Page 62

MIKAIL

THE STRAIT OF TEETH

W e follow Aeri’s motions as if she’s a compass needle, rowing straight and then changing direction until she points us to ships that are nearly in the Strait of Teeth.

Joon’s ship is not at the front like I’d thought.

It’s not closest to Gaya, either, but hidden away to the west. I should’ve known better.

Of course Joon wouldn’t risk leading the attack.

The forefront sustains the most casualties, and he wouldn’t stick out his own neck any more than the other rulers—despite having the crown.

Instead, he’s in position to casually observe the battle unfolding.

Coward.

Once Aeri has homed in on one ship, we have him. My heart speeds up, my muscles twitching. Now, I don’t have to just sit and observe. This mission falls on me.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I strike the Water Scepter into the sea.

The ocean responds just as it did last night, and a quiet contentment fills me.

All my aches and pains vanish, replaced by the swaying of currents and swell of waves, by brine and primordial power.

The only time I feel well is when I use the relic.

It does explain how the Weian scepter bearers used the relic continually until their deaths—it’s more painful not to.

I command the water to bring Joon’s ship to me.

Even though I know the scepter is controlling the tides, I still marvel at the Weian warship floating to us on a smooth current. The flat-bottomed boat effortlessly drifts away from the fleet despite its dropped anchor.

I pull Joon’s ship until it’s about two hundred and fifty yards away from the nearest vessel.

That’s just within range of the best archers of the fleet, but it’s a difficult shot even for skilled marksmen in the dead of night.

I’ll take those odds. There’s only so far I can go.

The more I move the ship, the more likely it is that someone aboard will notice and call out an alarm.

“Ready yourselves,” I say.

The men in our boat drop their oars and grab their weapons.

Even the brief break in wielding sends pain shooting through my muscles. I grip the side of the rowboat with my free hand and breathe hard as my body shudders painfully. It’s another convulsion. I grit my teeth, waiting for it to pass.

When it finally does, I focus and command the sea again. The water responds, and my pain subsides as I gather the wave beneath us. I let out a low moan of relief.

Gasps fill my ears as the men ride the miracle of one ship being raised by the sea. I continue to lift us until we’re even with the cabin of the warship.

On my signal, we spill out onto the deck. I’m last, and I let the boat drift back down to sea level. Wan, the head of my household staff, stays in the craft. This is his rowboat, and he’ll keep it in place, waiting for us until the job is done.

The twelve of us press ourselves against the exterior back wall of the cabin. Ordinarily, this should be the captain’s quarters, but if this is Joon’s ship, he will be in here. He wouldn’t deign to mingle with the commoners below deck, so this is the only other option.

My heart hammers my chest as I press against the varnished wood of the ship.

I take deep breaths of salty air and attempt to slow my heart rate, but excitement and anticipation course through my veins.

So much so that I can’t even feel the pain that should be shooting through my limbs.

I’ve waited for this moment for nearly my entire life.

Victory is tantalizingly close, but I can’t rush things.

I can’t ruin the mission again with impatience.

This must be slow and methodical, or we’ll lose.

Footsteps thud along the deck, accompanied by the jangle of steel. The sounds are moving closer—a guard.

I gesture to Duval, the youngest of the rebels.

He’s closest to the left side, where the guard will come around the cabin.

Duval nods, a serious look on his round face.

He launches and grabs the soldier. Before the guard can scream, Royo pulls out his nunchuka.

He wraps the metal chain around the guard’s neck, strangling him.

It’s not the normal use, but I’m not complaining.

The guard is dead within a minute, and the two of them gently lower the body onto the deck so that his steel doesn’t make a sound.

I can’t tell the color of the armor, but the red plumes mark him as a Yusanian palace guard. We have the right ship.

The men all exchange glances. Fremo puts his hand on my shoulder. He smiles and nods approvingly.

My hands shake. I want this so badly I can taste it. I can feel Joon’s blood spray and the thrill of a near twenty-year mission finally coming to its end. I will kill him tonight.

I wave my hand. On my signal, four men toss the body overboard. We don’t need a guard discovered right now.

The Water Scepter is in my left hand; my right is on my sword hilt. My heart pounds against my ribs, but I’m ready. I survived the Festival of Blood in order to kill this tyrant. If I fail, I should’ve died that day.

We make our way in two lines to the port side of the cabin. I lead one group, and Teo leads the other. And there, at the end, is the door. Just one piece of wood stands between me and the bloodletter who robbed me of everything, including my name.

I gesture for Royo to kick it down, but Aeri puts out a hand for us to stop. I tilt my head. She followed orders up until now. I suppose it was too much to expect that to last.

She moves closer to the door. I’m about to pull her back when she reaches into her sleeve. She takes out a pin set and then kneels by the lock.

Clever thief.

I don’t ask why she has a lock-picking set on her—no need to question a gift. If she can silently open the door, it will give us the element of surprise. We might kill Joon in his bed.

The rest of us watch for patrolmen or other dangers, but it’s quiet on the ship. The sea laps against the boat, gently rocking it. There’s no chatter from a crew, as the men are mainly asleep. Other footsteps resound on the deck, but they’re on the aft side.

A soft click lets me know Aeri was successful. Royo immediately picks her up and carries her away from the door.

Teo and Calier file in close to the door, and Fremo reaches for the handle.

As soon as his weathered hand hits the metal, the little hairs on my neck stand. I grip the hilt of my sword tighter. I don’t want him to be first in, but I don’t have a reason to tell him to stop.

He swings open the door, and we flow in after him. One moment later, the lamps light in the cabin.

That’s when the shooting starts.