“Gabrielle!”
I ignored it all. I didn’t care about the pixie dust, the wedding, none of it. Right now, I just wanted answers. Some spirits-damned answers from someone. Anyone.
I marched along the tree line. If my father’s ship was found abandoned, I doubted it would’ve been near town. Bastian had mentioned they’d found it on the opposite side of town, near the jungle. That meant I had to be close.
Bastian grabbed my arm. “Will you just wait one bloody minute?”
I wrenched my arm away. “Why? So you can keep more secrets from me? So you can lie to me more? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you should listen to him,” Leoni called from behind as everyone trudged through the sand.
I spun on my heel. Tears broke free, streaming down my face as I pawed at them and broke into a run to get away from Bastian, Leoni, Driscoll, the whole damn lot of them. I hated everything right now. I hated that Bastian still made me feel so much despite his betrayal. I hated that I felt like I had no control over anything. I hated that it had been eight months since I’d seen Lochlan or Mal, heard their laughs, done something stupid with them. I hated so much right now that I wasn’t sure there was anything else left in my heart.
I tripped over something hard, stubbing my toe. It throbbed with pain.
“Fuck,” I said.
I looked around for the object I’d just stumbled over when my gaze caught on something white and round in the sand. I swallowed, reaching for it.
“Gabrielle, stop!” Bastian yelled, but it was too late. With a shaky hand, I reached out just as Bastian jogged up by my side. “You don’t want to see this.”
I plucked the oval-like object from where it was buried, then turned it over and let out a screech as I dropped it. It was a skull, the empty sockets staring up at me, jaw hinged open.
My hand floated up to my mouth, and Driscoll and Leoni caught up to me, both of them grasping onto my arms. My gaze trailed from the skull to the edge of the island, a little rickety dock jutting out into the calm turquoise water.
White bones scattered across the sand. Blood and water. I’d stumbled onto a graveyard and... my stomach heaved. Suddenly I knew exactly why Bastian hadn’t wanted me to see this. Why he’d told me to stay away. I knew in my gut who these bones belonged to.
So it was true. My father was dead. Now I needed to figure out exactly what had killed him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Idropped to my knees, unable to tear my eyes from the mass graveyard.
“I’m so sorry,” Leoni said quietly.
“Me too,” Driscoll said.
They stood on either side of me. Tears rolled down my face, the droplets splattering to the sand as I stared. After all this time, I’d finally found out my father’s fate. But that wasn’t good enough. I swiped the tears away and stood.
“Where are you going now?” Leoni asked, her voice shaking.
I turned, eyes bleary, cheeks wet. “We have to give them a proper burial.”
Bastian, Bartholomew, and Mia hung behind.
“You all can go,” I said to the pirates. “Don’t worry, I’m not running away. You’re still going to get your precious pixie dust. But my father, all these men of Apolis, deserve to be one with the sea.”
“I didn’t know,” Mia said quietly, rubbing her arm. “I didn’t realize how important a burial at sea was for those from the water court.”
I raised my chin. In order to get to Galaysia—the spirit world—one had to be joined in death with their elemental power.Every court had their own customs. In the sky court, they burned the bodies and let the ashes fly on the winds. In the earth court, they buried bodies in the soil. In the fire court, they put the bodies on a pyre and set them on fire. The frost court was the most unique, freezing their dead, entombing them in ice. And in the water court, we put our fallen into a rowboat and let them drift off. Once they were far enough out, we used our powers to let the waves overtake the boat and sink it, and the body, to the bottom of the sea.
There were no bodies here to do that with. But we could gather the bones and put them to rest. That would be enough. It had to be enough.
My father would probably hate this compromise. He, out of everyone, deserved a proper burial. Every morning, he’d made a trek to the Temple of Water and prayed to Spirit Water, asked the spirit for strength, for clarity. He’d take me with him some mornings, and I’d kneel in the white-stone temple, columns holding up the ceiling, a statue of Spirit Water in all her glory at the front. We’d bow before her and stay like that as time ticked away. When I was little, I’d squirm and wonder when I’d be able to move again, but as I grew older, I appreciated the silence and stillness of the ritual. I hadn’t visited the temple since my father left. It had reminded me too much of him.
At some point, Bastian, Bartholomew, and Mia had disappeared. They probably went back to town so they could drink and eat and fuck while they had a chance, while I was here, mourning the loss of my father all over again.
My jaw locked. It didn’t matter.
