He gave me a smile. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about. That pixie dust is powerful, powerful enough to heal me for good.”
His eyes clouded over, and a horrible hacking sound spit from his lungs. I moved forward to help him before remembering we were separated by bars.
He hunched over, his entire body shaking each time he coughed, blood and spittle flying from his mouth.
“Bastian,” I said, but he didn’t hear me.
He sank to his knees, those blue lines stretching just a little farther before he collapsed to the ground, his eyes closing and his body growing still.
My throat grew thick, and my heart lurched. I feared that he was dead. But no, the blue lines hadn’t reached his heart yet. He was still breathing, and I didn’t know how to feel about that.
I backed away, not wanting to leave him but knowing I had to. I hated that he still had this hold on me. After everything he’d done, I was worried about him. It made me feel weak, like I was under some spell. Maybe I was. At this point, nothing would surprise me. I backed farther away, then turned and ran until I reached the open doorway of the cells. The guard sat there, once again dozing off. It was only once I was outside in the silence of the night that I took in a deep lungful of the salty air.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever let that man into my bed, into my heart. One thing was for certain: neither would ever happen again.
Chapter Eight
The next day, I stood outside and faced everyone whom I’d told the truth to yesterday, all their faces stony, their gazes full of suspicion, anger, betrayal. I didn’t blame a single one of them.
I imagined what Mal and Lochlan would say if they were here. Lochlan would try and make a joke to lighten the mood. Mal would be displeased, but he’d try to get to the root of it. My sweet sensitive youngest brother would give me a chance to explain before judging. Spirits below, I wished they were here.
Everyone stared at me from the sandy beach where they crowded together as I stood on a wooden pier that jutted from the boardwalk, my mother and Priestess Amari next to me as the cerulean ocean rushed around the planks. The white and beige homes of the water court scattered across the rocky hillside behind us, and I imagined all the people peering from their windows to see the execution of the pirate lord.
Mist sprayed my face, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself imagine it was just me and the water, no responsibilities, no Bastian, no execution. Just the wide open sea waiting for me.
My mother nudged me, and my eyes popped open as the guards led Bastian down the stairs that cut through that rocky hillside and led to the shore. Water cuffs looped around his hands, Leoni with a firm grip on his arm as she tugged him forward. She looked silly next to him, half his height, but if he tried anything, she’d have his ass on the ground. People often underestimated Leoni since she didn’t look like the typical muscly tall guard, but that was their mistake.
The pirate lord looked no better today than he had yesterday, yet even with this illness wracking his body, he was still a formidable man. Tall, muscled, clad in black leather with his long trench coat flapping in the wind, a confidence oozing from him that made no sense given he was being led to his execution. I’d told Leoni to be on guard, that Bastian likely had something planned. I just didn’t know what.
The pier wobbled under my feet as waves sloshed around us, clouds blocking out the sun. The day was gloomy and dreary, just like my mood.
Priestess Amari opened a heavy tome she carried, dust flying from the brittle pages. This book was a revered one, ancient as the continent itself, one that detailed the ways in which we should handle different aspects of life and death in the water court: births, burials, celebrations, and executions. Every court had one of these tomes, found long ago when our people first settled here, though most of the courts were more lax in their interpretation of it. My father, however, had insisted on reading it front to back, on knowing every single ritual we were supposed to perform. He’d often sent our priestesses and scholars to other courts to educate them on new findings. He’d always been frustrated with the other rulers not taking these ancient texts as seriously as he did.
I eyed the pages, which looked like so much as a gust of wind might break them. Priestess Amari had her scribes workingnight and day to copy the text so that we weren’t at risk of losing it should anything happen to the book.
The wind whipped her long, white hair around her shoulders and face, but the priestess paid no mind as she flipped the pages of the book, looking for the ritual needed to ensure we performed the execution exactly as we were supposed to. She studied the words for a minute before snapping the book shut.
The guards parted the crowd, pulling Bastian forward and onto the dock, where they stopped, waiting for my mother’s signal to bring him to us. My hands grew clammy at my sides, and I did my best to steady my breathing as I watched him. I’d stayed up all night thinking about his deal but ultimately decided against the offer. Regret crept over me like shadows, but I shook them away.
I caught sight of Driscoll’s face in the crowd, and he gave me a nod. I thought about what he’d said the night before about Liliath, how she’d fought so hard for her people, her court. My brothers, my father, deserved the same kind of champion. Not someone who would just hide away and give up on them. I bit my lip. Was that what I was doing right now? If Bastian died, it felt like closing a chapter on them, writing them out of the story entirely. My heart stuttered at the thought.
Beside me the priestess spoke, one hand cradled under the heavy leather-bound book, the other hand placed on the cover. “Spirit Water,” she mumbled under her breath, eyes closed, “we ask for your permission to use our powers of water to take the life of Bastian Lore, pirate lord of the Dark Seas. We do not ask this lightly, but only because he is a threat to our very existence, to the powers you’ve bestowed upon us. We are humble, we are your loyal servants, we are forever in your favor.”
She knelt down and dipped her hands in the blue sea, then stood and walked the length of the dock to Bastian, flicking thewater at his face, his arms, his chest, his legs. He flinched, just barely, but it was enough that I noticed.
My mother raised her hand in the air and beckoned the guards forward with their prisoner.
My gaze settled on the tome Priestess Amari carried. I always wondered what might happen if we simply didn’t follow the words and actions of this book, didn’t ask for Spirit Water’s favor, but that kind of thinking was blasphemous. Normally, I loved to think about these rituals, how they were created, if the spirits cared, or even knew, if we followed these guides. But today, as an actual participant, I couldn’t find it in myself to think about anything other than the fact that in a few moments, I was going to have to execute the pirate lord.
My hands shook at my sides, and I tried several times to swallow the growing lump in my throat to no avail.
Now, instead of just creeping over me, regret outright seized me. I wasn’t sure I could do this. Oh, bloody fucking water. I couldn’t let my mother, my court, down. I’d already done that on my coronation day, and this was my chance at redemption.
The guards stopped in front of us, Bastian standing just an arm’s reach away, wind ruffling that thick black hair, making the edges of his black shirt flap in the wind. The blue lines were stark today. If I didn’t kill him, this illness would. Unless I helped him. Got him to his ship so he could take the elixir. Revealed the location of the pixie dust. After everything that had happened, Liliath would give the remaining dust back to me, of that I was sure.
But it was all too late. I’d made my decision, and now there was no turning back.
Bastian Lore was going to die. And I was going to be the one to end him.
