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brITT

Britt trembled long after reuniting with Malcolm. He held her hand and spoke at a rate that only a Helsing could achieve. Henrik didn’t struggle to keep up, based on his cool hauteur, but Lars stared with a lost expression as Malcolm rambled.

“You’re fine?” Britt repeated. He’d promised as much already, but she couldn’t believe it. Even with him standing before her.

“Fine.” Malcolm rolled his eyes and drew out the vowels. “I’m fine, Britt. As you can see.”

She shook her head.

Blessed mermaids.

The plan worked .

“The Unseen island is not so much a prison,” Malcolm continued, squeezing Britt’s hand, “as a survival game. There’s not a lot of fresh water, and what little I harvest barely keeps me alive. When I arrived, it was me and two others, though I didn’t see them right away. The first attacked me the night the soldats dropped me into the ocean.”

“Attacked?” Britt gaped.

“I dispatched him,” he said, as if discussing the weather, “and prepared for the second. I could tell there was another one, but didn’t know where or when he’d descend. Eventually, I found him. He tried to be friendly and work together, which I was willing to do. As I suspected, he used the opportunity to commit the layout of my camp to memory. Later in the night, he attempted to slit my throat.”

“Attempted?”

He scoffed.

She didn’t ask more questions.

Grisly death and barbarity was nothing new. General Helsing and life in the Isles didn’t favor those with weak stomachs or loose moral codes, but imagining Malcolm surviving while waiting for Pedr or Britt to arrive made her throat tighten.

Malcolm’s silvery eyes were like a fox. His full face, gaunt. His once-pleasant, teasing smile had turned to stone and exhaustion. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. The amount of food wouldn’t have mattered. Separated from his dragul, he would suffer the same wasting despair and physical change.

Without dragul breath mingling with his . . .

She shuddered the thought away. She didn’t have to think about that anymore. The alleviation of stress and worry on Tesserdress’ behalf was a palpable thing, but their issues were far from over. Back in Malcolm’s clutches, the dragul would be safe. Sort of. She wouldn’t be actively dying, anyway, which was a definite improvement. Already, the color of Tesserdress’ scales improved from bleached ivory to hints of lavender.

Now, they had to return to Kapurnick.

Tesserdress’ scales still littered the air like falling flakes, sluffing whenever Malcolm moved too quickly. Soon, the molting would stop, the withdrawal would reverse, and Tesserdress would gain her appetite. As long as she ate, she’d gain form and health again. For Malcolm, the process might take longer.

Malcolm sent an acerbic stare over her shoulder, right to Henrik, then to Lars. “Who’re you two?” he asked, teeth half bared in blatant challenge. The thought that he would fight Henrik in this state was laughable.

To Henrik’s credit, he neither postured, nor tensed. He waited, but didn’t tear his eyes off of Malcolm. She couldn’t help but wonder if Malcolm heard Henrik’s introduction earlier, before he revealed himself. Was he playing dumb now?

“This is Lars, our ship captain, and Henrik.” Britt surreptitiously stepped between them. “Henrik is my friend, and he came as a protection for me. Lars defied a cleansing edict on Stenberg to sail for here. There’s more going on than you think.” More firmly, she commanded, “Back down.”

Warily, Malcolm muttered, “Fine.” His concern swiveled to Tesserdress as he touched her with the tips of his fingers. “How is she?”

“Not good, but now she’ll make it.”

Malcolm stopped, tilted his head toward his dragul, and breathed gently on her. Tesserdress, coiled on his shoulder, answered with a relieved coo. Malcolm’s gaunt, pale features when they first arrived alleviated a little, and Tesserdress’ improving energy was nothing short of astonishing.

With moderate safety assured, Britt plaited her hair and brought Denerfen out of her pocket. He perched on her shoulder and observed. His tail swished across her back in a pleasant cadence, legs perched daintily beneath him.

Henrik peered over his shoulder. “Let’s find the ikon and head back to the ship. Something doesn’t feel right. This island is too quiet.”

