Page 70 of The Rake OR The Orca Who Met His Match in a Selkie Desiring Revenge

The cruel elf smiled, as if he knew her dilemma. He knew he was in danger, but he obviously didn’t see her as any real threat. Elspeth begged her hand to move. Surely sheneed only send the message, and it would obey, but it refused.

Please, all I need—

The Navigator’s hand shot out, grasping her throat. He lifted her from the ground and slammed her against the wall. The pressure was almost immediately released as Aegir rounded on the Navigator and tackled him to the ground. They rolled near her feet, a tangle of arms and knife blades until she couldn’t make out what was going on. She tried to anticipate where she could help, where she could insert herself to free Aegir and eliminate the Navigator. Their movements were so jerky and each time she felt as if she could see an opening, it disappeared before she could act.

Aegir grew, his shoulders plumping, straining with muscle and splitting his shoulder seams, but then she heard him grunt. All at once, the growth stopped and he shrank back to his normal size. His ears rounded and his face contorted in panic. The Navigator rolled on top of Aegir, easily pinning the arm holding his knife and shoving his forearm into Aegir’s throat to block his air.

Panic coursed through her,nothingwas going to plan. She was going to lose Aegir and be trapped again. Surely if the Navigator killedAegir,hisblood would sink into her pelt and she’d be bound.1

Though he was pinned, Aegir fought, tapping the ground to get Elspeth’s attention. “Sing!” he mouthed.

Of course! Elspeth opened her mouth, the first words wavering with her heightened nerves, but her song had almost immediate effect. The Navigator slumped, his hands falling from Aegir’s neck to rest on his chest. Aegir moved slowly, as if floating on a dream, but he shifted his grip on the knife and slowly, gently, reverently, slid it up and into his chest.

The elf crumpled sideways to the ground, slack hands releasing Elspeth as he fell. His eyes darted around in confusion where he lay on the ground.

Elspeth stopped singing, whipping her head back up to see Aegir still in her thrall, gracefully throwing the bloodied blade at Phloy'd. He’d stood up during the scuffle, so she’d apparently not killed him. The knife whipped through the air, spraying the first elf's blood against the wall of the hall, only to be joined seconds later by Phloy’d.

The second elf fell down easily with a kick from Aegir, who followed it by planting his boot firmly on Phloy'd’schest.

“Tell Orcus who sent you,” Aegir said, stabbing the length of his sword down through the man’s eye socket.

Aegir’s eyes were crazed, a light Elspeth had never seen flickered through them as he withdrew his blade and yanked Elspeth’s pelt out of the dying elf’s fingers. Aegir immediately held it out to her, looking down as he wiped the blood from his blade on his pants. As soon as he looked back at her, he smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you, you were magnificent.”

“Course…” Elspeth whispered. The amount of blood around them was horrifying. It covered the front of her shift, of the ground and the walls around them, and the still bodies on the ground. Phloy'd lay there, the face from her nightmares finally stilled, but somehow, it didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it was worse somehow. She’d wasted her courage, which was apparently one-time-use, on him and left the Navigator to Aegir. The ship rocked, though Elspeth was more unsteady than she’d thought, because it made her head swim. She blinked, willing her vision to focus. It was just a little blood. Dead people were the entirepointof her being on the boat, but somehow seeing them surrounded by their blood—no, it wastoo much. The edges of the hall darkened as Aegir scooped her up.

“Let’s get you out of here, love,” she thought he said, as she faded from consciousness.

Instead of waking inAegir’s arms, Elspeth woke on the deck of the ship, to Feann tapping her face. When she opened her eyes to see him over her, the bright, clear night sky around them, Elspeth flung her arms around him, shaking with relief.

“I was worried I’d never see you again,” she said.

He felt frailer than she remembered. He’d always been lanky, but he’d had a strength to him that she didn’t feel anymore. His short-cropped hair hung lank over his forehead, though after their swim it wasn’t as oily as it had been before. They’d both wrapped their pelts around them, and the scent of the two of them, their pelts wet from the sea, was so achingly familiar it brought tears to her eyes. If she squeezed them shut, she could almost imagine they were in their small shared bedroom at home after a swim.

“I was worried too,” he said, standing and offering a hand to help her up. “Some days, I worriedthat Iwouldsee you again. Once I met Dahlia, and she told me how you’d gotten away, that thought got me through so many of the most difficult times. I’m sorry about my little episode upon seeing you, it’s only that so many of my nightmares started with you being captured again.”

“Don’t worry—I figured it was something like that.” Elspeth turned to look at Dahlia, who had her face turned toward the sky and eyes closed.

“I’m so happy you found a friend to lean on while you were there,” she said, though she directed it at both of them.

“I don’t know that I would’ve survived without Dahlia,” Feann said.

The dryad opened her eyes to roll them at Feann. “I’m just happy to see the stars and feel the wind whip through my hair.”

The reminder of all they’d been denied reminded Elspeth of her brother’s frame.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners! Are you hungry?” Elspeth asked “I can get you some food.”

“No, thank you,” Dahlia said

“I would, though, I’ll go with you.” Feann said.

Tucking her arm in his, Elspeth led her brother down to the kitchen.

Once they were belowdecks, they fell into an easy, achingly familiar rhythm. The secondElspeth pulled ingredients from the icebox, Feann took a portion and began prepping them. She was beyond grateful that they were all safe though through no doing of her own. Strangely stronger than gratitude was sticky, oozing shame that coated her insides.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.