Page 21 of Wicked Sea and Sky

“Savage, Cass.”

“It’s called survival. There’s no love lost between us, and he grows crueler with age. If he'd had his way, I would have been sold off to some lecherous lord years ago. If I’m underfoot, he might still try.” She cocked her head and wriggled her eyebrows. “Of course, he has to catch me first.”

“Then it's settled. You’ll stay with me. I need help with the gardens, anyway. I’m about as good at handling plants as I am with boats.”

“It’s a deal.” Cass opened the cabin door,then winced. “Oh, shoot. I forgot my packet of herbs in the galley. I had to bribe the cook to let me make Reid’s tea, and he gave me strict instructions not to leave anything behind. If I don’t collect them, he’ll probably toss the entire thing into tonight’s stew. In small doses, it works on headaches. Large ones? Let’s just say the digestive side effects might cause a mutiny.”

“Then you better hurry,” I said, nudging her down the hall with an amused shake of my head. When she rounded the corner at breakneck speed, I stepped inside the cabin and shut the door behind me. Unless I got a signal from Cass, I wasn’t touching tonight’s stew.

I massaged the back of my neck and eyed my bunk. A nap might ease the queasiness in my stomach, but when I pulled aside the blanket, a note fluttered to the floor. There was also a wooden box sitting on top of my pillow. Gavin’s clean, slanted script appeared as I unfolded the note.

I made a mess of last night. Let me try again.

-Gav

The unease knotting my insides transformed into something lighter. Hopeful. Maybe I misunderstood him.

I reached for the box. It was simple, about the size of a small lockbox, held closed by a metal clasp. Lifting the lid, I sucked in a sharp breath of surprise.

The amethyst and pearl comb from the treasure room was nestled inside. I removed the hairpiece, its purple crystals sparkling in the lantern light.

An intense wave of longing rolled through me. The magnetic pull of the comb was stronger than it had been inside thechamber. A familiar strain of music echoed in my ears, and I moved as if in a trance toward a mirror mounted on the wall.

Gavin had claimed he’d gotten tangled in a vine before following me down the chute, but this meant he must have gone back for the comb.

For me.

So foolish.

Yet, the thought didn't stop pleasure from spreading through me like warm butter. He’d broken my rule. I wasn’t thrilled about that. However, it would have been stolen by a marauder and sold, maybe even fought over, spilling more blood.

Was this the lesser of two evils?

It had to be. And I couldn’t resist the urge to tuck the delicate comb into my hair.Just once, to let its magic whisper in my ear. To tell me I'm beautiful. Chosen.

I peered into the mirror, gathered my hair, and slid the comb into place. Its rich purple tones and pale pearls defied the plainness of my olive green dress. I angled my head, admiring the jewelry as my fingertips brushed over the scalloped shell.

Pain sliced through my finger.

I yelped and peeked at the throbbing wound. A bead of blood swelled on my fingertip.

My vision swam. The cabin tilted, forcing me to close my eyes and grab the bedpost. My stomach twisted, and a sour taste flooded my mouth as images flickered behind my eyelids.

A man sinks beneath the waves, his body tossed against the rocks as a woman rises from the depths. Her silver hair swirls around them as she pulls him to shore. His eyes open, and a promise is whispered in salt.

He lays the stones by hand. For her. A place they can share. A home built by the sea, caught between two worlds.

From the abyss, a shadow stirs.

Amethyst eyes glow in the dark.

The vision faded like smoke, but the images clung to me. My heart pounded, and my body felt chilled to the bone.

I'd known the comb was magic, but this wasn't the cool, clean energy of sea glass. This was darker, more vivid. And it was from a story I knew well.

My father used to spin tales of mermaids and sea magic, even claiming our home to be the center of that story. It was fanciful, but it was just a legend. And the comb had pulled it from the depths of my mind.

I shook off my lingering daze and squeezed my hand into a fist, my finger still throbbing from pricking the sharp edge of the shell. It figured. Other relics granted wishes or bestowed the owner with mystical power.