Send Me Their Souls (Bring Me Their Hearts #3) - Sara Wolf Page 0,74
work to do.
“Cargo ship, by the looks of it.” Malachite jerks his head toward the barrels crowded belowdeck. “Bringing supplies up to the Feralstorm.”
“The Black Archives are on the way.” Fione nods. “And the sea gets more treacherous the farther northwest we go.”
“Giant squids not included,” I add. We put our things by the hammocks we’ll be using to sleep, but Malachite keeps his broadsword and Fione keeps her waterproof book pouch. I keep Father’s unassembled sword in its hemp bag, tracing it lightly.
“If we have to fight, it’ll either be pirates or valkerax,” I say.
“Ugh,” Malachite groans. “I’d take a hundred valkerax over a ship of pirates.”
“They smell equally bad,” Fione agrees.
“How would you know?” Malachite raises one white brow. “You’ve never been out of Vetris in your life.”
“That doesn’t mean I haven’t met pirates,” Fione argues. “I paid scores of them for information on Varia when she went missing. I’ve sampled all their revolting scents.”
We meander back up deck to find Lucien waiting for us at the railing.
“How long will the voyage be?” I look at the prince. “Malachite and I want to know exactly how many death-duels we can squeeze in between then and now.”
“Four days, allowing for fair weather,” Lucien says, and then judiciously pauses. “Please don’t break anything.”
“Nothing but each other’s hearts.” Malachite makes a swear-on-his-heart motion, then points to me. “Or lack thereof.”
“What do we do if there’s an emergency situation?” Fione asks. “You can’t teleport us far again, like on the airship.”
“Unless we need to take a bath,” I chime.
“Or brine ourselves to make us tastier for the valkerax,” Lucien agrees with a smirk, then fixes Fione with a serious gaze. “We stay on the ship. Defend it with everything we have.”
“No magically desperate teleporting,” I warn. “Promise?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I promise.”
The anchor finally begins lifting, Malachite jumping in on the ring of men to help winch it up. The ship backs out of the harbor, the gentle bobbing of the water becoming harsh lashing the farther out we go. Soon, the town of Dolyer fades behind us, nothing more than a gray collection of shapes on a foggy horizon.
The Western Sea is brutal.
Maybe I knew that, once upon a time. But it’s new information to me now. And to my stomach.
“I wasn’t aware Heartless could get seasick.” Fione rubs circles on my back comfortingly as I heave nothing into the water.
“New God’s toe skin—” I stop, lurch, and try to breathe deep. “Why am I—I didn’t get airsick!”
“Air and water are two different fluids with entirely different currents,” Fione assures me. Unlike her stint on the airship, she looks completely composed and non-nauseated. “No wonder witches don’t live near the sea. Cavanos witches, anyway.”
“What’s the difference?” I choke, desperate to think about anything other than the roiling in my guts.
“You know.” She shrugs lightly. “Cavanos witches rely more on Heartless than others.”
“Do you think—do you think there are Heartless outside the Mist Continent?”
“Perhaps.” She nods, gathering my hair gently back as I retch again. “I know in Qessen a witch having a Heartless is seen as crude and barbaric. Or so Varia told me. In Helkyris, Heartless are almost exclusively used for all kinds of polymath experimentation. Paid of course, though that hardly makes it better. Cavanos is the only place where Heartlessness is prized as a tool of war.” She thinks, and then says, “Out of necessity.”
I steel my throat. “I’m starting to think none of it is a necessity.”
There’s a long unsilence as the sea rasps and I rasp, and in a quiet lull Fione finally says, “You mean the trees. Destroying them.”
I only manage to nod, but it’s enough for her. She lets out a sigh.
“I’ve thought of that, too. But the consequences—they’re too wildly unpredictable. Presumably the valkerax would be free—”
“I could talk to them,” I blurt. “Through Evlorasin.”
“True,” she agrees. “But coming to peaceful diplomacy with them could take years. And in that time, they’d run free. With the added ability to fly, now—which means to more than just the Mist Continent. That’s why the High Witches were so upset with you. Not because you gave the Bone Tree to Varia but because you taught one to fly. And one valkerax means more very quickly, apparently.”
We shudder collectively as the sea wind blows, slicing over our grim faces. The idea of these skies being cut across by valkerax, forging new paths into unknown territories—all the stories of Old Vetris, all the myths and legends.