CHAPTER 5
he ship rocks with every wave, the horizon tilting left and right, up and down. Seawater mists my face, and the ship's timbers groan andT creak.
I stand by the stern, clutching the railing, my stomach roiling with the movement. I’m not very good with boats. I can get seasick just looking at the water. And right now, I’m regretting the berry cake I ate earlier. In fact, I regret getting out of bed this morning. The bed didn’t go up and down. The bed was great. So steady and reliable.
“Hey!” someone calls from behind me. “You.”
Nauseated, I turn around to see Viviane glaring at me. The Mediterranean wind whips loose strands of her curls. “Raphael wants to see you.”
“Okay,” I say faintly.
“He’s waiting for you in the captain’s quarters.” She points emphatically.
“Right.” Maybe inside, where I don’t see the waves, I’ll feel better.
I keep a tight grip on the rail as I cross the gently sloping deck. How long is this journey going to last? I climb up a narrow set of stairs to the quarterdeck. An ornately carved door leads to the captain’s quarters.
The moment I step inside, I instantly feel worse, the movement of the ship even more pronounced belowdecks. Raphael, however, is completely unbothered by it. He’s standing over an enormous table, staring at a map. In here, everything is burnished mahogany or brass, and the scent of the wood feels oppressive.
Only now do I realize that Viviane is behind me, practically breathing
down my neck. I lean on the other side of the table, trying not to vomit.
Even though Raphael supposedly wanted to see me, he ignores me and looks at Viviane. “Everything in order?”
“Looks that way. Aleina is taking care of the rest of the group.”
“Good. Did you check on the TTCB?”
“I did. No alerts.”
“Check again. I don’t want any surprises.”
Raphael was clearly in command here.
“On it.” She steps outside.
“Close the door.” He doesn’t even look up from the map when he gives me the order. His skin is so tan, I wonder how much time he spends out here on the sea.
I close the door behind me, trying to breathe deeply. Nausea churns in my stomach, and I wonder what he’ll do if I bring up that cake all over his map.
“What’s, uh…TTCB?” I ask.
A quirked eyebrow. “None of your concern.”
Right. Okay. I suppose I don’t need to know what it is. I don’t really need to be anywhere near this ship, or near Raphael and his attitude.
I shove my nausea and my hatred down and flash an attempt at a charming smile. Though given how I feel, I suspect it looks cadaverous. “My name is Nia. Lovely to meet you. Such an impressive ship you’re commanding.”
He cocks his head, frowning. He lets the silence hang in the air, just to let me know how much he hates me.
I’ve got news for you, my friend. The feeling is mutual.
I quickly abandon the plan to charm him. Something about him makes my skin prickle with heat, and I can feel my nostrils flaring.
I take a seat across from him at the table and clutch my stomach. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to run into the Prince of Bordeaux here.” My voice twists with the intense dislike I feel. I’m shocked at the words that tumble out of my
mouth.
Really, I’m usually nice.
“Yes, I remember you, too. American.” I’m not sure if the last word is a description or a derisive nickname.
Ice spreads through the air between us, and he leans closer to me across the table. So close that I can see that his silver eyes blend to a bright blue just at the edges, eyes fringed with long black lashes. I wonder if Viviane is his
girlfriend. They’d go well together. Gorgeous exteriors, insufferable personalities.
“I remember you.” His expression is unreadable. “And your mother.”
My stomach tightens, and I feel a sudden urge to jump off the boat. The memory of him carrying my drunk mother up the stairs rears its ugly head, and my urge to throw up is back again in full force. “I’m surprised you
remember.”
“Hard to forget.”
“Okay. So, we don’t like each other.” I glare at him. “And just so you know, I usually like almost everyone, and I don’t like upsetting people. So, it’s—”
“A high degree of loathing for me, got it.” He drums his fingertips on the table. “I don’t understand how someone like you could pull off getting these fugitives to the city, or why you would even bother.”
Someone like you. Cold fury snaps through me, making me grit my teeth.
“I was going to say the same for you because you seem prone to making snap judgments about people you know very little about. And that can’t be a great quality in a leader, can it? Not to mention it would make you a shitty spy.”
