Page 11

Siobhan

When I circled back to talk to Nox, I expected them to argue, to shut me down, to do anything but collapse the moment I stepped through the door.

“You bloody little fool!” I take a step forward to rush to them, but the moment they go down, the carefully controlled fire in the ruins of what used to be their desk flares back to life. “Damn it.” I lean out the doorway. “Water-user! Get in here! Fire!”

Two people rush in. I belatedly recognize Callen and Gable. They move as a coordinated unit, one pulling water from the sea and the other “catching” it and sending it in a controlled burst onto the desk. Within seconds, the fire is gone.

Which leaves Nox, passed out on the floor of their cabin. “Medic!”

The call is passed down the line. I go to my knees next to Nox and carefully turn them onto their side. Their chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and best I can tell, their heartbeat is steady. I recognize this even before Orchid arrives in a rush and then curses under his breath. “Magical burnout.”

“You bloody fool ,” I snarl. “Couldn’t ask for help. Had to do it all yourself.” I scoop Nox up, hating how slight they feel in my arms, and look around. The fire may be out, but the soggy mess of the desk and stink of smoke permeates the room. It should be easy enough to clean out in the morning, but that would require hauling people out of bed and…Nox shouldn’t be alone right now.

Orchid sighs. “This has happened before regularly enough that I can say with the utmost confidence that Nox will be fine in the morning. They just need sleep and a hearty meal when they wake.”

This happens regularly enough…

Oh, I am going to strangle them when they wake up. Despite all current evidence to the contrary, Nox isn’t a complete fool. They must know that every time a person experiences burnout, it runs the risk of their magic reserves not replenishing fully. And that change is permanent . “I’m taking them to my cabin.”

No one bothers to argue with me as I sweep out of the room, across the deck, and down the hatch to the crew’s quarters. Bastian sticks his head out of his door as I pass. “What’s…Is that Nox ?”

“Magical burnout,” I say shortly.

I should have expected him to follow, but somehow I’m still surprised when he catches my door before it can shut and slides into the room. I do my best to ignore him and lay Nox out on my bed. They look better already, some of the color returning to their pale skin.

“What were they thinking?” Bastian mutters. “We’re on a ship full of magical people and they just had to…What were they doing?”

“Burning the desk that communicates with the Council.” A smart thing to do, but that doesn’t mean the way they went about it was smart. They could have asked for help from one of the dozens of people capable of it. Instead, they ran themselves into the ground to do it themselves. “Stubborn ass.”

“They always were more likely to take on too much rather than ask for help.” Bastian sinks onto the edge of the empty bed, apparently having no intention of vacating the room anytime soon. He looks up at me. “Siobhan, talk to me. I know you’re furious. I am, too. But we can’t move forward if we’re all being strangled by the past.”

“You left me.” He’s right, but I still choke on the words. “We had a fight, and yes, it was a nasty fight, but you left me.”

“You know that wasn’t intended to be permanent.”

He sounds so sure, but doesn’t he know by now that there are no guarantees in life? Our current situation is proof of that. Maybe he intended to return…and maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was finally sick of our differing outlook about the future. “I don’t know that.”

“Siobhan.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted, and if you had wanted it, this isn’t how you would have chosen to reveal yourself. We have to make do with what we have. The rebellion is out there, whether we want it to be or not.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t make the truth easier to swallow. This was always going to happen, but I worked damn hard to ensure it didn’t happen before we were ready. “We’ve saved so many lives,” I whisper.

“Yes.” Bastian doesn’t move, hardly seems to breathe.

It makes it easier to say what I need to say next. I close my eyes, taking solace in the darkness. “I’m scared.”

“I know.” The words are barely more than a whisper. “We’re all scared.”

And just like that, the words are pouring out of me. “I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m the leader of the damned rebellion. There are thousands of people putting their lives in my hands, trusting me to take care of them. I can’t—”

“How does one call the Wild Hunt?”

