She sighs. “Alive,” she says. “I checked his pulse. But we should probably get him in some water soon.”
Kye pants, sweat beads on his forehead, his black hair sticking to his skin. “We won’t need life support here,” he says. “But I don’t think we can stick around for long.”
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Scylla,” Kye replies. “It was the best I could do. I didn’t want us to stay in the Hyperborean empire…”
I nod, but I’m already thinking about how bad of an idea this is. Maybe we escaped Xanthos and his cronies, but this is bad for us. Scylla is close enough to the Hyperborean system that they mustn’t have lost our trace yet. More than that, Scylla is deserted most seasons, since its orbit takes it into danger at different times during its solar cycle. Dangerous creatures roam the sea and skies during the planet’s summer…which just so happens to be right aboutnow.
“But at least we can breathe here,” Kye says. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than anything else.
“We can regroup here, but we mustn’t stay,” I say. “The Boreans might be put off because of how dangerous it is, but I think we can assume that they’re self-interested to the point of concern.”
“Yes,” Kye says. “I agree. But where would we go?”
I close my eyes. It’s a good question, but not one for me. I’m not in charge of this ship. I don’t get to decide where to go. I’m not royalty, I’m not a diplomat. I’m just the brawn–and I don’t know if I’m as good at that as I was before. “We can figure it out later,” Fiona says. “Right now, do you think you can help me take Ner to his room? I think…”
Kye doesn’t wait for her to finish speaking. He’s on his feet and swooping Prince Nereus up in his arms, carrying him as if he weighs nothing. I don’t stop Fiona to ask her if she’s okay, if she needs anything; despite my desire to, I understand that right now, she needs to take care of them.
And I have other business to attend to.
The Wrath is in complete disarray, the hired hands onboard working to at least clean up some of the wreckage. The ship wasn’t designed for a quick escape like that, and the Merati artificial gravity onboard did little to prevent disaster. My leg is aching like hell, and I limp around as I search for my comrades in arms.
I’m shocked that none of them were more seriously injured, though Ryker looks a bit worse for wear. His eyes are bloodshot, ringed with the gold and red of Skoll bloodlust, and he sits with barely contained rage at the starboard viewing window as we look out on the rapidly thawing planet outside. The vegetation here is bursting through the frost, the planet’s seasons operating at extremes.
My brother is coated in blood and ichor, splashed black across his chest, his fingers drenched in the stuff and his hair tangled with it. His hands and feet twitch uncontrollably, and I watch as he bends forward in what I’m sure is horrible pain. Sten sits beside him with a strong grip on my brother’s shoulder, and glances back at me when he hears my shuffling footsteps.
“How is he?” I ask.
“Not…well, but he’ll be alright,” Sten says. “Adrenaline poisoning. I haven’t seen it in nearly two hundred cycles.”
“I didn’t even know it was possible,” I say. “Especially for someone raised outside of the Skoll Wilds.”
“Neither did I,” Ryker grits out. “But when they tried to hurt her…well, I couldn’t stop myself.”
I kneel across from him, reaching out to take his hand. He’s shaking uncontrollably, but I know this will pass; adrenaline poisoning can leave one with somewhat of a hangover, but it’s rarely fatal. “What happened?” I ask. “Our contact was vetted with Cressida; he wasjuston Triton mere weeks ago.”
“He’s made an alliance with Calypso, Cressida’s sister,” Ryker says. “Xanthos…”
His fingers tighten around my hand until the pressure is near-crushing, but I don’t remark on it; I know he needs the relief of a friendly face more than I need a working hand. “But it was just Xanthos?” I ask. “No others?”
“One, but whoever they were, they’re dead,” he growls. “I wanted to kill the other one too, but there was no time, and he was too powerful…”
“I’m certain you’ll get your chance if he’s allied himself with Lamia,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You did well, brother. And I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this is good news; it means that the Empire as a whole is not unified against us. You’ve already eliminated a magister we may have had to face on the battlefield.”
“I would slay a hundred more for her,” Ryker says.
I smile, though something catches my eye at the sliding door out to the corridor. Orion leans against the threshold, watching us with interest. “I know, brother,” I say. “Sten–will you stay with him?”
Sten nods, and I haul myself to my feet to limp to Orion. The Mlok continues to stare at Ryker, his tail twitching and his frill flared slightly outward.
“So…we made a mistake,” I say quietly, glancing at Ryker. “You all could have been killed. Thank Yrsa you’re alright.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Orion says. “A calculated risk. There was never any doubt that we would get out of there.”
“We came close, though.”
“We’re engaged in an interstellar war; every move we make is a close call,” Orion says. “And I don’t think that Xanthos ever had any intention of working with us; he was hostile in our first meeting on Vehyris, and there were no other magisters present on Borealis besides the one that your brother mauled to death.”