Sophie smacked him. “You’re not the orphan.”
“You’re not the one who is literally cursed, miss.”
“Oh, no, you’re right.” Sophie patted his cheek. “You win.”
Iason chuckled, and Sophie lay next to him, her face pressed to his arm, giggling in fits and starts. Every time she stopped, Iason would let out a soft huff and she’d start up again, until they were howling, Sophie doubled over with her hands on her knees and tears in her eyes while Iason patted her back. “I think it’s called an emotional crisis,” he said.
“No, really?” Sophie fell onto her back. “Why do I feel like I just sobbed my eyes out?”
“You could say we did.” Iason jumped when a shadow passed over the tent. “Damn.” He cast an illusory spell over his face again, and Sophie groaned.
“Go away,” she shouted. “We’re having a crisis!”
The shadow outside hesitated, then drew away.
“That’s probably Lazaros,” Iason whispered. “I’ll see what he wants. Stay here and try not to… attract any unicorns, or other mythological creatures.”
“Um, no fucking promise,” Sophie said. “Unicorns are amazing.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Iason said, and stepped out of the tent.
Unfortunately, the rain was coming down too heavily to see much, and when Iason stepped out into the open, whoever had passed by was gone. Iason frowned and put up a clumsy protection spell over the tent, then slowly made his way along the row of shelters, squinting in the dark. Even the cooking stations had been put away, and while he was sure there must be guards posted, none of them stopped him as he approached the water. The tide was coming in, and dim shafts of moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the whitecaps on the choppy waves.
Thunder boomed, and Iason looked up to see a small ship in the distance, moving too serenely for a vessel of that size. Then it was gone, and Iason heard movement in the water: the jingle of glass, a slosh of something rising and falling. A moment later, light glinted off the shoulders of a man diving through a wave, his sleek, lean body disappearing into the inky darkness.
Iason stepped back in alarm and staggered as the man rose to his feet, striding through the water and foam. He was tall, taller even than most Mislians, with hair the color of an oil slick, and beads of sea glass glimmered in his braids as he approached.
“You,” the man said in a low growl that was hardly human, and he closed the distance with impossible speed, wrapping a hand around Iason’s throat. Iason stiffened as the man tightened his grip, and he recognized the wild, furious eyes he’d seen in the dragon that threw him onto the beach. “Whoareyou?”
* * *
Leviathan stared down into the eyes of the man who’d stolen his draconic form, and thought about crushing his windpipe with his bare hand. It shouldn’t be hard. Humans were fragile things, easily killed, even if this one was proving more problematic than most. But if he did that, he wouldn’t learn who this man was or how he’d managed to siphon Leviathan’s power, and that was a question he needed answered before he could send this—thiswizardto Azaiah’s river.
If he even could.
One thing at a time. Leviathan snarled and shook him like a rag doll. “Answer me, human, or I will make youhurt.”
The man stared at him, silent, and Leviathan laughed without humor. “Do you think because I can’t kill you, I can’t hurt you? I can, mortal. If not you, then the girl you care so much for that you stripped my power from me without evenasking—and ah, that threat bothers you, doesn’t it? Tell me who youare.”
He had to ease his grip a bit to allow the man to speak… though his words weren’t what Leviathan wanted to hear, since they weren’t an answer. “Don’t—hurt—her. She didn’t—do anything. She’s young.”
“I don’t care about her or what she has or hasn’t done. I care aboutyouand whatyoudid, wizard. If your magic overflows and takes this island with it, do you think I would care?”
“Who are you? You’re—an Old One?”
Leviathan’s patience was waning, and the sky darkened even more in response, raining so hard it was coming down in horizontal sheets, the sea a cacophonous roarat his back. Thunder cracked, and Leviathan was only slightly mollified by the flash of fear he saw in the man’s eyes and the fact that he wasn’t trying to free himself, only, once again, concerned for the girl. But he wanted an answer and he wanted it now, so he slammed the wizard down on the sand, pinning him, snarling, “You will answer me.”
“I’m no one,” the man bit out. “Nothing. A— Did you call me a—”
Leviathan loomed over him. “I will tear her throat out with my teeth.”
“Iason. Iason Ellas. That’s who I am. A failure who should be dead, but I can’t die until she’s safe. She’s an innocent. Too kind. She doesn’t— She isn’t—”
Leviathan sat back, straddling the man—Iason—so he couldn’t move. But Iason didn’t fight, and he wasn’t trying to pull more of Leviathan’s power with his cursed magic, so there was that. “How did you take my form from me, mortal? What wizard’s trick did you use?”
“You keep—using that word,” Iason panted. He had a scarred face, webbing accentuating his pale eyes, and short, pale hair. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did. I just wanted her to live.”
Leviathan stared at him, seeking the currents that ran through him as they did all living things, but he found no lie in the words. “Wizards are powerful.”
