Page 29 of Virelai’s Hoard (The Dagger & Tide Trilogy #1)

Calla

Calla and her group followed the river inland, where the thick canopy of the jungle blocked the view of the sky above their heads.

Heat and humidity clung the clothes to their skin as they hacked through the branches and vines blocking their path.

Draven kept looking over his shoulder, a barely contained panicked white showing in his eyes at every snap and crack that accompanied their passing through.

It put everyone more on edge than they already were. They should’ve left him on the ship.

“Something’s following us,” he said after a while, neck craning to peer past the trees at their backs. “Or… I dunno.”

Nyxen clapped him on the back, pushing him forward.

“It’d be weird if there weren’t any noises, Draven.

It’s a jungle. Things are supposed to be loud.

” An encouraging smile. “Sure, keep an eye out, it’s fucking creepy in here, but if something happens and you’re already in a panic, you won’t be able to think straight.

So go on, take a deep breath. Like this.

” He inhaled noisily, and the sound scratched at Calla’s eardrums, making her twitch in irritation.

Draven followed suit, inhaling and exhaling and minutely relaxing his shoulders with every noisy breath he took.

“Just like that.”

Another clap on the back. More noise. It covered the sounds of the water rushing past, which was about the only thing keeping Calla’s hands from twitching.

All she wanted was to take a dive, let the water surround her just long enough to soothe her itchy skin, patch her dry lips, allow her to draw in one unencumbered breath.

She’d been resisting the call for too long.

Even breathing had become painful, every lungful scratching down her throat. Irritating rather than life-sustaining.

But she couldn’t. Even without anyone else around to see, she couldn’t.

Because something told her—a bone-deep feeling that refused to go away—that the next time she took a dive, she wouldn’t be able to turn back anymore.

She’d live out the rest of her days as a beast. She remembered the impulse almost taking over her the night of the storm.

Dragging Riley up to the surface instead of diving deeper, in search of a place where no one would ever find them, had been near impossible to resist. Never again , she’d vowed after that, once she’d returned to herself.

No matter what, she could not trust herself in the water again.

Her skin was a curse. And it was going to take over her if she let it–if she didn’t put an end to it first.

A crack behind them, loud enough for everyone to hear, made Gadrielle’s steps falter. The boatswain frowned at the surrounding trees, then glanced at Nyxen. “You’re right. It’s a jungle. It should be far noisier than this .”

Nyxen scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “There mustn’t have been any people walking around in ages. We’re probably scaring the wildlife.” He shrugged then, and everyone kept going. “Cursed or not, this is far nicer than some of the ports we’ve been–”

“Quiet,” Calla hissed. The idle chattering was enough to bring her headache to an oppressive pressure behind her eyes.

“I can’t hear anything over your talking.

” She couldn’t hear the water. If touching it was out of the question, she needed to at least be near it.

Hear it. Everyone should stay quiet or go back to the Moonshadow.

Doing this by herself would be easier. If she were by herself, she could shed her boots and dip her toes into the river.

Just her toes. Hell, even a bucket of sea water would do at this point. “So be quiet .”

She didn’t mind the looks they were giving her. It only mattered that they stopped talking. She inched closer to the river as they pushed deeper into the jungle.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

“It’s the trees,” Draven announced. “They’re moving. When we’re not looking.”

Calla fought to keep her jaws clamped shut. Then a dry branch snapped beneath someone’s foot. It tipped the oppressive pressure behind her eyes into a pounding headache.

“I said be quiet!” Calla snapped, halting her steps and turning on him. “Or we can leave you in the jungle to make friends with the trees.”

“Sorry, cap.” Draven hung his head and shrunk in on himself under her gaze.

The sight tugged at a memory lapping at the edges of her awareness.

But she didn’t care to reach out, or about the damn trees, or about anything besides the treasure and the water.

Those were the only two things that would give her release. If she could just–

Someone grabbed her arm, holding her back as the others reluctantly resumed the trek. “Calla,” Gadrielle said quietly, once the rest of their group had walked out of sight. Her brown eyes were searching, filled with concern. Confusion. “What’s going on? This isn’t you.”

