Flames fly from my hands, high across the water, their centers white and their edges a strange pale green. My heatwave hits the vessel’s mast and burns its flag. Captain Loc summons a pillar of water to extinguish the fire and then raises snakelike streams from the sea and aims them at me.
I stand ready, bolder with Chitt at my side than I would be alone. The navy vessels race closer, moments away. Should the raiders engage us, they will have to engage their entire fleet.
Captain Loc throws his streams of water at the hull. Waves splash the deck, hitting my sandals. “Another day, Kindred.” He signals to his crew, and they maneuver their ship farther out in the open water.
I hobble across the deck. Deven sits away from the rail near Pons, catching his breath. “Those dolts,” I say, helping Deven stand. “Rajah Tarek is dead.”
Deven squeezes water from his tunic and soaked turban. “I never thought anyone could be more dangerous than Tarek, and then I met the demon impersonating him.”
Pons summons a breeze that rushes over us, wicking away the immediate wetness of our clothes. After the wind passes, he says, “The reward for bringing you back must be generous. Captain Loc wouldn’t risk attacking a navy vessel this close to Lestari without incentive.”
Deven and I swap a look. Our decision to meet up with the Lestarians has already proven beneficial. I just hope our meeting with the datu goes well.
The other navy ships arrive and surround us. Admiral Rimba shouts for his crew to retrieve the sailors who were cast overboard. A crewman cleans up the deck, tossing aside debris so the others may more easily work.
Deven groans and leans against me, but his complaint is of exhaustion, not of injury. “I’ll help so we can be underway,” he says. “The sooner we’re on land, the better.”
I hold on to him longer than necessary . . . and then another breath or two after that. He finally pulls back, and I reluctantly return to the cabin to check on the others.
Chitt intercepts me at the broken sliding door. “I’d like a quick word, Kindred.” Since he is blocking my way, I wait for him to go on. “Have your powers always been that greenish hue?”
“They’re usually the color of a star, but I’ve been unwell lately.”
“Perhaps it’s of no concern,” Chitt answers, though his tone implies otherwise. “Each Burner’s powers have a unique color. Mine is a deep currant, and your father’s was a vibrant tangerine. But I have never seen a Burner’s fire any shade of green.”
I had not thought to compare my fire to another’s. Burners are too few for such an opportunity to easily arise. The only other Burner I have met and fought alongside is Brac. I wish he was here so I could ask him if the color of my powers is abnormal.
Ashwin squeezes past Chitt and hooks his arm through mine. “Kalinda should rest, Ambassador.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time, Kindred.” Chitt bows, his expression no less troubled.
Ashwin and I stroll down the deck and rest on an overturned crate. When no sailors are near, he speaks. “The attack was our fault.” His small voice is packed with regret.
“No one was hurt.”
“Thank the gods. Do you think we’ll be safe in Lestari?”
I look to the stone breaker in the distance. “Let’s pray so.”