All eyes attend us. No one moves. The only sound is water lapping shore, combined with the pulse tap, tap, tapping my eardrums in perfect eight counts. We’re center stage and our audience waits with breath bated.
“Go back, Khloe,” I croak.
“No.” I’m not facing her, but there’s no denying the tears wavering her voice.
My throat burns worse than ever, so I wave my arm frantically, gesturing for her to get the crowe out of here.
Three, two, one . . .
Splash!
Sigh. At least she isn’t as stubborn as her brother.
“El-i-yan-a Em-ber.” Joshua enunciates each syllable. Slowly. Carefully. It’s as if he’s unsure my name and I are one and the same. “It’s me.”
My right foot slides back, followed by my left. I’m distinctly aware of Ky’s mirrorblade tucked into the back of my jeans. I grabbed it before we left, uncertain what the Fourth would bring. Now I have the urge to reach for it but can’t quite bring myself to follow through. This isn’t Joshua. At least not the one I know. My Joshua is a good guy. A hero. But the man before me is a stranger, cut from the same cloth as Haman or Jasyn or Gage—men molded by weapons and cruelty and revenge.
Gage stands only a few feet to Joshua’s right, the only other man here from the Second. Are they together? No. No way.
“What are you doing?” The words are hardly audible. I clear my throat. Who knows how long my voice will last, but I’ll take what I can get.
Joshua’s brow furrows. The arm holding the sword to Ky’s neck trembles. “El, you’re confused. But everything will be fine now. I am here. Everything will be fine.”
Is his repeated phrase to assure me or himself?
The blade connects with Ky’s skin. Blood seeps and drips.
I wield the knife. My arm remains as steady as Ky’s unblinking gaze.
“Stay there,” he says in my head.
My entire being aches to give Joshua a taste of his own sword, but I stay put.
“Trust me.” Joshua’s uneven tone mirrors his shaking hand. “Everything will be fine.”
Fury flares. Everything is so not fine right now it disgusts me.
“Easy now,” Ky warns. “Don’t make him angrier than he already is.”
Right. “Joshua,” I breathe. “Listen. I was wrong to leave without telling you.”
And you were wrong to keep Ky’s letter from me, I want to add. But I sense now is not the time to demand his apology.
So I give mine instead. “I’m sorry. But it isn’t Ky’s fault.” I gesture toward him, my palm out in surrender. “Let’s talk about this.” I force a melody beneath my words for good measure. It feels stronger now somehow. Odd. If the Callings are dwindling and the Thresholds drain more each day, wouldn’t I be weaker?
“Not necessarily. If the Verity is growing weak, I presume it would be drawing power back to itself.”
My eyes widen. What?
“My guess is that each time a Calling disappears, the Verity recharges a little, making it seem strong again. It’s having to do less, expel less energy to source another Calling. But it’s only temporary unless we can destroy the Void.”
Intuition tells me to glance behind me.
No!
Khloe floats facedown in the water. I lug her out, back onto the landing. Turn her on her back.
Ky cries out.
My little sister gasps and gurgles, water flowing from the corners of her mouth. I help her sit. Pat her back.
She blinks and touches her neck. “My gills,” she sobs. “I was nearly to the bottom when they just vanished.”
Shield is down. Crud. Three Callings remain. Magnet, Mask, Scrib. Now I really wish Stormy were here. It might even things out.
“Eliyana.”
I face Joshua again. Does he think repeating my name will remind me of who he thinks I am?
“This man . . .”
Is he refusing to say Ky’s name to make a point? He’s already ruined Ky’s alias. Now the entire crew will know who he is. What will this mean? Will they still follow their captain, or will they turn on him the way Joshua seems to have turned on me?
“. . . is our enemy, as is anyone who works for him.” Joshua widens his stance, steadies his arm. “I am here to rescue you.”
“She doesn’t need rescuing.” Ky spits on Joshua’s boot.
He could do more. Ky is taller and just as strong. Even without his Shield to paralyze, he could take Joshua if he wanted to. So why is he just standing there?
“Because I won’t harm someone you care about.”
Oh. Wow. I don’t know what to say—er, think.
“A simple thank you will suffice.”
Thank you. I think my gratitude with all my heart, hoping he feels the sincerity.
Ky nods.
Oblivious to our silent connection, Joshua knees Ky’s middle. He doubles over but doesn’t cry out.
