growing so hungry that I’m contemplating gnawing on my leather shoes, I hear a loud creak of hinges and a shaft of light streams down the stairs.

Seconds later, the glow of a lantern and a pair of feet come into view.

I hear the jingle of keys with every step, and my already racing heart beats double time.

This is my chance.

I jump to my feet and rush to the bars of my cell, eagerly waiting for whichever pirate has come to bring me my supper. I’m sure he’ll have cotton in his ears like Captain Connell, but perhaps if I shout I can still bewitch him. It’s my only chance.

An enormous wave of disappointment crashes over me when the figure reaches the bottom of the stairs and raises their lantern to illuminate their face.

It’s a girl—or, a woman, I suppose. I can’t tell in the dim light how old she is or whether she’s Fae or human.

Regardless, her presence makes my life harder.

The siren song isn’t a danger to women. It only affects men because its purpose is finding fathers for our children. Apparently, Captain Connell knows more about sirens than the average man, which doesn’t bode well for me.

As the girl walks closer, I see that she’s probably Fae, though it’s still hard to tell with her dishwater-blonde hair covering her ears and a layer of dirt and grime coating her unsmiling face.

She’s tall for a woman and bone thin. Her maroon striped dress is torn in some places and mended in others, and there’s soot and dirt on her apron.

She holds a full plate of food and a lantern in one hand, and in the other she brandishes a pistol that looks slightly too large for her to hold comfortably.

“Where are we going?” I ask, without bothering to say hello.

“Don’t talk to me,” the girl hisses, her voice quavering slightly.

“I can’t influence you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The girl says nothing as she steps up to the door to my cell. She puts the lantern down and shuffles the plate in her hands to reach for the keys on her belt without lowering her pistol.

My gaze locks on the keyring, and I lick my dry lips.

“Step back,” the girl says, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m going to open the door and put the plate down. Don’t even think about trying to get past me or I’ll shoot you.”

I appraise her carefully.

From the way she’s dressed, I think she must be a servant—and likely not a very well-paid one.

There aren’t many women on ships, so either she was incredibly desperate for a job or her husband or lover is among the crew.

Either way, I doubt she’s familiar with how to shoot a pistol.

Guns are human inventions and uncommon in Ellender—most Fae wouldn’t have ever even seen one.

“You don’t know how to shoot that, do you?” I ask.

“I do,” she says, the lie clear in her voice.

I roll my eyes. “Put that down. You’re more likely to blow your own hand off than successfully shoot me.”

The girl looks warily at the pistol, then back to me. “But then you’ll run at me the moment I open the door.”

“I promise that I won’t, just tell me where we’re going.”

She gives the pistol another suspicious glance before placing it on the floor. “Solistine.”

I raise my eyebrows. Why on earth would we be going there?

The desert kingdom is on the other side of the continent, and we’d have to sail all the way around Hydratta to reach it. “That’s likely to take over a week.”

The girl shakes her head. “Not the way Captain Connell sails.”

I scoff. “He could be the best captain in the world and still not be able to affect the weather.”

“Shows what you know,” she says snidely. “Captain Connell is the only man in Ellender able to sail through the Strait of Scylla.”

My eyebrows raise and my mouth falls open. “You cannot be serious. That’s a death sentence.”

“Shut up!” She hisses, looking alarmed.

I scowl. Sailors are superstitious by nature, but I’m not jinxing them by speaking the obvious truth.

Years ago, I recall hearing my father and Mercer talking about the Strait of Scylla.

The passage is faster than any other route between Hydratta and the mainland, but no one dares to sail there since it’s full of carnivorous sea monsters.

“How much longer until we reach the strait?” I demand. “How long have we been sailing? How?—”

I break off as a sudden loud bang rattles the deck above us. Both the girl and I look up in unison, startled, as the muffled shouting grows louder.

My stomach does an anxious flip. What if we’re already in the middle of the Strait of Scylla and the ship is being attacked?

The captain might not be able to die, but he’s going to get the rest of us killed.

Well, I won’t die.

