Page 53 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

I groaned and spun to find the boarox. It raised its head and released a horrendous guttural growl. The crowd went crazy with excitement.

Minha was already back on her feet, sword raised, circling wide to draw its attention.

Neither of us had ever trained. Not one lesson, not one sparring match, not a single person in that cavern had taught us how to hold a weapon or read an opponent’s next move. We had never been given the chance.

If I had known what we were, what Seaborn were capable of, I would have led a rebellion in Jeju long before Mac ever tossed us off the cliff.

No one left behind.

Every woman would have walked out of that cavern on her own two feet.

But we hadn’t known.

And the king had counted on our ignorance and submission.

Seaborn have an innate ability to fight, Nira had said. She was right. Every dodge, every roll, every instinct that had kept me alive, none of it was luck. It was in our blood.

I shifted my weight and charged.

The boarox swung its head from side to side, using its horns as weapons, each arc wide enough to split a man in two. Minha darted in, angling for the underbelly and missed. I was standing too close to Minha. She slammed into me and we went down together.

I struggled to rise. In that precious second the creature lowered its head and charged.

“Watch out!” Minha shoved me to the side, but too late.

The horn caught me across the arm. The white-hot pain hit like a thousand bites all at once, radiating up through my shoulder and into my chest. The sleeve of the suit had split clean, the edges blue and wet. I gasped and grabbed my arm.

No worries. The cut would heal. Right?

But the pain didn’t fade. Blue blood dripped between my fingers and hit the arena floor.

Minha didn’t flinch at the color. She planted herself between me and the boarox, weapon raised.

The creature didn’t charge. It stilled.

In the front row, Theron leaned forward.

The boarox lowered its massive head and sniffed the ground where my blood had fallen. Then it lifted those black marble eyes to us and let out a low and somber sound, the same cry I’d heard when it was locked inside the crate. It turned away and lumbered back toward the far tunnel.

“What’s it doing?” I said, my mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened.

Minha moved to my side, her eyes still on the retreating creature. “Maybe it did its job?” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

She could be right. But my gut said otherwise. The way it had dropped its head to the blood, sniffing, like it recognized me, or knew I was Seaborn.

I pressed my hand harder against the wound as the crowd stirred. A sound of confusion rippled through the seats, then died into silence when the queen rose.

“What is it doing?” Pierre’s voice cut from above, sharp with frustration. “Guards—do something!”

Soldiers poured into the arena with spears leveled, advancing toward the boarox.

The creature swung its massive head at the approaching guards and released a guttural growl that rolled across the arena like thunder.

The soldiers halted.

The boarox moved fast. One sweep of its horn caught the nearest guard and launched him sideways across the dirt. He hit the wall and didn’t get up.

The remaining soldiers looked at each other and ran.