Page 10 of I Summon the Sea

What about loving solid ground? That might be why.

The fae men—they are mostly men—are gathering around budding fires, roasting flatbreads on pans, and cooking the occasional fish on a sharpened stick. The aromas are simple and hearty, and my stomach knots so hard that the sound it produces is less of a rumble and more of a wail.

I can’t remember the last time I ate. Memory plays strange tricks. It can’t have been long, and yet the realization of how hungry I am makes me lightheaded when I was fine a moment ago.

Strange how the mind plays not only tricks but entire elaborate games, how?—

“Human girl, come here.” One of the guards—Arkin, the redhead, I realize—offers me a piece of his flatbread. “Eat.”

Expecting a ruse, a prank, or another leer, I hesitate, trying to read his face. He’s definitely not ugly, this fae guard, with his blue eyes, strong jaw, and the many silver hoops on his sloped ears. But he hasn’t exactly endeared himself to me.

When I don’t move to take the bread, his gaze hardens, and he opens his mouth to say something more.

That makes up my mind in a jiff. It’s now or never, and hunger wins out. I grab the hot piece of flatbread from his hand and stuff my mouth with it as I step back. It burns my tongue, but I don’t care.

“Look at her. She’s half-starved,” another fae man says. “Is it true you’re mute, human girl?”

I wonder if he expects a reply. I nod and turn away, surprised when they let me go and don’t drag me back to toy with me.

Honestly, I’d expected more questions and suspicion, more physical acts and violence. I realize, though, that superstition may be the reason I’m left alone. Wights and sprights can take away your voice. I bet they think that’s what happened to me, that I’m under a spell.

They aren’t entirely wrong to be afraid.

These people are nervous. Distracted. The merfolk attack I witnessed can’t have been the only one on their way here, and we still have some distance to go.

The fae king’s soldiers have to be hardened warriors, selected for this sacred mission. Torn between being bored to death, seeking distractions, and getting chewed on by monsters coming at them from the water and sky, they are kinder than I’d expected.

Still not to be trusted.

Don’t let your guard down.

Turning back toward the barge, munching on my still too-hot bread, I don’t expect to seehim. The sight of him gives me a start.

He’s standing by the barges, looking toward the glowing Pillar.

Athdara.

I keep chewing on my piece of bread, watching him, a statue of a man cast in shades of black and gray. A light breeze toys with his dark hair, lifting longer strands, whipping them across his eyes. The plain leather-bound hilts of his twin swords jut over his broad shoulders, and the handles of several knives decorate his belt. Another short sword hangs at one hip.

He’s armed to the teeth.

Does he ever go about without his weapons? I suppose not when he’s on guard, but he doesn’t seem the type to ever relax. Rather, he seems the type to wash himself, eat, and sleep with his weapons.

“He’s checking that monsters aren’t attacking the cages with the humans,” a male voice says beside me, startling me. It’s Tru, the pale-haired guard. “The argent and nightgold the cages are made of makes them nigh impenetrable, but you never know.”

“The humans are his charges,” Arkin says, stepping to my other side. “He’s responsible for them.”

“He feels responsible for everyone,” Tru grumbles. “Did you see him, how he controlled the sea drak?”

“That was insane,” Arkin says. “He shouldn’t have tried such a stunt.”

The man isn’t standing all that far from us. Do they think he’s deaf, as they sometimes think of me?

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Tru says, “and he knows?—”

“I wouldn’t want such power,” a new voice says, making us all turn. “Not if it drives me batty, like him.”

“Batty?” Arkin grins. “Well, that’s a mild word for?—”

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