Page 35 of The Endless One

She turned her gaze back to her kingdom, where she could just barely make out figures on the beach that were shambling back and forth.

Her heart broke at the sight of them. The plague had never gotten so bad that there were infected just wandering a shoreline that should have been bustling and busy. Guards always kept them at bay so they could at the very least have a thriving harbor. Even at the height of the infection, they had always made sure that the sea was open.

“I promised you that I would unmake my kingdom,” she murmured. “And that is exactly what I am going to do.”

“Jessamine, there is still a chance that they might live.”

She gave him a dirty look. “I know that, Elric. I am not giving up on the people within it, but there are certain sacrifices we must make. There’s just not enough time. We need a safe place to land, and I have a coven at my disposal.”

“What are you going to do?” He looked suspicious, and that made Jessamine even more angry.

“This is my kingdom. My throne. I am their queen.” It was the first time she’d thought of herself like that. It was her responsibility to take care of these people, and she would do exactly that. No matter how hard it was.

“Gather my coven,” she said. “We have work to do.”

“Jessamine—”

“Elric,” she snapped. “I am not talking about this any longer. I have made up my mind about what to do, and I will do it. Whether you agree or not.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he nodded. “Then the coven is at your whim, nightmare. Just make sure you can live with your choice once it’s done.”

“Come on,” Elric said to the last witch in the hold.

She’d been sleeping when he found her, likely just as seasick as Jessamine, but refusing to tell anyone. The poor thing had been curled up in a tight ball, her arms around her knees as she tried to hold in what little food she’d been able to get down.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her the slightest shake again. “You’ll feel better out in fresh air. The others are gathering.”

“Just leave me here to die,” she whimpered, curling a little tighter.

“Can’t do that.” He sat down on the edge of her cot, trying hard not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of vomit that coated her. “You know that getting up will be better for you. We’ll get some water in you and that’ll help, too.”

“I’m so sick,” she groaned. And then rolled to look up at him.

Her red-rimmed eyes were a bright, vivid blue. A sea witch, most likely, and that was ironic considering how ill she was feeling. He knew how to help someone like that, though.

Smoothing his hand over her tangled blonde hair, he smiled down at her. “You need to connect to the sea, young one, as you were meant to. A sea witch like yourself shouldn’t ever be in the hold. You belong on deck, feeling the sea spray on your face and the waves carrying you.”

She groaned, but apparently the thought of it was enough to convince her. She rolled to her feet and staggered with him up the stairs. Once there, he was captivated by the sight of his gravesinger surrounded by a coven of witches. She’d shaken off the illness, or was particularly good at pretending she wasn’t feeling so bad. Her dark hair whipped around her face, stirred by the wind. Even the sailors had stopped what they were doing to stare at the magic that surrounded her. Those dark eyes practically crackled with rage, commanding everyone and everything to look at her.

The blonde witch clinging to his arm hummed. “The way you look at her…”

“How do I look at her?” he asked, looking down at her, amused at the thought that he looked at Jessamine any different from anyone else.

“Like you worship her. It’s inspiring, even if it does give the rest of us girls a bit of the sadness. I don’t think I’ll ever find a man who looks at me like that.”

His head jerked up. His eyes inevitably found Jessamine again, and that sensation of awe filled him as she commanded the attention of so many. Maybe he did look at her like he worshipped the ground she walked on. Because he did. That woman could do no wrong in his eyes, although sometimes he worried about the stress she carried. She was worthy of so much more than just a dead kingdom, and he intended to give her everything she deserved.

“Ah,” he muttered as they headed toward the coven. “You’ll find someone who looks at you like that. And if he doesn’t? Leave him. He’s not good enough for you.”

She chuckled weakly, her body already shivering in the sea breeze before she reached for another one of the witches. They all stood there together, watching as Jessamine’s eyes danced over each and every one of them.

“On the eve of my death, I was researching witchcraft.” Her voice floated on the wind, blowing all around them, echoing like a goddess spoke to them from the realm beyond. “Little did I know I would soon die that day. And in my death, I would make a deal with a god who would stop at nothing to be resurrected. I don’t tell you this detail lightly. It is important. The deal I made is that I would unmake my kingdom, and build it again in his name.”

A few of the witches stirred at that. Gazes flicked toward Elric, where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He knew they didn’t entirely trust him. Most of them had already suggested sacrificing him. Knowing that he had always intended for their kingdom to no longer be recognizable? That wouldn’t win him any favors.

“He was right,” she said, and their gazes immediately turned back to her. “He was right then, and he is now. This kingdom has always had a rotten core. We’ve all seen it. From the men who tried to control us, fathers, uncles, friends. To the people who hired us. Everyone hated witches, hated us, wanted us all to disappear, so they didn’t have to think about how powerful we were.”

It was the truth, and he was pleased to hear her say it. At least someone understood that there was a hardness in this kingdom that had always been there.