I stop short and look down to where Nox’s eyes flutter open. Just like that, all I’m thinking about is them. I go to my knees next to the bed. “What the fuck were you thinking, overstretching yourself like that?”

“I wasn’t…” They lift a hand to their brow and wince. “Going under again soon. Don’t panic.” Their words gain a woozy affect and their eyes slide shut.

It takes everything I have not to shake them awake just to reassure myself that they’re okay. From the tension radiating off Bastian, he’s harboring similar feelings. It’s only when Nox’s breathing evens out again that I rock back on my heels and sigh. “They’re so damned dramatic.”

“To the bitter end.” Bastian moves to sit back on the edge of the bed. “What did they mean? About calling the Wild Hunt?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea.” The words make something toll in my chest, and I rub the back of my hand over my sternum. “We’ll ask them when they wake up, I guess.”

Bastian nods slowly. He pats the bed next to him. “Might as well sit down.”

I almost tell him to get out. My pride has the words pressing against the inside of my teeth, but I forcibly swallow them back down. The truth is that I don’t want to be alone, counting Nox’s steady breaths for the rest of the night. I don’t know how to heal the fissure of hurt between me and Bastian, but he’s been my closest companion, my lover, for years. It’s so simple to climb onto the bed next to him and let my shoulder rest against his.

How many times have we sat like this? I don’t know. I couldn’t begin to count. The familiarity helps as much as anything, bringing relaxation with every inhale. I don’t mean to close my eyes, but I stir sometime later to the sound of Bastian snoring lightly, my head propped on his shoulder. I’m as much a fool as anyone, because instead of moving away, I allow my eyes to close and sleep to take me once again.

Bastian

The night passes quickly enough. Despite my exhaustion and newly full stomach, I don’t sleep for long. How can I, when I’m watching Nox and Siobhan, certain that if I close my eyes, they’ll stop breathing?

It’s foolish. Magical burnout is dangerous, but it’s on a spectrum ranging from taking a forced nap to death, and it’s clear Nox is nowhere near death—even if they’re actively endangering their power supply. I can actually watch the color return to their face and chest. They’ll be fine.

Siobhan is another story, but nothing as simple as a good night’s sleep will help what ails her. I don’t know how to tell her that she doesn’t have to do it alone—or at least how to tell her in a way that she’ll actually hear. We were part of a rebellion up to this point. Now we’re in a war.

Nox’s question from earlier rings through my head. How does one call the Wild Hunt? I know the term, of course. It’s not necessarily part of our history here in Threshold, but as part of my duties to the rebellion, I have encountered people from more realms than I can begin to count. In our time together, those people talked—especially when they encountered familiar terms in an unfamiliar world.

The problem with myth is that it’s ancient history to the point of fiction. We can look for clues in the stories passed down in various realms, but they’ve evolved over the generations to be almost unrecognizable. There’s not going to be a handy solution in those stories…but it can’t hurt to gather as much information as I can before these two wake.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse to move, to leave the room where I feel so damned helpless. To divorce myself from the agonizing moment between exhale and inhale of the slumbering pair.

I slip out of the room and head down to the kitchen to grab another quick snack—and watch the crew come through. It’s right around time for a normal shift change. I don’t know how Nox runs their ship, but shifts are common on every ship I’ve been on. It’s a reasonable assumption that they do the same here.

Sure enough, roughly fifteen minutes after I take a seat in the middle of the room, people start filing in, wiping sleep from their eyes and muttering greetings. I didn’t get the best look at folks last night for obvious reasons, but a quick count tells me that Nox isn’t running a full crew. There are some familiar faces from the rescue, but the only one I know for sure is the vampire. I grab my food and move to sit at the table she shares with two plump women—one with fiery red hair and pale skin full of freckles, and the other with slightly less pale skin, short blond hair, and a network of tattoos on her chest.

“Lizzie, right?”

The vampire stares at me blankly for long enough that a smarter man than I would retreat. At least until the redhead smacks her lightly. “Stop it. You know there’s no murder on Nox’s ship.”

