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She dreaded hearing any more prophecies or vague, eery words.
Jarin shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
They walked back to the camp together. He waited outside while she entered the hut where Ferrante lay in a makeshift cot. Kohara sat by his side, her back rod-straight.
Riella thought she’d been prepared for how he’d look, having seen him already on the beach, but her stomach still twisted at the sight of his battered face and body. Purple and black bruises covered his exposed flesh, blooming like ghoulish flowers among the blistering burns. His hand and arm had been set, and wrapped in bandages.
He turned his head slightly as she walked in. As she stepped closer, Ferrante’s milky eyes somehow managed to lock onto her.
“Jarin said you wanted to speak to me,” she said.
Kohara looked up. Riella expected the woman to be tearful, but her eyes were clear and her chin was high. “He went down to the beach to meet them. Can you fathom such fortitude?”
The siren nodded, fiddling with her talons out of nerves. “Jarin told me.”
“That’s exactly it,” rasped Ferrante, showing his gapped teeth. “Exactly what I wanted to tell you.”
Riella braced herself for riddles. “That you went down to the beach?”
“No, siren. That I got to choose my fate. There’s no greater gift. As I drifted near death, I Saw that if you stay on your path and be brave, in the end, you will get to choose your fate, too.”
CHAPTER 29
The roads to Klatos heaved with travelers the day before the royal wedding.
Riella and Jarin had split from the rest of the Pandora’s dwindling crew. The pirates would blend into the masses, entering the city in twos and threes. The Pandora was docked leagues north of Klatos, in a secluded bay. Jarin dared not allow the ship anywhere near the city, because the Dark Tide Clan was still very much wanted for plundering the royal ship.
Ulyss and a few other crew members stayed behind on Hieros Isle with Ferrante and Kohara and the children. The old man was recovering slowly, but the worst of his injuries would never fully heal.
When the Pandora finally set sail for the mainland, the siren had mixed emotions. Although glad to take action, she’d spent the preceding days on an idyllic island with Jarin. They swam in the rock pools and explored each other’s bodies. During the headiest of moments, when carnal pleasure had altered her state of consciousness, she could almost fool herself into believing her time with him would never end.
But then, night would come. While Jarin slept, Riella lay in his arms, eyeing the moon through the window. Every night it grew fuller, brighter—every night brought her closer to the end of her life.
Spending so much time with him was a double-edged sword, though. Since she would die soon, she allowed herself to be close to him without boundaries or restraint. Caution seemed pointless. The consequence was the explosive growth of her feelings for him. She sought comfort in him, as well as pleasure. It was foolish of her. But then, if you could not be foolish in the face of death, when could you?
Perversely, she wondered if she’d know when she died. Would there be a warning? A slow and conscious demise? Perhaps it would be sudden and without ceremony, the way deaths often were in reality.
Jarin had spread the word about Polinth possessing her Voice, via his crew. They wouldn’t know if their plan to lure Artus had succeeded until they entered the city and found him, or at least his men. He’d be free to dock at the Klatos port, since Jarin took the fall for the royal ship scuttling. Jarin believed that Artus was arrogant enough to do little to conceal himself, and Riella prayed it would be true.
“Why’s this taking so long?” asked Riella with a groan.
While patience had never been her strong suit, the stress of her impending death and the difficulty of her mission made the siren unbearably restless. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see past the city wall, to little success. Only the gleaming golden turrets of the palace were visible.
A stone wall, roughly double Riella’s height, enclosed the entire city except for the port. They’d approached Klatos midmorning, hoping to avoid the crowds, only to be greeted by a seemingly endless line of people, horses, and carts waiting to gain entry into the city. The queue moved at an agonizingly slow pace.
“The guards are searching everyone before letting them through,” said Jarin, whose height allowed him to see farther than Riella. “Ordinarily, we could jump the wall, but there are guards every few paces. I’ve never seen such heavy security.” He lowered his voice. “Not even when my mother was terrorizing the city.”
Royal guards in red and blue coats patrolled the wall on foot and horseback. They carried swords and crossbows and interrogated anyone who strayed from the dirt road.
A middle-aged man ahead of Riella and Jarin, who’d overheard part of what he said, turned around. “There’s rumor of an assassination attempt on the king before he’s wed, that’s why. I reckon it’s Prince Davron wanting to claim the throne.”
“Nay, I heard the king will be slain after the wedding, by the Garstangs,” said the woman with him. “So Meliohr can reign as queen alone, and transfer power to Morktland. Her nasty brother’s the real puppeteer behind everything. King Reynard.”
A young man behind Riella piped up. “I heard it was the High Magus who’ll get a blade in the back tomorrow.”
She and Jarin raised their eyebrows at each other. Were these rumors the usual chitchat and speculation of humans, or were they based on truth?
“Reynard,” repeated Jarin in a thoughtful voice.