I voice Ky’s pain with a sound resonant of a dying cat and lurch forward. Stop. Wrap my arms around myself as if the pain is my own. “Don’t,” I sing (sort of). “Please don’t hurt him.”
The tune playing on Joshua’s face can only be described as a mash-up of disbelief and heartbreak. His sword clangs to the ground. He releases Ky, who falls to his knees.
It worked. My Mirror song worked. Is Ky right? Is the Verity strengthening with each Calling that fades?
Before I can attempt to comprehend the possibility, a woman’s voice says, “Well done. Well done indeed.” The voice is accented, but not one I can place.
The Guardian wall parts and the tallest woman I’ve ever seen floats forward as if standing on a moving sidewalk. She must be six five, six four at least. The Knicks would kill to have her in their lineup, female or not. Her floor-length Grecian gown hangs off one shoulder, a train of sateen fabric trailing behind her. The canary yellow of her gown’s fabric plays in stark contrast to her coffee-colored skin. The gown is sleeveless, but her toned arms aren’t bare. Coral and pearl bracelets wrap her forearms from wrist to elbow, and a triple-tiered pearl choker encircles her ballerina neck. Everything about her begs attention, right up to her lilac eyes and looping Princess Leia braids.
“She’s a Siren,” Ky informs. “This is her Mask form.”
This is Countess Ambrose, ruler of the Fourth.
Her Guardians take a knee.
The countess halts inches away. Examines me as if appraising something for purchase.
I have to crane my neck to meet her gaze. It’s difficult to give her my full attention, though, with Joshua ready to tear out Ky’s throat. Ky says he won’t hurt Joshua, but what if it came down to life or death? They need to be placed in separate corners before one of them needs more than a Physic can do at this point.
“You must be Eliyana.” Countess Ambrose’s voice is deep and rich and full of warmth. Like hot chocolate, if it had sound. “Joshua speaks so very highly of you. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She offers her hand, holding it palm down just above my head.
I clench my teeth. My throat aches. I take her hand and curtsy.
Countess Ambrose withdraws her grip, which is not as dainty as it appears, and one corner of her mouth lifts. With eyes fastened to mine, she says, “He tells me you and the rest of this crew were headed here on false pretenses. Is this true?”
False—what? I shake my head. “We’re here to seek your help.” Ugh, my vocal cords are sandpaper.
The other side of her mouth twists into a wicked grin, as if she and I share a secret. A quarter turn and then, “Let me be clear. I do not tolerate liars in my court.” Her expression may stream sweetness, but an undercurrent of steel resonates in her tone. “It appears your captain is the vessel of the Void, and a danger to everyone. He kept this little detail from me upon his prior visit. He must be locked away. I’ll not have him spreading the Void the way that wretched man from the Second did.”
My face must look a thousand shades of oh-snap. Do I tell her Joshua carries the Void as well? That beneath his shirtsleeves, darkness resides? The confession is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to turn him in. I just can’t.
Ugh, ugh, ugh.
It’s Tide who speaks up. “There must be some mistake, Mother.”
Mother? Tide is Countess Ambrose’s son? I suppose I see the resemblance in their skin and eyes, though his demeanor is much more relaxed than her stick-up-her-rear state.
“A mistake indeed.” Countess Ambrose peers down her nose at me. “Shall we?”
Swallow. “Sorry?” What is happening?
“Come. You must be starving. And cold. After all, you’ve been a prisoner of this Void-infested shark for, how many days is it, Joshua?”
“Five days.” Joshua’s stare bores into mine. “It’s been five days since she was abducted from the castle.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s challenging me. Has it really been less than a week since I left the Second? Feels like so much longer.
“That’s right.” Surprise coats her voice, but it’s a sham. This isn’t new information to her. What game is she playing? “Please”—a sidelong glance at me over her bare shoulder—“you are a welcome guest at my palace.” She glides in the direction she came, obviously expecting me to follow.
This can’t go on. I won’t allow Ky, or the others, to take the fall for something they didn’t do. “I wasn’t a prisoner.”
“Weren’t you?” Countess Ambrose asks, her voice rising an octave.
“No,” I whisper.
Her steps cease, but she doesn’t look my way. “Do you mean to tell me, then, you were with this band of Void-serving pirates by choice?” Do I hear glee in her lilting tone?
