Page 55 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)

I can’t stop myself from glancing again at Dhara. Her empty eyes appear to be gazing at something far beyond the retreating longboat. She stares unseeingly all the way out to the midnight horizon, and perhaps even beyond that.

Seven blazing arrows fill the night sky like shooting stars.

One is fired from each of Reed’s crew members. They arch gracefully through the night, with one chasing after the next before plunging down into their wooden target.

Captain Namak’s boat burns brilliantly in varying shades of green while it drifts deeper into the bay. Waves sweep out in rapid succession, lulling the burning pyre into their eternal embrace.

The sea is eager, like a greedy miser, to call in on its returned soul.

Half an hour later, and I’m hiking back up the last few meters of the rocky cliffside far above that still-burning longboat.

My feet might as well be lead weights. I've been working hard not to allow myself to linger on that fiery vessel below. I find that each time my thoughts move in that direction, I’m filled with an overwhelming and completely irrational guilt.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that I never spoke more than a handful of words to the eastern captain. Maybe it’s some sort of survivor's guilt, having passed the last trial. Maybe it stems from watching the grief pass over Reed's crew, which I then found mirrored in the faces of my own.

Or maybe I feel terrible for not feeling that terrible over his death.

I honestly don’t have the energy to unravel my own tedious complexity tonight. So I focus on shoving my iniquity down and away to be inspected at a later time until a piercing cry from below shatters my glacial composure.

Grabbing one of the small knives burdening my hips, my instincts pull me quickly towards the pathway's edge. I crane my neck out over the grassy bluffs and begin scanning the black beach for any signs of danger, only to discover Dhara's crumpled form down along the shoreline.

Blowing out a short curse, my shoulders immediately loosened in relief. I re-sling my weapon before shaking my head in annoyance at the eastern captain’s ongoing display.

Girl’s lost her damn mind.

Dhara has very evidently broken out of her prior stupor. With narrowed eyes, I watch the eastern captain claw at the dark sand below while screaming every last remaining breath out of her lungs. She then begins cursing both the sea and sky like a woman possessed.

The abnormal performance is, admittedly, morbidly transfixing.

Tide Raiders are expected to keep their emotions at bay no matter what. Captain’s are required to anchor them so far down inside that not even a glimmer of sentiment should be hinted at upon the surface.

A strange coldness blooms inside of me upon witnessing her keening. One that does not belong to my affinity. I find myself hesitating, my thumbs squeezed inside the vices of my hands.

The rest of my crew were made to leave before the captains gave their final respects, so there’s no one to urge me onward.

I’m not entirely sure what it is that holds me down to the spot now.

Perhaps it's just the sheer misery in Dhara's cry. Or possibly the fact that she’s completely alone in a state of such despair, her own crew having been made to leave with the others.

Regardless, I’m now frozen in queer contemplation while the captain of the east spews her misery to the stars and tides. I feel trapped between minding my own business and overstepping The Order’s firm boundaries.

I’m stuck inside this internal state of deliberation as a faint outline materializes along the bay's waterline, and observe as it crouches down next to Dhara’s trembling body.

I blink once in disbelief, my mouth opening slightly.

It’s been too long of a day for this to be anything more than my imagination. Yet the longer I stare, the more solid the form becomes. The outline radiates an almost imperceptible hue of emerald green. When it finally stands next to Dhara's crumpled body, I'm sure I'm dreaming.

It’s Reed .

Or rather, a shadow of Reed. A glowing sort of shadow.

A shade .

The foreign word is plucked from someplace locked behind a wall of ice. As absolutely bizarre and impossible as it seems, I’m instantly certain that is precisely what I’m viewing.

With a shaky exhale, I study the apparition of Captain Namak moving in the ocean wind, turning his semi-corporeal head. His ghostly gaze reaches the summit of the cliffs before scanning up the rockside. My pulse thunders wildly in my ears as his spectral eyes fix themselves on me .

Reed's silhouette slowly extends his chin upwards before lifting a hand in a silent gesture of acknowledgment. Air catches inside my throat, and I fervently attempt to rub away the fabrication with the heel of my hands. Reopening my eyes proves my efforts to be futile, and I’m left to gape, completely confounded.

A bitter gale blows white tendrils through my eyeline while I watch Reed sign an old sort of gesture to me.

It’s one I’m sure I’ve never seen before, and yet somehow I know it.

His arms bring themselves to cross at the wrists before his chest while his palms open in my direction, and he then makes a very low and deliberate bow.

It's an unquestionable sign of deeply pious regard. An extremely old and highly unusual one at that. Even the wintry winds pause their ancient howling to watch in astonishment.

Captain Namak’s spirit then bends down to press a firm kiss upon his girlfriend's forehead.

His apparitional fingers appear to stroke back the unraveled curls framing Dhara's hunched-over form until, at last, her shuddering sobs slowly subside.

As she trembles, Reed's hand gently rests on her back in comfort.

Finally, Dhara gathers herself from the sands, her cries replaced by quiet suffering.

Standing once more beside his beloved girlfriend, Reed gives her one last kiss, which he gently presses against her lips. Dhara makes no sign of sensing his presence other than brushing a finger idly over her mouth while staring blankly towards the flame-dwindling longboat .

Captain Namak pivots before striding out to his watery grave with a sense of immense purpose. It appears as if he’s simply reporting for his next duties. I can't help but think that maybe he is.

The scene leaves my perception of reality muddled.

Without thinking about what I’m doing, I take a careless, blind step forward. I’m too engrossed in the vision that my undoubtedly damaged brain has conjured up to realize my idiotic mistake.

I’ve taken a step too far.