Something feels good about letting it all out. Is this why people argue? Is this why people get drunk and scream in the town squares? I get it now.
He takes a seat in a high-back leather chair and folds his arms. “Why don’t you report in detail how you helped the fugitives reach us?” He still sounds like he doesn’t believe me. After all, what could garbage like me possibly know?
I sigh, growing flustered. “I was having birthday cake at a restaurant. I ordered lavender, but they brought blackberry—”
“I mean report the relevant details.”
“Fine.”
He lifts a finger. “Hang on, you were celebrating your birthday by yourself?”
I glare at him. That’s right, I’m a giant loser on top of everything else.
“I’m on vacation by myself, yes. Not that it’s any of your business—”
“From what I remember, you spend a lot of time on holidays,” he murmurs.
“Do you want me to report or not?” I say sharply.
I suppose I don’t need to tell him that my days of having luxury vacations are over, that I spent five years eating store-brand cereal to save up the fare.
And tempting as it is, I will not tell him that he ruined five years of careful planning by kidnapping me. “If you must know, Raphael, I saw the demi-Fey through a restaurant window. By the time I realized who they were, someone was watching us, and I was guilty by association. There were Fey soldiers marching around. The fugitives looked terrified, and I hate when people are scared.” My mind flickers with a memory of Mother screaming that bugs were crawling on her skin. I clear my throat. “So I pretended to be a tour guide and that they were my group. And I led them to the docks.”
“And that was it? You just jumped in and brought them to me?”
“It wasn’t that easy,” I snap. “A member of the group panicked and ran.
Vena was separated from us, and the Fey soldiers slit her throat. That’s why I didn’t want you to leave the others behind. They’re executing people in the streets.”
His expression doesn’t change at this news. “There were fourteen when they left Brocéliende. Eleven got to us, plus the extra we didn’t want. That’s a seventy-eight percent success rate. Above average.”
My throat tightens. It seemed so cold to refer to Vena as a percentage. I didn’t know her at all, but somewhere, her family would be mourning her death.
His pale eyes are locked on my face. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a war. People die. We need to focus on the living. And right now, I need to know exactly what happened. Every little detail might be important. So, start at the beginning. Where did you see them? Why did you even approach them?”
I go over it, racking my brain for every single detail. The jewel. The woman who stuck her head out from her house. The two red dragons swooping overhead. The way we hid in the veil— “Stop right there.” He raises his hand. “What do you mean, you hid in the veil? The veil is lethal to anyone without an orb, and there’s only a handful of those in the world.”
I shrug. “This part of the veil wasn’t lethal.”
He stares at me, his face an expressionless mask. “I understand how the magic works, and you obviously don’t. There are no parts of the veil that are safe. None.”
I spread my palms. “Well, I’m still here, so I guess there are.”
Darkness slides through his eyes. “All of it is lethal.”
I’ve contradicted him, and he doesn’t like it.
“You asked me to tell you what happened, and I’m telling you. The veil shifted over me like it was hungry. It enveloped me. But there was no humming once I was inside it. There wasn’t any prickling on my skin, like there usually is when I get close."
His expression tightens. “No…humming. You hear humming near the veil?”
“Yes, because it hums. Anyway, the others joined me inside the veil, and they were also safe, and it was quiet. No humming.”
His expression is so cold, I practically get goosebumps. “And if I go ask the others, they’ll verify that’s what happened?”
“I’m not imagining things,” I say with a touch too much force. Because the truth is I do imagine things, and I’m sometimes confused about what’s real and what’s not.
“Right. Give me a minute.” He stands, and I suddenly remember how ridiculously tall he is. He has to duck his head to leave the cabin.
I wait, replaying everything he said to me. His skill for condescension is
really unparalleled.
Someone like you… I remember you…and your mother. The disdain in his tone.
I stand, clutching my stomach, and make my way to the door as quickly as possible. I’m afraid the cake is about to make an appearance for a second celebration. I swing the door open. The fugitives are sitting on the deck, and the clouds have darkened to a purplish gray. I rush for the boat’s rail, pushing my way through the group.
