Page 24 of Traitor Witch
I look up at the moon again.
Lunar witches sleep during the day as a matter of logic. If you can only use your powers during the night, what’s the point of being asleep for most of it? I got semi-used to the Solar schedule of waking at dawn during my fostering, but I was hoping to go back to sleeping normally.
The pirates will expect me to rise with the dawn…
I sigh and promise myself that I’m getting off this ship the first chance I get, then slip off my cloak and my dress.
I ask the Goddess for a little more magic, just enough to clean and dry my clothes, then tumble nude into my newly made bed.
Opal relinquishes my pillow and settles down on my stomach instead. Tonight I don’t mind so much, her weightthe only familiar thing about sleeping on a ship. The rocking, combined with the fact that I’m surrounded by strange males and the vast emptiness of the sea just a few wooden planks away leaves me uneasy, but I manage to slip into unconsciousness anyway.
Chapter Seven
NILSA
In the dream I’m floating.
No. That’s not right.
I’m drowning.
I breathe in lungfuls of water. Silent screams rip from my chest as the pressure of the ocean sucks me down.
All around me, elegant riches gleam. Opulent, alien furniture, sparkling gems in gold fixtures.
It’s a rich person’s paradise, and I’m drowning in it.
Can you drown in a dream?
Panic floods me as I thrash and claw at my own throat. Begging the dream world for air.
It’s my worst nightmare. Underwater, unable to breathe, and completely alone.
A face I don’t recognise swims in front of me. Sandy blonde hair waves in the water like golden seagrass and the most piercing blue eyes—like cut sapphires—stare into me.
He’s not a man.
No.
Even in my fear-addled state, I can tell he’s not human.
There are gills at his neck, flaring with each motion he makes.
He doesn’t have legs. In their place is a powerful, grey, shark-like tail that makes me flinch backward.
Gentle hands move mine away from my neck.
Those sapphire eyes widen. His hands drift to my waist, pulling me close as he squeezes his eyes shut.
The dream spins and the pressure from the water eases. I gulp in air, falling to my knees on a pebble beach that hadn’t existed a moment ago. My ears pop. Then all I can hear is the sound of cawing gulls, crashing waves, and my own frantic heartbeat.
I cough and splutter, scrambling away from the ocean instinctively.
“Easy, easy.” His voice is soothing, rich and modulated in a way that automatically has me relaxing. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be sirenae.”
I glare up at him, my anger not completely soothed by his honeyed voice.
Now that I’m not drowning, I can appreciate him a lot more.
