“I had to, Wen. I couldn’t come empty-handed—this isn’t a suicide mission. Now we have a piece of the Star and the Tree. Maybe—maybe it will be enough to turn Rahn’s power against her. We can do this—the daughter of the sea, and thelast guardian.” She tucked the jar and the casket back into the knapsack, and fastened it again. “We can do this,” she repeated firmly.
He shook his head, a smile quirking at his lips. “You are full of surprises, Talia Dahl-Saida.”
She smiled back at him, struck by the softness in his eyes. “I just hope it’s enough.”
Wen took a breath. “Me too.”
“Talia! Talia! Wake up!”
She felt Wen shakingher shoulder, and she stirred foggily from restless dreams to find him leaning over her, his face drawn and scared.
“Storm’s coming.”
That was enough to jerk her fully awake. She looked up at the sky, the noonday sun blotted out, angry clouds tumbling in from all directions. A cold wind ripped at her hair and the waves were already rising, smashing hard against the side of the boat.
Together,they furled the sail and lashed it to the mast. They secured their belongings underneath the tarp, Talia at the last minute grabbing the knapsack and slinging it over her shoulder. She could feel the pulse of the Star-light, warm beneath the leather. Then she and Wen sat down and tied themselves to the mast as well, the ropes tight around their chests and their backs pressed into the wood, leavingtheir arms free.
They’d been through a half dozen storms already, but this one felt different. Darker. More dangerous.
The black clouds swallowed the last piece of the sky, and all at once it was wholly dark. Wen caught her hand in his. She could feel his pulse in his wrist, nervous, quick.
A wave crashed over the side of the ship. Lightning flared to the north. Thunder crashed, so loud andclose it seemed to shake the world.
She’d run out of time. Oh gods, she’d run out of time! Billow Maiden heritage or not, they were too far away from land to weather a storm that could easily sink a much bigger boat. She was going to die here—Wenwas going to die here, and it was all her fault.
She looked over at him as he braced himself for the coming onslaught.
The clouds broke and the raincame, roaring and dark. Lightning seared the sky, so near and bright it momentarily blinded her. The answering thunderclap was deafening. Wen’s hand held tight to hers, and she felt the ship tilt beneath them, then the tug of ropes around her waist as gravity tried to pull them down. A wave slammed into the mast; she choked on seawater.
She craned her neck to the right, her vision clearing enoughto see Wen through the rain in another flash of lightning. He shouted something, but the wind tore his words away. He pulled something out of his pocket and Talia squinted to make out what it was: a knife, to cut themselves free from the mast if the ship capsized. She nodded, to show she understood. It would only buy them a little time, but it would be better than drowning in the dark, unableto even move.
Wen yelled into the storm, and she caught snatches of his Words tangling up with the rain; she could feel their power encircling her.
But nothing else happened. The wind didn’t lessen, the waves didn’t recede. The Words weren’t enough.
Water poured into the ship, seething over the sides. Talia glanced at Wen, and he was the one who nodded this time. He started sawing at the ropeswhile she grabbed a bucket and began fruitlessly bailing water, straining against the cords around her chest.
Hail stung her cheeks. Above them and around them and beneath them the storm wheeled. The sea tossed the ship about like a child tossing a stone.
Beside her, Wen was working frantically with the knife. He was only about halfway through.
Another wave rammed into them and the ship tiltedsideways, almost capsizing.
“Wen!”
One cord snapped, then another. He dropped the knife and she grabbed the blade as it slid by, ignoring the sudden bite of pain. She grasped the handle, furiously sawing at the rope.
He was nearly free.
She was so intent on her task she didn’t feel the ship tilting beneath her.
And then dark water closed over her head.
For a moment she wasn’t afraid, herhand steady on the knife, sawing through the last rope binding Wen. She felt the cord break, felt him kicking with his legs and propelling himself upward.
And then, numbing panic.
Her eyes were open, but she saw only blackness. She felt the rope beneath her fingers, but she couldn’t get the knife at the right angle to keep cutting. She couldn’t breathe. The water pressed over her head, heavyand dark, killing her slowly.