Almost instantaneously, my heel slides on the cliff’s craggy edge, throwing my balance to the wind. A rendering of my soon-to-be-broken body flashes through my head so vividly that screaming isn’t even an option.

But in the next instant, I’m caught on something.

No—not caught—I’m yanked . Yanked backward by the neck of my uniform. The fisted hand at my nape grips me with an iron hold, dragging me to the safety of the weather-beaten trail.

A strangled sort of sound escapes my lips, but I’m otherwise breathless upon release, struggling to even swallow. I was certain I was dead. I should currently be dead . Why am I not dead?

The image of my broken, blood-splattered body shrouds all other thoughts.

I should be dead, but I’m not because—looking up to view my very forceful rescuer, I tense.

A pair of murderous ashen eyes glare back down at me. They hold such an overwhelming intensity that it's difficult for me to do anything other than stare like some petrified level-one.

“You think you could at least try not to get yourself killed for five fucking seconds?” Agni seethes down at me, the ridiculous muscles in his crossed arms bulging threateningly.

His gaze travels over my person with a searching quality, like he’s taking stock of something.

"Honestly, it’s a godsdamned wonder you’ve made it this long—you’re practically suicidal. ”

Agni’s visceral anger is like having a bucket of water thrown on me in bed.

It both wakes me up and turns my already dark mood pitch black.

“Oh well, pardon me, your highness.” My lip curls in aggravation. “But I don’t recall actually ever asking for your help.”

"Spare me.” He scoffs. “You’d be accompanying Captain Namak in his retreat down to the Netherdepths right now if I hadn’t grabbed you.” Agni's reddened hand rolls his jaw, while amber eyes move up and down over my person again.

I scowl, my fisted fingers itching for the comfort of a blade. “You can save yourself the trouble of your whole ‘hostile hero’ act for your fan club, Agni. I believe I saw several of them pretending to be lost down near the wharf if you find yourself in the mood to start handing out autographs.”

It was aimed as a taunt, but it’s also the truth.

His admirers have somehow managed to grow in numbers over the months.

There are now an obscene number of female and even a few male raiders whose sole purpose appears to be to monitor Captain Agni and his crew's movements.

They wait for him between classes or even after meal times, throwing themselves into ‘chance’ encounters with the swaggering little sadist and his equally arrogant hounds.

Letters are left on his table before dinner, and countless notes are passed over to their group during lectures.

Kleio, Herse, and I even caught a handful of level-seven’s blatantly camped out near the boneyard a week or so ago.

Agni and his crew have taken to using a few of the old outdoor rings near the ancient ship wreckage as their own personal training space.

Shirtless.

Absolutely shameless. Do try not to choke on your own drool, ladies. Herse had called over to those level-seven’s rather loudly when we’d passed them and their very obvious fixation.

A sneer lies on his lips. "Oh now that is rich, coming from you .”

My arms cross themselves as my brows quirk in his direction. “In what way?”

“You tell me,” Agni retorts arrogantly and his tongue presses out his cheek while amusement simmers in his gaze. “Kiss any good level-ones lately, yeah? ”

My mouth opens and closes before a deep flush encircles my neck. His lips pull up into a sardonic grin at my surprise, then he lowers his head and waits mockingly for my contradiction.

The one he knows I cannot make.

Herse and Greer had better be making the twins' lives a living fucking hell right now.

My back molars scrape against the flesh of my tongue in bitter aggravation. The longer I’m silent, the broader his grin grows. I decide offense is better than no defense at all. “If I didn’t know any better, Agni, I’d say you pay an unusual amount of attention to my daily life.”

It's an off-handed remark without too much bite, yet it has an unanticipated effect on the southern captain. A faint redness begins to bloom beneath the perpetual tan of his face. Any and all hint of his prior amusement is suddenly gone.

“What were you even doing that close to the cliffside?” He asks snidely, changing the topic of our debate entirely. “Trying to see if you might sprout wings?” A strange edge sharpens his voice.

“I was—I heard a scream. I went to see what it was and lost my footing,” I explain, my tone odd.

While it’s all technically true, the look Agni gives me says he isn’t buying it. His eyes narrow skeptically while scrutinizing my face. Countless arguments cloud the south captain's expression, but to my eternal surprise, he actually doesn't start a single one of them.

After a minute of silence, he makes a comment designed specifically to make my head spin.

“Your eyes have green in them.”

I blink up at Agni. “ What ?”

I’m quite certain I’ve misheard him .

His dark, windswept head of hair weighs heavily to one side. I find those amber-ensconced pupils dilating incrementally while inspecting something about my face further.

“Right there in the center,” he notes to himself. “ Hm .”

Agni’s ability to throw me off balance is quite honestly uncanny.

My mouth parts itself slightly, but no sound escapes.

The bizarre shift has left me at a complete and utter loss for words.

My brain feels like it’s been run through a bath, and I’m suddenly overly conscious of the growing silence between us.

He looks away from me and up to the nocturnal sky above us for one fleeting moment. The motion strikes me as odd— boyish even.

I try to formulate some sort of stinging comment, but to my horror, my usual arsenal is found entirely empty.

He looks back down, scanning my face briefly before setting his jaw and abruptly turning around.

I stare in stupefied silence as he stalks ahead, taking the second path and forging away from my own trail.

Shaking my head in complete confoundment, I drag myself up to the bleak, spired fortress.

When returning, I don’t immediately slip back to my cabin as I'd previously intended.

Instead, I find myself gazing at one of the many rusted mirror wall-hangings lining the main level’s backside corridor. I stand there for several minutes, peering intensely at a reflection I’ve never cared much to study before.

Agni was correct.

There, in the heart of my bitterly cold sapphire iris, ripples out a small halo of seafoam green.