“Fun to picture it, though.” Lizzie takes a sip of whatever is in her cup. “What do you want?”

I glance at the redhead and then smile when I recognize her. “Maeve. You’re the selkie from Viedna who was a key informant. You did good work.”

She blushes prettily. “Thank you.” Then she smacks Lizzie again with the kind of flirty familiarity that speaks volumes. “Be nice. He almost died.”

“How many people have died because of the rebellion?” The vampire surveys me with the kind of derision that I’ve only witnessed in my parents’ eyes. “You’re noble. Playing captive must have been the first time things didn’t go your way.”

I don’t argue with her. There’s no point. I’ve been hurt and harmed and gone without plenty of times since leaving Lyari, but there’s a thread of truth in Lizzie’s accusation, because I always had a cushion of family money to fall back on, at least in theory. All I had to do to access it was go home.

“Lizzie,” the blonde says playfully. “You’re scaring the poor man.”

“No, I’m not.”

They have a sense of history that’s interesting. I remember reading about the vampire. Siobhan was particularly interested in her in Nox’s reports. She and Maeve obviously have some kind of relationship going, but she and the blonde just as obviously have history. “You’re not from Threshold.”

“What an astute observation,” Lizzie mutters.

The blonde rolls her eyes. “I’m Evelyn.” She holds out a hand.

I take it and give a light shake. “Bastian. Nice to meet you.”

“Lizzie and I come from a different realm, though the portal back to it is shattered now due to some…unfortunate circumstances.” She beams at me, her charisma nearly knocking me out of my seat. “I suspect you know that, though, because Siobhan knows and you were traveling with her.”

Traveling with her. That’s quite the tactful statement, especially considering that Siobhan can barely stand the sight of me these days. “Yes, I’m aware of you.” I lean forward and prop my elbows on the table, ignoring the faint hiss from Lizzie. She’s a prickly one, and although I’m not fool enough to underestimate her, from the lack of fear or concern from the other two, I assume she’s simply posturing. “I wanted to ask you a question that Nox voiced. We know the C?n Annwn run through many realms’ myths, but I’d like to know yours.”

Evelyn’s smile doesn’t change, but her pretty green eyes sharpen. “Bowen said he mentioned the Wild Hunt to Nox last night.”

That must have been what got them thinking about it. “How does one call the Wild Hunt in your world?” I don’t even know why the question matters, only that Nox felt it important enough to wake up from bloody magical burnout to ask. The very least I can do is investigate their words while they’re still out.

“I don’t think they are called.” Evelyn frowns a little. “They show up in myths and stories over an entire continent in my realm, so it’s possible that there’s an answer to that I’m not aware of, but to the best of my knowledge, they run either randomly or based on a moon cycle or time of year.”

Maeve taps her fingers on the table. “There are a lot of different calls that go on during a mundane hunt, though. It’s not silent, regardless of whether it happens in the water or the forest. Horns, drums, the kinds of instruments that can relay orders over long distances without shouting.”

“Sure, in a normal hunt.” Evelyn shrugs. “This is a magical one. In some myths, they’re perfectly silent; in others, it’s a giant party. Whatever the original experience that spawned the myths, each culture has taken its own spin on it, which might be important or might just be how myths work.”

Their words wash over me as they continue discussing it, but little penetrates the sudden flurry of my thoughts. Horns. Drums. We don’t have much use for mundane methods of hunting things in Lyari, where the C?n Annwn are plentiful and all the noble families have some kind of claim to magic.

But there is a horn. It sits on a magically protected stand hidden deep in the library in the center of Lyari, on the ground floor below the Council’s meeting chamber. Technically, the noble families have access to the library whenever they like, but I have only visited a few times on one errand or another for my father. The horn is massive enough that I don’t think I could lift it, twisted and curved unlike any other I’ve seen before, the carvings in its surface inlaid with gold and jewels and spells for a purpose I couldn’t begin to guess.

I wonder if Siobhan knows about it? I wonder if Nox does…