A high-pitched voice, loud and terrified, echoes in my mind. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, there’s no escape, they’ll catch you. WE’RE GONNA DIE!”
Oh, hell, no. It’s happening again. This is the entire reason my doctor told me to avoid stress. I’m not avoiding stress, and now the voices are back.
I whirl around, checking to see if it could be real screaming. But no one’s lips are moving.
The voice shrieks in my skull, laced with hysteria. I can tell myself it’s not real, but the fear is infecting me anyway. My heart lurches.
“WE’RE GOING TO DIE!”
“No, we’re not,” I mutter, clamping my hands over my ears and shutting my eyes. “We’re not! Please be quiet. I’m not.” The nausea and screaming are overwhelming me. “Stop screaming in my skull!”
The voice stops. Totally quiet now.
When I open my eyes again, everyone is gawking at me. Raphael stands nearby, his eyebrows drawn together. I’m sure his opinion of me didn’t improve much in the past twenty seconds.
Viviane glares at me. “Is she on drugs?”
Ah, if only it were that simple.
I want to get away from their stares. I make my way back to the captain’s quarters. Yanking the door open, I clutch my stomach. Of course, this was bound to happen. It’s been a few weeks since I heard the voices, and I was getting really hopeful that maybe this time, they were really gone. I’ve never had a diagnosis or anything because the voices are the only symptom I have.
Apart from them, I have no disordered thinking. My doctor believes ten percent of the population hears voices, and that it’s something to do with the subconscious and human evolution, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s just that while others might hear gentle guidance, my voices are very loud.
The only thing that guarantees silence in my mind is being under no stress at all—just lounging in my room, reading—which makes the bookstore a perfect place for me to work.
I drop into a chair in the cabin, dreading Raphael’s return. I was hoping the next thing he would say to me would be something like, “Apologies, you were absolutely right about the veil, and you are clearly completely rational,” but I’m not sure that’s in the cards now.
The door creaks open, and I turn, expecting Raphael. Instead, it’s the woman with the yellow dress who saunters in. The warm cabin light washes over her coppery skin, and she’s holding a delicate porcelain teacup with a saucer. Her dark brown ringlets are a halo around her pretty face.
She flashes me a disarming smile, and the scent of bergamot reaches my nose. My stomach revolts again.
She peers at me over her teacup. A strange, intricate tattoo of a vine decorates her neck, disappearing into her collar. She sips her tea. “Good evening.”
I’m still trying to calm my beating heart, but when I focus on her, a little of the nausea goes away. Her eyes are large, with mismatched colors: one
hazel, one brown.
“I’m Tana,” she says airily.
“I’m Nia.”
“Oh, you poor thing, that’s it. Let it all out.”
Another wave of nausea crashes over me. “Let all what out?”
“Oh, sorry.” She smiles. “I got confused. That hasn’t happened yet.”
I desperately need a nap on still land. “Do you work for Raphael?”
“I guess I do.” The thought seems to surprise her. She sits across from me, sipping her tea and staring at me over her teacup.
“What do you do here?” I finally ask her.
She frowns, and the steam curls in front of her face. “I need to look out for pursuit. Or any other dangers out here. My job is to keep us safe.”
“Is that something to do with the TTCB?”
She laughs brightly. “Spy boys and their acronyms. I guess I am the TTCB. It stands for Tea, Tarot, Crystal Ball.” She leans forward and whispers, “I don’t really use the crystal ball. So tacky.”
My eyebrows raise. “Is that…is that really…” I want to ask, Is that actually reliable, because it sounds like nonsense, but I can hear how condescending that sounds.
“I can sometimes see things.” She takes one last sip and flips the cup onto the saucer. Then she removes the cup and shoves the saucer across the table toward me. The tea leaves lie on the saucer in dark, damp clusters. “See? The leaves say there’s one patrol ship. It’s far to the north.” She pauses.
“Actually, it could also be foretelling a rainy day tomorrow. No, definitely a patrol ship, like I said before.”
“You read the future in tea leaves…to look for patrol ships?”
“It’s not a perfect system.” She sighs. “But I’ve got us out of a few near scrapes.”
