Page 62 of Starside

Kira groans in agreement. “A bath at all would be heavenly! One that would stay warm the whole time. Can you imagine?”

Zane grunts.

“How about you?” Kira asks, propping her head up to look over at me. “What ridiculous dream are you harboring inside, Aris?”

Several. None of which are possible. I chew my lip. “Magic in the forge would be nice,” I say. “Something to mute the hammering. Make metals easier to carry … or keep the floors magically clean.” I open my mouth, then close it, realizing that even if I somehow survive confronting the gods, I’ll never be working in that forge again—at least not with Stellan.

“Maybe after this, you won’t have to work in a forge at all,” Kira says, her words light.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and take a bite of the muffin to keep from having to say anything else. The sugar is sour on my tongue, as I try to imagine a future beyond this journey, back on Stormside … but I can’t. There’s nothing left for me there.

There’s nothing left for me anywhere.

Something hits me square on the head, and I startle, the muffin slipping from my fingers. I look up, only for another drop of water to land between my eyebrows.

Rain.

I haven’t felt it in far too long, and this water … it’s clear. It’s cold, and clean.

I part my lips in wonder—then the rain falls in earnest, a faucet turned all the way on. Shit. I pick up the muffin and shove the rest of it in my mouth to keep it from crumbling. Zane rushes to cover the pack.

Kira just sits up, staring up at the sky, filling her hands and drinking from them, even though she has a full canteen of water by her hip. Her sword is still in her lap, rain dripping tears down its silver.

Wind blows my hair back, and this isn’t just rain. It’s turning into a storm. “We—”

The boat lurches to the side, and Zane nearly falls over. I grip the edge of the boat to keep still.

“Fuck. Hold on,” Zane says. He’s facing the front.

The blood drains from my face at the sight of surging whitecaps just ahead.

Before we even reach them, the boat hits a rock, shredding its bottom, and my head jerks down painfully, teeth clashing together. Then the prow rises, taking us all up—before we land roughly back against the water.

Xara said the boat never flips. I hope she’s fucking right, as we jolt to the side, everything sliding. I barely keep my hold on its edge, fingers cramping and slipping against the wood. It hits another rock, turning sharply in the other direction, and for a moment, I’m weightless. Time seems to stand still as I watch all of us and our belongings lift—then fall again.

We don’t have a single moment to prepare before the next current hits, sending us all flying. The basket opens midair, spilling food. The canteens soar.

But I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at my pack, which slips off my shoulder—

Right into the river.

No. Everything I worked so hard to save up for. My soap. My canteen. My bandages. My fabric. All of it but the coin in my pocket … gone.

Just when I think it can’t get any worse, we hit another rock, and Xara’s basket is lost.

Fuck. This. Current.

Howling wind batters my face, forcing tears from my eyes. I duck low against it, but it’s like a wall, pushing me back. My body slips, but my grip holds.

Everything here is heightened. Even the storms. If I’m going to survive, I can’t forget that, for even a moment.

We hit the biggest rock so far.

Kira goes flying, and I don’t think. I risk my hold by grabbing her by the back of her shirt, keeping her in the boat. But not all of her.

Her sword slips out of her hands, into the water.

“No!” Her scream pierces even this tempest. Desperately, she stretches her arm to her side, palm open, the same way she did when she claimed the sword. The same way Raker called his own.