Page 154 of Blackheart

Amzee, Beck, and I stood at the rear of the ship while Ansel carried on with instruction. Every morning for weeks, our small group trained. We never bothered with blades, only honing our Natures. Ansel insisted if I were to be getting off this ship with them, I should at least be able to wield my Nature within reason without becoming sick.

We each practiced forming orbs between our hands, strengthening them until they reached the size of a dinner plate, then shooting them out to sea.

As we faced the ocean, Ansel stood behind us, reminding me to lift my elbows or complaining about Amzee’s improper form, as her orbs often took on the shape of a heart. Ansel insisted that forming them into anything but a sphere was a waste of time and energy on the battlefield, and she needed to break the habit. Once she’d started aiming for circles, they became tube-shaped.

When I pointed out the drooping length of her orb, she was taken aback.

“Well, Elora, yours are too small. Try making them this large and see if they don’t misshape. The weight is heinous, truly.”

She was right. Mine were the smallest out of the three. Any larger than my thumb and they became ovalish.

Amzee threw another red flaming droop out into the ocean as I tossed my petite oval of poison. Meanwhile, Beck hurled a sphere of smoke.

“Oh, that splash was fantastic!” Amzee mused.

“I thought so myself,” Beck bragged.

My orbs needed work, but my stamina was increasing. It took far longer for the sickness to hit, and even longer for me to actually vomit. Ansel tested the limits often, which, as unpleasant as it was, was helpful.

I’d asked to use Singer for the exercises, but Ansel refused. “What if you misplace it?” he’d lectured. “Or if it’s taken? Don’t cheat yourself.”

I had no choice but to accept he was right.

While the training wasn’t enjoyable beyond a few small victories, it became easier with each passing day. It was invigorating to know I had some means of protection. I never wanted to find myself at a Sapphire's feet again, vomiting and helpless.

Outside of training, the most challenging feat was attempting to distance myself from Riven. There were too many lingering eyes on the ship to risk rumors that my marriage was illegitimate. Aside from the occasional glance, it was best I avoided him unless in a group setting. He was busy with planning anyway. For what? I didn’t know.

Even knowing it was best to stay away, I often found myself sneaking into his room when all but the night shift sailors were asleep. Every time, without fail, Riven would be out of bed in an instant, locking the door behind me.

One night, he pressed me against the door as he kissed me, before carrying me to the bed. On another occasion, the waves were so rowdy that he just tossed me onto the mattress before lifting the back of my shirt and biting his way down from my neck.

Every timehe fell asleep holding me, as if I were his to keep.

He always woke first, dressing and disappearing for the day without a sound. We had very few actual conversations, which was probably best for both of us.

Amzee cleared her throat. Everyone was staring at the blob between my hands, waiting for me to toss it.

“This is a bad one,” I admitted, frowning at the wobbly, violet orb. I threw it and it sizzled into the water.

Ansel had his hands in his dark cloak pockets, glancing around.

“We will make landfall early tomorrow. Meet me in the planning room after dinner. Make sure your things are gathered.”

Amzee lit up at the news, while Beck gave a respective nod. I followed suit, trying to remain confident as the reality hit.

We’d be back on Drakington soil in less than a day. A kingdom where I did not have any rights. More so, I was going back into the cage. Voluntarily.

I swallowed. There was a very real possibility of not making it back out.

A gentle zap hit my shoulder, bringing me back to the moment. I snapped my head to Ansel, who had already dismissed the others.

He came closer. Thin, loose strands of his hair billowed in the wind.

“Worst case, we fail,” he said sternly. “Best case, we bring the entire Southern Waywards population back to Castivian.”

I rested my forearms on the edge, admiring the horizon. “Much worse could happen.”

His elbows next to mine, he leaned his tall frame down until our faces were level. “You will make it back home.”