Even if this ship sank, the moment I touched the ocean I would transform into my other form.

If that happens, I might prefer to die.

“You jinxed us,” the girl hisses angrily at me. She drops the plate of food on the ground outside the cell and turns on her heel to run back up the stairs.

Before she can make it ten steps, the door at the top of the stairs opens again with another loud creak, bringing with it the unmistakable sounds of chaos from above.

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and my breath catches, before I hear the unmistakable sound of a familiar voice. “Dessa?”

“Over here!” I shout, confusion and relief washing over me.

Jett reaches the bottom of the stairs and runs toward me, boots slipping slightly on the filthy floor.

The servant girl’s face flushes with panic; her eyes dart between us and the stairs like she’s weighing how fast she could make it past Jett and whether she’d survive.

Clearly deciding to risk it, she darts forward and shoves Jett hard in the shoulder and bolts for the stairs.

“Stop her!” I yell. “She has the key!”

He changes direction mid-motion and lunges for the girl. She shrieks as he knocks her to the ground and grapples for the keys at her belt.

“Just take them!” the girl yells. “Let me go!”

Jett snatches the keys from her and jumps up, not sparing a single backward glance as he charges toward me. “Alright in there, Dessa?”

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” I nearly wail, my grip on the bars the only thing keeping me upright.

“Long story,” he gasps, breathless, his eyes scanning me for signs of injury. “I’ll tell you once we’re safe. Are you okay?”

“More or less.”

“Thank the fucking gods,” he breathes, relief obvious on his face.

With trembling hands, he fumbles through several keys, each failed attempt heightening the tension until finally, the right one clicks. The lock releases, and I stagger out of the cell, tears streaming down my face as I fling myself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Jett holds me tight, his hand firm on my back. “Don’t celebrate yet,” he warns, his voice steely. “We still have to get off this godsdamn ship.”

As if on cue, another crash sounds up above, and I look toward the stairs, suddenly realizing that it’s odd none of the pirates have rushed down here to stop Jett from reaching me. Whatever is happening above deck must be taking all their focus. “What’s happening up there?”

“Kastian,” Jett says, as if that’s the only explanation necessary.

My eyes widen, and my heart skips a beat. I struggle to find words, and my voice comes out hoarse and breathless. “Oh…he’s here too?”

Jett rolls his eyes, clearly not fooled by my attempt at nonchalance. “Just come on. I can’t stay down here a second longer; it smells like shit.”

I laugh slightly hysterically, and out of instinct, I reach for my long skirt to lift it as we dash toward the stairs. Only then do I remember that my dress is torn, leaving my knees exposed.

I suppose that’s the least of my concerns right now.

Jett ushers me up the slick, wet stairs, and we emerge onto the top deck.

I blink rapidly, the low evening light feeling surprisingly bright after the darkness below. I inhale a huge gulp of fresh air, but there’s no time to savor it.

All around us is chaos; sailors run this way and that, men scream, and barrels and crates slide across the deck as the ship rocks back and forth as if in a storm.

“Watch out!” Jett shouts, pulling me back into the stairwell just as a massive wave crashes over the deck. Salty droplets spray my face and drench my front, but I’m lucky to have escaped the worst of it.

The crew is not so lucky.

Pirates scream as many sweep overboard into the churning sea. Others cling to the masts and walls to avoid falling.

I whirl around, bewildered by the wild, frothy waves crashing against the ship despite the clear evening sky above.

Then, all at once, I understand.

On the other end of the ship, Kastian stands firmly at the center of the deck, surrounded by the remaining pirates as they close in around him.

Blood coats his tattooed arms and one side of his face, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he cuts into each pirate almost methodically, sending them crumpling to the ground one by one.

Then, like he can feel me looking, he turns and our eyes meet across the deck. My heart races, constricting my chest as if it’s caught in a vice. My breathing turns shallow, and in that moment two things become absolutely clear:

This is the Kastian I remember—the one I fell in love with a hundred years ago.

And it’s too late to save us. We’re already doomed.