Page 42 of Between Fear and Favor

“What does it look like, Princess?” he sneered as I took in my surroundings.

“It, is it...a cell made of coral?” I asked, tracing my fingertip over the webbed rock. White coral spread across an entire wall, growing over some sort of metal grate. It looked like something off of a trade ship, repurposed by nature. With the way the coral had engulfed it, the holes were quite tiny, and I couldn’t make out what was on the other side. Smokkar’s glow was the only light in the room, but I bent forward, trying to see through the grate.

“I wouldn’t do?—”

A sharp claw poked through one hole, long and black. I backed up, but the claw stayed there, and I noticed there were barnacles all over it. After a moment, it twitched and disappeared into the dark. How long had that claw sat unmoved on the other side of the coral? Certainly to have grown such protrusions, it must have been stuck.

“What is this place?”

“It is her prison. She never takes anyone with the intention of giving them back. So, play along, or you’ll end up here too,” he said. I jumped back when a tentacle reached through the coral and brushed my ankle.

“How am I to play along? What in the gods’ name do you mean? How am I to?—”

“You landwalkers know nothing of our prophecies, do you? Yet I know all of yours. That laughable prophecy about the Beloved and the Accursed—all that. But what do you know of ours?”

His fingertips bruised my skin where he gripped my chin. Grabbing his wrist, I glared up at him. Glowing softly in the darkness, his features blurred, making it impossible to read his expression.

“Let go of me. Now.” I hadn’t meant to lace my voice with my coercion, but the pleasant hum of my divinity in my veins came as a relief. We must have been far enough from whatever lava rock made up the foundation of this kingdom. When Smokkar let me go, he hissed as if he’d been burned. For a split second, I thought about making him take me to Olistos, but knew I couldn’t risk angering Estri.

He surged forward, lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “Our prophecy speaks of a woman—a princess of the sea—who will kill my mother. Why do you think she only has one daughter left?” Something loud sounded on the other side of the coral, like the impact of a large body. Smokkar ignored it. “All her life, I’ve watched Mairin, learned everything about my little sister. If there is anyone who can do it, anyone who can kill my mother and rule the seas, it’s her.”

“What do I have to do with this? Why are you telling me? This is a seaborn issue. I am not?—”

“Because your life might be the only reason for her to act.”

At this, he spun me in his arms and pressed a long, thin blade made of a sharpened shell to my neck.

“Come out, sister. I know you followed us here.”

There was movement out of the corner of my eye, something catching the glow of Smokkar’s hair. But it wasn’t Mairin.

“By the moon’s rage,” he growled, as a tiny pink seahorse darted away through the hole in the floor.

Chapter 22

ELORA

The pathfrom Theo’s home to mine was well-worn. The two of us had trampled through tall grasses and uprooted any saplings which dared to stray into our path, maintaining it all our lives. But now, despite only having left in the fall, and spring barely having arrived, time had pressed at the edges of our dirt road. I stomped on a new sprout which dared represent life.

The path should stay dead, just as Theo would. Our horses nickered in the distance, locked in the pasture behind Theo’s house, but they settled quickly. Theo’s animals were gone, and his house was empty. We would probably be the last sign of life there for a long time. With his mother having moved to Mira already, would their home be reclaimed by nature?

Drawing myself out of my thoughts, I stepped from the crushed sapling and continued toward my home. When it bounced free, I stopped and turned around.

“Elora?” Cy asked, but I ignored him.

Using my divine light, I decided to make the plant wither. Unable to produce the fire like Mama, the light I could emit was still hot, and I wanted to burn the plant to ash. Calling upon my divinity, light emanated from my palms, glowing warm and threatening. Kneeling over the sapling, I clasped it between my hands and waited.

“What are you doing?”

“Practicing my gifts,” I said, even though the words felt heavy on my tongue. I didn’t know how to explain my intentions. How could I tell Cyran that if Theo were dead, my old life was too? How could I explain that this scrap of land, which belonged to only us, should be left unscathed, frozen in the memory of time?

As the sprout grew hot beneath my hands, Cyran only watched me. I refused to look at him. Finally, when the plant withered and crumbled beneath my touch, I was satisfied. But I knew it would be short-lived.

I wished I could just be sad like Cy. If my sorrow would just stay contained, life would be so much easier. But it wished to escape. I was so angry—at Mama, at myself, at the gods. It was so much easier to find a physical outlet for my pain, though I took no joy in it.

Once I stood, I could see the top of our stable, its wooden roof looking the same as it always had. I wondered what Mama planned to do with this place. Would she allow our home to grow into disrepair? Cyran remained quiet, not commenting on my destructive distraction.

“I didn’t realize how much Mama hated it here,” I said as Cyran held out a hand to help me over a puddle along the path. Grateful for my outburst the other day, I couldn’t be sad that it had led to some normalcy between us. I’d missed my friend. And as it turned out, he was the only one I had left.

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