At his observation, Britt heard nothing but silence. The noises that welcomed them into the jungle had dispersed. The blanket of calm felt like the precursor to an attack. Ignoring Henrik, Malcolm studied Britt with greater scrutiny than before.

“How are you?”

Malcolm moved to put a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped back.

“Don’t.”

His expression hardened, if possible. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing we haven’t taken care of.”

“Britt—”

“Pedr is coming from the northwest,” she blurted out. “He should be here soon. At least, I think. If he’s not in the harbor already, he’s close.”

His expression darkened. “The northwest? But . . . why would . . .” He stopped, frowning. “Right. Of course. Only Pedr. How do you know?”

“Drake flew by. I sent a lock of hair with a button.”

Malcolm let out a long breath, ran a hand through his hair. “Thank the sea for small miracles. We can get Tesserdress home.” With a carefully neutral tone and a sharp eye, he asked, “I suppose General Helsing didn’t send you?”

Britt pressed her lips.

Malcolm cursed under his breath.

“I’m in for it when we return, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “But it was worth it. The moment I heard the news, I sent a drake to summon Pedr and hopped on a ship for Stenberg. Anyway, I’ll explain it all later.”

“Too bloody calm,” Lars hissed, whipping from side to side. “Can we get a move on it? The demmed vittra’s going to descend if we don’t get out of here!”

Malcolm straightened, gaze cast overhead. As the glow reduced outside the canopy, it came to nothing here. Daylight ebbed into darkness with the slow pulse of leeching life. “We have to go to my camp first,” Malcolm said.

“No returning for anything.” Henrik stepped forward. “We don’t have time. We need to find the ikon and leave now.”

A flash of irritation cut through Malcolm’s profound and obvious relief at reuniting with Britt and Tess, who coiled near his neck, wings flapping. Malcolm clasped Tesserdress with one hand, not trusting her to hold herself into position.

“I already know where to find the ikon. I’ve kept track of it. It’s at my camp. The vittra isn’t on this part of the island. She’s been howling and hunting on the other side for days. You approached at the exact right spot. Usually, ships draw her close, but she’s unlikely to have seen you yet.”

Lars relaxed marginally, but his eyes didn’t stop darting.

Henrik tilted his head. “Why did you follow the ikon?”

“Because of Pedr,” Malcolm insisted. “I knew he’d come, if Britt couldn’t. But,” he added, glaring at her, “I had a feeling she would show up first.”

“You have that much faith in your siblings?” Henrik asked.

The disgust on Malcolm’s face didn’t earn Henrik any loyalty. “Don’t insult us.” He turned to Britt with a gentler tone. “Follow me. We’ll have you touch the ikon, and then we can go. I’ve already got the sign.” He flashed his left forearm, revealing the mark. “I’ve been following it, just in case.”

Malcolm spun, Britt still in his grasp, and cut into the forest. “I figured you or Pedr would eventually find me,” he continued with muted whispers. “I didn’t know how long it would take. I’ve been moving my camp based on the ikons, avoiding the vittra by sheer luck, most nights. I think she can sense my good intentions.”

“How?” Lars asked.

Malcolm shrugged. “Not sure what else I’ve seen or sensed, but as long as I move, it’s been tolerable. Loyalty to the safety ikon is the best strategy, so I follow it.”

“Safety ikon?”

“The exit ikon, safety ikon. I don’t know what it’s called. Whenever I’m near it, though, the animals stay away. I’ve taken to calling it that.”

A flood of questions occupied her, but she forced them back for the obvious prudence of survival. Later, on Pedr’s boat, they’d hash out all these details.

“Ten minutes,” Malcolm whisper-shouted over his shoulder, already moving again. “We’re almost there, and it’s not far from the north beach. If Pedr’s approaching from the northwest, we can find him through one of my established foot trails. They’re easier than hacking through this. Lars, you go first. Take this trail up ahead. Britt, you follow. Henrik and I will catch up. No, Britt. Don’t argue with me. Do it. Now.”