“They didn’t know Ky held the Void. They’re innocent. Let them go.” I jog to catch up. Joshua and Ky are now only feet away, Joshua to the countess’s left and Ky to her right.
How can I choose between them? Joshua is only trying to protect me. Even so, what are good intentions when they harm others? I stand beside Ky, who’s still on his knees. My hand finds his shoulder. “But I knew. And I was with him of my own free will.”
Joshua’s face is a mask of anger. But I won’t let him get away with his lie just so he can imprison Ky and return me to the Second.
Ky straightens but remains on his knees.
Countess Ambrose continues her exit. “Well then, this changes things, doesn’t it? Zane, take Miss Ember to the Thatsou Catacombs with the rest of the prisoners. They will have a fair trial in my court on the morrow. We shall see who willingly served the Void or not.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Joshua matches her pace stride for stride, worry etching the creases around his eyes. “She’s confused.”
“Now, now.” The countess waves her hand dismissively. “We mustn’t show favoritism.” Before she ascends the palace steps, she adds, “Welcome to Tecre Island, Your Majesty.” The “Your Majesty” part is almost a whisper, clearly meant for my ears alone. “Or as you may have heard it called in your Reflection—Atlantis.” Wait, what? “I do hope you enjoy your stay.”
Atlantis. As in lost city of? I.e., myth? A.k.a. legend? Empire that doesn’t exist?
Now I’ve seen everything.
Atlantis. Just wow.
One of the Fourth’s Guardians—Zane, no doubt—flanks my right side, takes my arm, and confiscates my weapon. His grip is firm but gentle, an unexpected reprieve. His right arm bears a band tattoo shaped like rolling waves, and above the band the words “Greatest However Is Water” are inked in deep blue.
“The Fourth’s Guardian tattoo and mantra,” Ky relays in my mind. “They hold a deep reverence for water here as Thresholds are sourced by the Verity.”
I nod my internal understanding and return my attention to the Guardian in charge. Zane’s shiny bald head and apologetic smile remind me of Kuna, as many things do these days. It was this way when I thought I lost Mom too. I saw her everywhere, in everything.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.” The regret in his rumbling accent is unmistakable. He shrugs.
At least I got one of the nice guys. I’m too tired to be pushed and shoved.
With clear effort Ky rises and stands on Zane’s other side. The Guardian takes his arm, urges us both forward. One, two . . . ten paces and I’m inches from Joshua. It takes every ounce of courage I have not to shy away from his brooding gaze.
“Can I have a minute?” I ask Zane.
He nods but makes no move to give us privacy.
I don’t really need it. The only thing I have to say to him right now isn’t for my sake. “The girl.” I jerk my head in Khloe’s direction. She stands on the island across the bridge. Watching. Waiting. “She’s just a kid.” Joshua doesn’t need to know Khloe is Ky’s sister. “I may not have been a prisoner, but she was.” The lie comes easily, rolling off my tongue. I only hope Khloe is smart enough to catch on to my plan. “Watch out for her?”
Joshua doesn’t make eye contact. His jaw works. “Of course.”
Exhale. I glance between Joshua and Gage. Gage and Joshua. “Working with the enemy now?”
Joshua avoids my gaze. His silence is answer enough.
Now for the hard part. I slip Joshua’s ring off my finger and push it into his palm. “I can’t wear this. Not now.”
He flinches. Tucks both hands into his pockets.
My own coldness stings, but what does he expect? How can I marry a man who would go to such lengths? Who would hurt innocents just to get to me? Who would lie about his own darkness but allow Ky to be imprisoned for the exact same thing? I almost remove my treble clef–heart necklace, too, but can’t quite bring myself to do it. This necklace is a sober reminder of what I’m leaving behind.
The stony look in Joshua’s eyes takes me back to a day last November. “I. Do. Not. Love. You,” he’d said.
It was a lie then, one spoken to protect me. If I asked how he feels today, would I receive the same answer? More importantly, would it affect me the same way it did then? Would my heart break in two, or would I feel a weight lift?
As Zane leads us away, the most terrifying realization of all hits me full force.
I have no idea.
I peek over my shoulder one last time. Joshua doesn’t watch me leave. Doesn’t say good-bye. And I have no clue if the ache inside is for him or for me. Because even though no words are uttered, it feels like a good-bye. An ending. A permanent, irrevocable change.
A single tear escapes, blurs my vision for a moment. But no more follow. I have no more to give.