Page 68 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

KASTIAN, PRESENT

“ H e’s in here!” A distant female voice shouts. “Quickly, before someone sees us!”

There’s pounding footsteps, the creak of a door, and then a man swears. “Fuck! Kas? Kas, can you hear me?”

I hear the question, but it slips through my brain like water over sand.

“We're too late!” the woman hisses.

“No, we’re not,” the man replies. “He’s still breathing. Kas, come on, wake up.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” chimes in another man. “If he’s not dead yet, he’s most of the way there. I don’t think ? —”

“Don’t you fucking finish that thought,” the first man snaps. His voice is more familiar than the others, but I can’t place it.

My sluggish brain struggles and fails to give meaning to all the yelling; to connect names to these vaguely familiar voices.

I want to open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m trapped in some strange place between sleeping and waking; between life and death.

It feels as if a thousand tons of water is pressing down on me, and I’m not sure if I’m drowning or burning.

“What the fuck did they do to him?” the familiar man asks.

“Not they, he . My father did this,” the woman says grimly.

Her father did this?…who?

And then, it comes back to me. All at once, I remember where I am— who I am—and the realization causes an avalanche of emotions.

I’m overjoyed and relieved that I now recognize the voices around me. Lyra is back, and she brought Jett with her. The other man must be Connell.

At the same time, all the pain in my body returns at once. It’s as if it was suppressed while I was floating half out of my mind, but now it’s returned with a vengeance.

I don’t care—I can tolerate it for just a bit longer now that help has arrived.

“If Kastian isn’t dead yet, he’s heavily sedated,” Lyra says. “The problem is that those drugs build up, and after a while he’ll be too paralyzed to breathe.”

“You say that like you’ve seen this before,” Jett says dangerously.

“I have,” Lyra replies flatly.

I immediately try to take a deep breath and discover that Lyra is right. I can’t move an inch, not just because of the restraints on my arms and legs, but it’s as if my muscles have fused together. I feel my shallow breathing beneath a chest that refuses to rise, and a fresh wave of panic grips me.

“Someone needs to tell Odessa,” Lyra says.

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not telling Dessa anything until there’s absolutely no choice left.”

If I could, I would shout in agreement. They can’t tell Odessa that I’m dying, because I’m not. I won’t. I’m going to get off this table and go find her.

“We’re there, mate—there is no choice left,” Connell says grimly. “I’m telling you, he’s bloody?—”

“What the fuck did I just say?” Jett barks. “Do not finish that sentence!”

“Stop yelling,” the woman says. “Odessa thinks she’s marrying my father so he’ll set Kastian free, but if he’s already dead, someone needs to stop her.”

A lead weight lands on my already strangled chest. She’s going through with the wedding willingly? For me?

I both love and hate her for that, and I can’t decide which emotion is stronger.

“Go,” Jett says. “We’ll stay here and wake him up.”

Lyra mumbles something I can’t catch, but I hear the door close and assume she's left. A hand lands on my shoulder, and someone leans over me. “Fucking hell,” Jett breathes. “Pull that damn knife out of his arm.”

“You sure? The bleeding might make it worse,” Connell says.

“Just fucking do it! We need to get him up and to a healer.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you, as something of an expert on death myself, he’s not going to recover.”

“Yes, he will. We didn’t survive decades in frozen fucking hell for him to die now.”

I’ve never appreciated Jett more; if only I could make myself sit up and tell him so.

Pain burns in my arm and I feel the blade I didn’t even realize was still there being extracted from my wrist.

“I’m not a good healer,” Jett mutters, “The great fucking irony is, Kastian is the only one I know who can use that kind of magic.”

“This is Hydratta, mate. You can’t swing a dead fish without hitting a healer, but I don’t know how much good it will do.”

“Fine,” Jett barks. His tone keeps rising, clearly growing angrier by the second. I’ve never heard him so upset, not even in prison. “If not a healer, then I’ll find a sorceress or a djinn or…something.” He trails off, grunting with effort as he seems to try to undo the binding around my ankles.

“You’d need more than a djinn for this. You’d need a miracle,” Connell grumbles.