The words cracked away at something. She remembered another crewmember, shrinking in on herself under someone else’s anger. Calla had been the one to step in then–she’d been the one to smooth the tempers, reduce the damage, put amused smiles on her crew’s faces.

It felt like a life-time ago. A different person. That had happened when she’d been mere days away from a dive into the sea. It had been cycles now. Even so, the sharp moment of self-awareness filled her with shame.

“I–” She swallowed. “I forgot myself.”

She couldn’t go snapping at her crew like that just because she was in pain. Without them, she’d be–she’d be just a freak. They deserved better. The Calla that was wise and composed and patient and fair. Not this .

Gadrielle’s gaze softened, as did her grip.

It cracked away at more of Calla’s walls.

“We know something’s wrong,” she said, and her words were almost pleading.

“We can see it. You need to tell us how to help you, Calla. Or hell, someone. It doesn’t have to be me.

Go to Thorian, or even Sable. She’d do anything if you just asked her.

Just–please.” She swallowed thickly. “You can’t go on like this.

I don’t want the next funeral to be yours.

No one does, least of all Eryx.” Gadrielle sucked in a sharp breath.

“I know what they said to you hurt, but they’re young and trying to deal with feelings too big to contain and lashing out as youths tend to do.

Youths that didn’t just lose their best friend to the sea.

Certainly you know this as well as I do. Our captain was never cruel.”

Cruel .

The word stole the breath out of her lungs.

She hadn’t been herself. Or maybe this was exactly what she was, a monster never meant to see the light of day or walk the earth on two feet.

Her place was down, in the deep, away from humans.

Away from people she could hurt–people that could hurt her in turn.

But she wanted so badly for that not to be true. With Gadrielle there, looking at her like she cared, it would be easy to deny it.

For a startling moment, Calla almost considered it. Coming clean. Telling Gadrielle what she was, what was going on. Then she remembered her mother, stoned to death by her own village, her father’s grip iron-tight on Calla’s shoulder as he made her look on.

‘You’re not like her, are you?’ he’d asked between clenched teeth.

And Calla had pressed her lips together and shook her head. She’d been five.

She had no other memories of her mother. Just her voice, her making Calla promise to never let anyone know what she was, and her death.

A coldness gripped Calla’s lungs. Her crew was still human.

She’d seen the way they spit on deck at any mention of sea folk.

They might’ve left Vareth, but their disdain was still there, plain to see if one knew where to look.

They would never forgive Calla for what she was. It was foolish to hope otherwise.

But Calla couldn’t bring herself to lie to Gadrielle. Not here, not now. “You can’t help.” It echoed the, ‘You’re already helping’ that remained stuck in her throat. Two sides of the same coin.

“You don’t know that. You’re not even trying–”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She snatched her arm from Gadrielle’s grip and walked away. She’d already said too much.

All of this was her trying to fix everything that was wrong with her.

She was trying to guarantee her crew’s safety, even if the Heart failed her.

With or without Calla, with Virelai’s Hoard they would have enough gold to see them to the end of their days, to keep them safe on land, where they belonged.

What more could they ask of her? She didn’t have anything more to give.

When they caught up with the others, Gadrielle half a step behind Calla, the rest of the group stood where the stream led to a wide, stagnant lake, the jungle forgotten at their backs.

They quietly murmured among themselves as they peered across the open water.

The murmurs died down as they noticed Calla, and that made her guilt flare again.

Gadrielle’s words had brought it into the open air and now there was no escaping it.

It was almost as strong as Calla’s urge to dive head-first into this lake.

As she stared at the water, forcing herself to look at it through the eyes of a human rather than the eyes of a selkie gasping on dry land, she knew the impulse held no logic to it.

The water was murky and dark, foul-smelling algae clinging to the edges meeting the earth.

It was not deep, though. If she squinted, she could just about make the markings of stone beneath the surface, even and straight.

Wide. A path. It led across the lake, crossing its bottom and resurfacing somewhere in the middle, far away.

Calla squinted harder in the midday suns. The heat made it hard to see that far.