Page 101 of A Trial of War
“Nice touch, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “Indeed.”
Captain Fjorda emerged from behind the helm, his hair bound in a series of braids against his scalp. Eyes as wild as the ocean were tracking me with a seafarer’s precision as I crossed the deck toward him. The long coat he wore held straps and pockets for various blades and other weapons. He was ready.
“Bit of a dramatic entrance?” Fjorda teased.
“Dramatic or efficient,” I countered, offering my hand.
He clasped my forearm in greeting. “Both, I suppose.”
“How are our naval defenses holding?” I asked, stepping beside him as he led me toward the bow.
The river mouth stretched ahead, wide and dark, fed by the lakes and tributaries that carved around Azela’s lands, leading into the White Fang Mountains.
The river through the mountains was carved by snow accumulation and heavy rainfall over the centuries, allowing a narrow passage for our ships to sail through and join us in the northern pass.
“We’ve already encountered two battalions of enemy ships,” Fjorda said, tone grim but steady. “But thankfully, they were not prepared for the likes of us.” His lip curled. “We killed the crew, took the supplies, and sank them.”
“Good,” I said. “Princess Réalta has secured the majority of her father’s fleet, according to her letters. They’re sailing under our banner now. They’ll intercept anything coming from the capital or the southern ports.”
Fjorda let out a low whistle. “The humans fighting against their own king. She’s a bold little princess.”
“Her ships will hold the waters along the coast.” I glanced at the line of ships behind us. The healer who delivered the letter to Skylar left soon after her arrival, stating that she would need to help organize the ships loyal to their cause. “That gives us the rivers.”
A ripple of magic brushed along my senses as the sea itself seemed to hush.
Then he surfaced.
The king of the water nymphs rose from the depths with the grace only his kind possessed, crimson hair slicked back and glistening. His tail flicked along the surface, scales shifting through shades of red, orange, and molten gold. Malek commanded the waves to rise, bringing him to the ship. He rested his forearms on the rail of theOpal, his golden eyes gleaming like twin suns beneath the surface.
“Daxton,” he said, voice smooth and powerful like an undertow. “Your people move fast.”
“And yours?” I asked.
A predatory smile curved along his lips. “My kin are positioned throughout the rivers and lakes of the mainland. Every hidden channel. Every bend. Every depth.” His voice dropped, thick with the promise of death. “Any who fall into the water will be sung to their grave. As will any who try to flee within it.”
Even Fjorda stiffened at that. Their songs didn’t discriminate.
“Perfect,” I said. “No one escapes through the waterways.”
“None,” Malek echoed with quiet satisfaction.
For a moment, the three of us stood together, bound by war and necessity.
“Although my daughter did not return to us…” Malek began.
I glanced at Fjorda, but to his credit, the sea captain didn’t flinch at the mention of his lost mate. There was hope that, when Skylar healed many of the fallen, she would return, but alas, she did not. My heart ached for the male, but I knew that she would be waiting for him at the crossing.
“But many of our people did. We owe you and your queen our allegiance in this fight.”
I nodded, grateful for their help.
“Hold your positions until you see our signal,” I told them. “Once Skylar’s flames strike the skies, everything moves at once.”
Fjorda nodded sharply. “With the wind in our favor, we will reach the battlefield before dawn.”
“To war,” Malek said as he pushed back from the rail and dipped beneath the water in a swirl of flame-colored scales.