“Then I’ll get a fucking miracle! I am not going to be the one who has to tell Odessa or Daemon that I let Kastian die. It’s not happening.” His voice changes, growing curious, and I get the feeling he’s looking over at Connell. “Wait, you’re immortal. That’s a damn miracle, right?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Jett’s tone is so dangerous that Connell must realize he’s on thin ice. He answers frankly, without any of his usual idiotic comments. “I’m immortal because I’m cursed to captain The Sea Witch .”

“Sounds great!” Jett yells in exasperation. “How do we get another curse?”

If I could, I would go stiff. A curse doesn’t sound ideal, but then again, I know there aren’t a lot of options. I’m weak from blood loss and lack of food and water. That burning sedative has been building up for days, and I can tell I’m not breathing normally.

“It’s not that simple, mate,” Connell says.

“Can it be done or not?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Your friend might not thank you if he wakes up cursed. It’s not pleasant. I’m not even sure I’m really alive.”

“You look pretty fucking alive to me!” Jett nearly yells. “He can be pissed at me later once he’s alive again. How do you curse him?”

Connell doesn’t answer Jett. Instead, his voice grows louder, and I can feel him leaning over me. “Hey, can you hear me, mate?”

He pauses like he’s expecting me to answer him. My frustration rises, if I could just open my mouth… My entire body feels heavy and useless, and I can’t force my lips to move.

Like he can read my mind, Jett cuts in. “Kas, if you’re in there, blink.” His palm slaps my cheek—a gentle one, by his standards—and I work every last ounce of will to drag my eyelids up and down.

Jett’s exhale stutters, almost a laugh, but it’s broken at the edges. “He heard me!”

“That’s something, at least,” Connell mutters, sounding dubious. “I don’t feel right trapping a man into this without even asking.”

“Now you’re growing a conscience?” Jett asks, incredulous. “What about not feeling right about letting him die?”

“Alright, alright,” Connell grumbles, leaning close to me again. “Do you want to live? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

I’m surprised to find that I have to think about that for a second.

Of course I want to live, but not like this.

The worst hell I can think of would be to not die, and just be trapped like this; aware, but unable to move or speak.

Unable to do anything while Magnus keeps stabbing me and holds Odessa prisoner.

If I’m trapped like this for the rest of time, it would be a far worse curse than anything Connell could put on me. Nothing could be worse than this. If I’m doomed to be trapped on this table, just waiting to die, I’d rather end it now.

“Blink!” Jett shouts near my ear. He reaches out and lifts one of my eyelids for me, and I get a blurry glimpse of his face and the ceiling beyond before he drops it closed again. “Come on, Kas. Dessa is here somewhere, and she needs you.”

I gather far more strength than should be necessary and focus on opening my eyes again, just for a second. It takes an enormous effort, but my eyes finally flutter open.

I hope it’s enough, and it must be, because Connell continues.

“Alright, listen carefully because once it’s done there’s no going back.

The Sea Witch is no ordinary ship. As long as she sails, she needs a captain, and that captain can’t leave his post until another one is chosen.

Not even death will end your service to the ship.

Once you take command, the ship will be your entire life, and you must sail at least six months of every year until the end of time or another captain takes your place.

This has to be your choice. I can’t force it, but if you’re willing, the ship will do the rest.”

He lets his words hang heavy in the air.

I feel like there must be more to this—there must be a reason that Connell is the way he is, and why he calls his immortality a curse.

Maybe it’s just that being trapped eats away at you, and leaves you changed.

Maybe it will be like Dyaspora, where hopelessness bleeds you dry, chipping away piece by piece, until you’re not the same man who first arrived.

There’s a moment where I see a vision of myself, drained and haggard, eyes gone white with salt, standing on the deck of a ship made of bones and teeth.

I see the horizon, always just out of reach, eternity strung out like a noose.

I see myself returning, year after year, to a world that forgot my name.

But then I see Dessa, violet eyes furious and alive. I see her laugh, and I know that I’ll never get enough of that sound, no matter how many centuries I serve. I see her future—a future without me, maybe, but one where she’s free.

If I have to become something monstrous to save her, then I’ll do it. I die for her a thousand times over, so what’s different about living for her?

Before I even have the chance to blink my acceptance, I feel something shift.

A cold wind seems to pass over me, raising every hair on my body. My heart beat turns erratic, thundering faster and faster until it finally stops. A long beat passes where my pulse doesn’t pound, but my chest doesn’t feel empty. The bond is still there, pulsing and alive.

My heart starts again, a single pulse, and I gasp and open my eyes.