Page 43 of The Lost Fae
The walk from the ship to Anastasia's castle is half a day long at least, if I remember correctly from our arrival. But there aren't any humans with us now, and we’re able to move at inhuman speeds. Trees come and go in my peripheral, my boots occasionally skidding on the ice of downhill slopes.
Near enough to watch but too far away to touch, the bandits stay above us, their attention locked on their leader. I know I'm the one that's convinced Lincoln that Fae do have the capacity to care, and even more so these men who are mostly half human, but his faith in that ability is much greater than mine. To try and calm the rising worry inside of me, the fear that we can't pull this off, I count the Fae above my head like shooting stars. I count them again and again, repeating the numbers in my thoughts until I'm whispering the numbers as my breath floats in small hazy clouds around my face.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.Repeat.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Six. Seven.Again.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Six. Seven.Once more.
The repetition of my counting becomes a rhythm that matches the sound of our steps. Our footprints sparkle behind us in the sun that makes it way toward the middle of the sky. The beating of their wings above us becomes the strum of a guitar in my mind as I make myself distant. As I try to detach from the situation.
When I'm certain I can't distract myself any longer, when I fear that I'll scream in frustration and demand an answer right here right now, the old ship comes into view. Its bow divides the ice that clings to the land’s edge, the red flag waving in the wind that pushes us toward it. I clamp my mouth shut.
"Briar, up the ladder. Then I need you to break the chains of the anchors." The image of their locations in the stern flashes behind my eyelids.
I count the men one last time before I rush to the wooden ladder and scurry up the boards. The Fae in the sky begin to lower, placing themselves a few feet behind where I had just been watching Lincoln. Ziko's voice calls out to them, but I can't make out the words beyond the buzzing in my ears and the effort I have to put in to focus on the tasks at hand.
The deck of the ship glistens with frost. Without the pirates moving over the creaking boards, it's a ghost of what it can be. I slip across the weathered surface, forcing myself to stay upright as I shuffle to the back of the boat. Past the Captain’s quarters, behind the stairs that lead up above it, hanging between the rails, large black chains fall over the ledge and into the slush of the ocean.
The wind blows to our advantage, wishing us bon voyage to wherever Lincoln's going to take us. I clasp one of the metal chains, the loop of it is as thick as my forearm. Heat from my hands warms the ice that coats it, making my fingers damp. It draws the cold to me.
I squat, pulling the loop apart to disconnect it like a broken piece of jewelry. A grunt of effort leaves me and my head pounds. The metal groans. Cold air fills my lungs and I push it back out and pull again.
Every movement feels urgent, each second that passes is a second that Lincoln's alone with an army of men without any elements of surprise. I try to make all of my worries change into effort and the metal creaks again, opening further until it's wide enough I can let it slip from the link above it.
Bouncing off the side of the deck, the anchor pulls the chain down into the waiting watery abyss. I glance up to realize that the sails have been drawn up. I focus on the ties that keep them in place. My magic undoing the knots, freeing the sails that lower with a snap in the wind. The ship lurches as the wind pushes against my back. My coat presses into my shoulders as the sails drag the ship away from the shore.
We're dragging the second anchor.I think, feeling the boat continue to move ever so slowly.I can't leave Lincoln behind. I'll fly to him if I must.Even though I know that I have yet to figure that particular skill out.
I'll break the second chain and make it back to him. Lincoln will be on this boat as we get out to sea. He will. He must.
This chain opens faster, my strength fueled even more by the fear of losing Ziko. The fear of being alone on a ship in the middle of The Lost Court. As soon as I pry it open enough, I let the links go and spin around.
"Very good," his deep voice answers.
My boot slides in the frost coating and I catch myself on my ass and the palms of my hands. A cold, bitter pain slices into my skin and I look to meet the Iron cut gaze of my claimed.
"Lincoln," I breathe.
He offers me a hand and helps me up. His face is blank, the dark, fur-lined hood pulled up over his hair, but all of him is intact. So I push past him and run back to the bow. I bounce off the railing and the walls of Captain Beatrice's cabin, hurtling myself forward until I knock the wind from me, catching myself on the railing.
The bandits huddle around the crumpled form of a man. They talk amongst themselves, a couple bent down checking on Barnabus. Lincoln's steps are loud enough for me to easily follow as he comes up behind me.
"Did you kill him?" I gasp.
"No."
"Is he sleeping?"
"Yes."
The ship moves faster. Ice crashes and splashes into the water as it falls away from the ship’s edges. It drowns out anything of their conversation on shore that I'm not even sure I want to hear in the first place. Lincoln leaves me watching them, making his way to the helm above Beatrice's office.
"What is happening?" I say only to myself. I stay there watching the distance between us and the band of Fae on the shore grow. Curling against the railing, I don't move until my fingers are frigid and numb in the wintry atmosphere. Only then do I pry myself away and head toward Lincoln.
His attention is focused out on the waves. He squints into the sun. When I make it up the stairs his back is to me and I stand behind him without speaking. Where do I begin? Where does he?
"It's dangerous to have mind control isn't it," I say.
