The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,73

loud thud as woodchips and debris fall around us. It fractures one of the floorboards, but it doesn’t break through to the lower level.

“Motherfucker.” Shooting up from the bed, I grab Whitley’s dress and motion for her to raise her arms.

“Am I dreaming still?” Her face is pale when it emerges from the mass of green cotton and silk.

“Not this time.”

She stares at the ball rolling around, wincing every time it thuds against a wall. “What should I do?”

“There’s a safe room down the hall.” I quickly tug the zipper up along her back, toss her shoes at her, then shove my own feet into my boots. “But if we start to sink or if the ship catches on fire, you have to get out. Jump overboard and tread water until I can come for you.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t protest or question me as we sprint from our room. That’s how I know she’s scared.

I’m scared, too. Not for myself, but for her.

If she were fae, the metal-encased panic room would be perfectly safe. It wouldn’t matter if the ship’s integrity were compromised and she ended up at the bottom of the lake. Lack of oxygen couldn’t kill her.

But she’s human.

As I open the door, I see Quinn and Astrid inside already, and I’m reminded of their mortality as well. Quinn isn’t fully fae yet, and Astrid is just as susceptible to drowning as Whitley.

I don’t know what awaits above, but we’ve got too much precious cargo aboard to lose this fight. “Where’s Isla?”

A small smile appears on Quinn’s face when she realizes I’m looking directly into her eyes, but now isn’t the time to celebrate my sight.

“You know she can move objects.” She flippantly waves a hand. “She insisted on helping.”

“Foolish.”

Her expression goes hard. “Oh, yeah? Why do you think we haven’t gotten hit again? She’s aiming the cannons elsewhere.”

There’s another boom, but I hear a splash somewhere outside.

Adequately chastised, I give her a humble nod of thanks, kiss Whitley firmly on the mouth, and shut the door.

When I get up to the deck, there’s a smaller ship about two hundred yards away. Kirian’s brought a storm upon it, drenching the sails and the few men I can see. Their boat rocks this way and that with the powerful wind.

“Who are they?” I ask, sidling up to the railing between Kirian and Torius.

“Not Sterling sailors, I can tell you that,” Linus responds, pointing at the Dawn and Dusk flag. “They must’ve stolen the ship from the harbor.”

The city of Sterling is the only major port in the neutral realm, and it’s home to about a thousand of the most honored fae in Valora. The retired war heroes. Genetic engineers and alchemists for plants and crops that are in danger of dying out.

These guys definitely aren’t from there.

Heads shaved on the sides. Light colored clothes.

Day Realm men.

Again.

It’s surreal, watching the three figures with my own eyes. My sense of hearing seems to fall to the wayside as I study our enemies. Wings and swords out. Glaring in our direction.

I don’t know what they’re thinking, attacking us like this. Their numbers are no match for ours. Plus, we have Isla, who I didn’t give enough credit to. If it wasn’t for her, we could be dealing with a hole in the side of our ship, and maybe that’s what these men had hoped for. It would’ve been their only chance at causing enough chaos to take us on.

With determined expressions, they fly into the air and head toward us. They have a wild glint in their eyes, and I recognize it for what it is—desperation.

Being able to see my enemy is so different. In a split second, I can determine their intent.

That’s what I’ve been missing this whole time. I can’t read emotions with my ears or nose, and I realize how important it is to know someone’s mental state during combat.

Men with nothing left to lose are the most dangerous kind.

“You don’t suppose they’re willing to negotiate?” Kirian’s skeptical tone matches my opinion.

“Doubt it.” Metal scrapes as everyone around us removes their weapons, but I motion for them to stand down. I’m not taking any chances this time. “I’ve got it. Get out the fishing nets.”

Before anyone can question my plan, I blast my slumber vibes toward the men in the sky. Fifty feet away from us, their eyelids droop, their wings falter, and they fall to the water with a splash. Bobbing up to the surface,