Page 50 of The Trials of Ophelia

Seron stood beside him, doling out instructions, and a number of Seawatchers surrounded them. Tolek’s eyes were wild as he soaked in each word, hands exploring the different levers used to turn and aim the massive weapon.

My heart squeezed in my chest at the exhilaration in his gaze. After what he’d told me about how his father’s treatment had manifested within him and how the Mindshaper torture and the Undertaking had warped his thoughts further, each of his laughs was something to cherish, even more so than before.

Cypherion stood on the outskirts of the group, listening with his arms crossed but eyes bright and intrigued.

“You allowed this, then?” I asked as I approached.

“He was awake before the sun, throwing a pillow at me and saying Seron arranged this for us.” Cypherion shook his head. “There was no stopping him.”

“Test seven!” Seron’s booming voice carried along the cliff again. It seemed amplified, and I wondered if it was an effect of the acoustics or some trick their Angel gave them.

Cyph and I watched as Tolek restocked some kind of powder in the next cannon, ignited a fuse, and—BOOM.

This one shook my entire frame, the blast ringing in my ears.

“Should have warned you,” Chorid laughed, brushing his blond hair back with a soot-streaked hand. It was unbound around his shoulders this morning. He patted my arm before following the Seawatchers to the next weapon, stationed fifty feet down the cliff.

“They test them once a month,” Cyph explained. “The next was supposed to be in a week, but they moved it up since we’re here.”

And hopefully by next week, we’d be gone. Off to the war front with an Angel emblem in hand, before Kakias sniffed out this one.

“Good morning,” Tolek said, rushing over to place a kiss on my cheek. It was so effortless, the way he did that now. I supposed that ease had always existed between us, in words and gestures, but the small ones like that kiss that were becoming more frequent were my favorite. The little ways he showed he cared for me no matter what terrors were going on around us, as if he simply couldn’t resist.

I was craving them more and more.

“Did you see that?” he asked, placing a hand on my lower back to guide me to the next weapon.

“It was incredible,” I answered. The way it had arched through the air once fired, the distance and precision a weapon so massive could achieve. It was a marvel. But what I really loved about it was the energy it gave Tolek. As he gushed about the process he’d learned this morning during the next two tests, there was a tangible buzz to his voice. It dulled the haunting shadows of his nightmares.

Tol always felt his emotions so deeply I thought I could reach out and touch them. Life, I thought. Tolek is so full of life. And places like this brought it out in him. Constantly seeking the next adventure, the next challenge.

Spirits, I wanted to bottle up his vivacity and drink it, if only so I could feel it with him. After all the grief and guilt I’d been wading through, I wanted to live with Tolek.

I gazed up at him as he explained the powder was pulverized rocks that fell from the mountains, and their residual magic, when burned, powered the cannons. His happiness was contagious, bubbling over into me until I thought my own might drown me. When Cypherion left us to go test one of the cannons himself, I stretched up onto my toes and placed a kiss on Tolek’s cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, but even that one touch ignited the fire in his eyes.

I shrugged. “I’m feeling very grateful this morning.”

He slung an arm around me and kept a hand on my skin—shoulder, waist, or even entwined with my own—for the remaining twenty cannon tests.

It was as the last one boomed that Ezalia’s voice sliced through the morning.

Seron was at her side immediately, Cypherion, Tolek, and I joining them. “Change of plans,” the chancellor panted, a frantic edge to her words.

Andrenas ran up, Jezebel and Vale on their heels. They were both dressed in leathers, weapons strapped to their bodies. I looked Ezalia over, tan dress cut to mid-thigh with a thick belt and sleeves. Coral cuffs around her wrists held small vials, and knives were strapped across her chest. Andrenas had similar garb and a long stretch of rope gathered at their waist.

Unease roiled through my gut.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“A storm is rolling in from the south,” Ezalia said.

Seron sprang into action, calling for Chorid. That prickling I’d felt in the air—it was the earliest hints of a squall.

“It’s going to be a rough one,” Ezalia added, lips pulling into a grim line. “Those islands are going to be buried under choppy waves and who knows what sediment after the storm. And the seas will be too rough to reach them during.”

My stomach sank. If the platforms they’d singled out as an important spot to Gaveny were gone, if the emblem really was out there, we could lose our one chance.

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