Page 34 of Reign of Stars and Fire

He’d taken no qualms over Stefan’s request to sail us to the isles. Truth be told, it was as though Ror had merely been waiting for someone to ask to use his vessel.

The last time I was on a ship was returning to the isles, owned by an enemy. I chuckled at the irony. Now, I stared at the dark waves of the Fate’s Ocean on a quest to save the same enemy, only now he was my husband.

How I wished I’d taken the time shoved onto Ari’s longship to know him a little better. I’d give anything to have him chattering on the small sloop now.

He’d be making Stefan laugh with comments about the grand way he steered the boat. Or he’d have Calista rolling her eyes. Or he’d have his arms around me, a promise that for a moment nothing could touch us.

We’d arrive at the eastern coves of the isles by early morning. Then, we’d face the challenge of the damages caused by Davorin. He’d been free for two weeks, and I knew him. He’d stake his power across the isles in a frenzy.

I closed my eyes, sending a silent prayer to the stars the Court of Blood was untouched.

“Consider stepping back from the rail, My Lady.” Ror used his chin to point at the sea. “We’re crossing too near the Chasm for comfort, and what with you out here hummin’, I can’t say what’ll happen.”

“The Chasm?”

“Boundary between the sea king and the land folk. Here there be sea singers who take the fae of the land and eat their bones.”

I rubbed the chill off my arms. Ari had met the sea fae king in the East. I didn’t want to tell Ror the sea king had been slaughtered by Valen Ferus. A seaman like Ror would take it as bad luck and turn us around. The sea singers he spoke of, though, were the sort of creatures I’d rather not encounter.

I’d seen enough of the river demons who’d pulled in three of Astrid’s guards when we sought out the feather. It was not a death I desired.

The tug of curiosity drew my gaze over the rail as I backed away. For the slightest moment, I was certain I caught sight of a glimmer of gold beneath the dark surface.

“Best to rest while you can,” Ror said. He pointed to a small canvas tent he’d fashioned over the stern. Stefan was curled on one of the benches, one arm dangled off to one side, but Calista was tucked beneath the tent.

I pulled back the flap and settled beside her. My movement rustled her leather pack where she carried parchment, ink, and her new quills from the sisters. I took note of the black ribbon tied around her wrist. A ribbon like the one around the dusty roses back at her tenement.

She moaned and rolled onto her shoulder, muttering soft words. “Cursed every day twenty-two . . .”

I paused, one brow arched. “Calista?”

Her eyes fluttered open, a little wild, until she found me. “Raven Queen. We there?”

“Almost.” I laid back and rolled so I faced her. “Were you having a dream about a curse?”

She yawned. “What curse?”

“I don’t know, you said every day twenty-two, then something about a curse.”

Calista rubbed one eye with the heel of her hand. “Sounds like the cursed king’s tale. Probably dreaming of how they went all stupid and asked me to curse him again.”

I smirked and stuffed a satchel under my head. “When we reach the isles, we’ll need to tread carefully. I don’t know what defenses Davorin has placed in our way.”

“Never was one for surprises,” she said. “But I also have to trust the thieving prince and a few warriors are keeping watch.”

There was some relief knowing Gunnar Strom, Stieg, Frey, even Rune were on guard, waiting for me to return. They were clever. Gunnar had strange magic, stronger than any compulsion I knew, and Rune was frightening in his own right.

They weren’t weak, and Davorin did not know all they’d survived, nor the will they had to keep surviving.

“You are brave, you know,” I whispered. “You’ve aided several wars now, yet you keep coming to help.”

Calista stared at me, her eyes like bright crystals in the moonlight. “Or maybe it’s to keep from being snatched again. I know as long as I’m helping you sods fight your wars, I’m safe. Selfish reasons, Raven Queen.”

I chuckled. “How old were you when you were taken to the North?”

“Don’t know. Maybe seven, I suppose.”

“And you’re now what? Eighteen, nineteen?”