A sudden wave rocks the boat, and the nausea crashes over me. I slam through the door, bursting onto the deck, and make it to the rail just in time.
Gripping the wood, I unleash my birthday cake into the angry sea.
I hang over the rail, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I rest my head for a moment, and then feel a hand on my back.
“Oh, you poor thing, that’s it. Let it all out,” Tana says.
“Oh, gods,” I moan, straightening. I feel slightly better.
“Here.” She hands me tea in a porcelain cup. “It’ll make you feel better.”
I take a sip, closing my eyes. To my surprise, it starts working almost immediately. I take another sip and already feel my stomach calm. I clutch the teacup and look at her. The wind whips her curls.
“You predicted that.” Though I suppose it wasn’t exactly hard to predict.
She nods. “Back in Brocéliende, I used to tell people whether they’d find
love in their life.” Her eyes sadden. “Then, suddenly, all I could see in the future was death. Tens of thousands slain, the demi-Fey hounded. I had to get out. So, I did. The cards led me here to train for MI-13. Luckily, I have a skill they need.”
I down the rest of the tea and hand the cup back to her. “Thank you. I think I really am better.”
Only now do I realize we’re sailing west, and I can see the last arc of the molten sun dip beneath the horizon. Already, the moon is out, a curve of silver in the indigo.
She takes the cup from my hand and flips it onto a saucer, just as she did before. As the boat rocks, she examines the pattern of the tea leaves, and her eyes widen. “Oh, Nia,” she says breathlessly. “You don’t even know.”
I swallow. “Know what?”
“How extraordinary,” she whispers.
My eyes widen. “What do you see?”
“We’ll have to do a card reading later,” she says, her voice sharp with excitement. “This is a lot for tea.”
She glances over my shoulder with a smile. I turn to see Raphael approaching.
I marvel at the way he’s able to move so gracefully, like a cat, even on a rocking ship. He looks perfectly in control of himself at all times, a born leader. I have to remind myself of what he did all those years ago.
“There he is,” Tana says, “the captain of our lost vessel.”
“We’re not lost,” Raphael says.
“We’re lost in time,” she murmurs.
He sighs. “Tana, did you see anything?”
“One patrol ship, far to the north.”
He shrugs slowly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “We’ll avoid it. Can
you give me a moment alone with Nia?”
With a smile, she glides away.
Raphael leans back against the rail, looking far too casual, given we’re out at sea, evading the Fey army. His gaze cuts to me. It’s dark now, but his eerie pale eyes burn in the gloom. “I talked to Aleina. She says exactly what
you said about the veil.”
I flash him a half-smile. “Told you.”
No, I’m not above saying I told you so.
“But the veil doesn’t hum, Nia. It doesn’t make anyone’s skin prickle.”
I blink at him. “It does. Like bees. You haven’t heard it?”
“Only you can hear it humming like that. Because it resonates with your magic.”
I frown at him. “No, you’re confused,” I say slowly, as if talking to a little child. “I don’t have magic. I’m fully human. My dad is a boring finance guy named Walter, and my mom…well, you’ve met my mom.”
“But you do have magic. A rare form of magic. You’re a Sentinel.”
I turn, gripping the rail again, and stare out at sea. “No, listen. I haven’t seen Walter in a while, but…” Walter was definitely human. No one so boring could ever be Fey. “Anyway, I’m fully human. I’ve never in my life used magic.”
One of his dark eyebrows shoots up. “A Sentinel can disable the veil.
That’s what you did. You disabled the veil’s magic with your magic.
Sentinels are the only ones who hear the hum of the veil.”
I shake my head. “It must be one of the fugitives.”
“It’s not one of them. Sentinels are extremely rare, and it’s not them.
Only a Sentinel can feel the magic on the veil prickle their skin. Exactly like you described. None of the fugitives heard the veil hum. Only you did. And now, your vacation days are over because MI-13 currently has only two Sentinels, and we need another.”
My eyes widen as his words sink in. When I think about it, Walter and Mom cheated on each other all the time. I suppose my dad could be anyone… Oh, hell, no. I won’t be getting out of this easily, will I?
