and, with a horrible, twisting motion, ripped it away.
Harsh, blinding light burned her to ash. Nico fell with a scream, eyes slamming open. She was back on the beach, lying in the sand with Eli standing over her. He was panting like he’d just run a marathon and his hands were gripping the black cloth of her coat, which he’d just torn down.
She blinked at him, confused. “What happened?”
Eli glanced at something beside her. “Looks like you won.”
Slowly, painfully, Nico turned her head. Den’s face lay a foot from her own, his dead eyes open and staring into hers.
“I won,” she whispered.
“You did,” Eli said, reaching toward her with her coat. “Now let’s try to help you survive it.”
Nico looked at him in confusion, and then, hesitantly, she glanced down at her body. Her eyes widened. She was covered in a slick, black liquid. The stuff oozed like hot tar, but it smelled coppery, and it was oozing out of her. Nico’s breath caught in what was left of her chest. It was blood, black blood. Her black blood.
With a choked scream, Nico started to scramble away on instinct only to find she couldn’t. Beneath the tarry slick of her blood, her arms were twisted and broken. So were her legs. She looked like a little ink-filled doll dropped from a great height and shattered on the stone. She didn’t even feel pain as she stared at what the demon transformation had left of her body, not at first, and not for the next several seconds. But once it came, it consumed her. Shaking uncontrollably, she fell into the sand, gasping against her panic-frozen lungs as Eli knelt beside her.
She tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Eli wouldn’t have heard her anyway; he was focused on her limbs. A blinding crack of pain hit her as he pulled them straight, wrapping each one as fast as he could with her coat. She focused on his face as she fought to stay conscious, trying not to think about why he looked so pale and scared.
“Josef is going to kill me,” Eli muttered, pulling her coat tight.
That was the last thing Nico heard before the awakened cloth of her coat crawled over her face and she sunk at last into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER
22
The sun hung low over the island as the Oseran ships came around. The fleet was looking ragged. Every runner had arrows peppering its side. Many had dead rowers, struck by a lucky shot, and all the sailors were exhausted. Their tiny supply of clingfire was long gone, but three palace ships were now floundering in the blue water. The first was nearly completely under, her sailors streaming off in lifeboats, which the runners harried whenever they could. The second was burning merrily while the third was taking on water through an enormous gash in its side. Josef had just ordered the flagship to circle back for another strike when his captain shouted, “Sire!”
Josef looked to see the dour old sailor grinning like a boy as he pointed to a thin line of red-tinted signal smoke cutting the evening sky over the beach. Josef lurched forward, rocking the boat as he leaned into the water. Sure enough, the sharp tip of the coral ledge was now clearly visible below their keel.
“We did it,” he said, falling back with a grin.
Behind him, the captain began to laugh.
They’d done it. It hardly seemed possible, yet the proof was right below them. They’d sunk only three ships out of a fleet of thousands, but it’d been enough. They’d held the Empress’s palace ships over the reef for the two hours they’d needed. Now the tide was rushing out as they watched, bringing the deep-running palace ships ever closer to the rocks below.
“I wouldn’t believe it if you told me!” the captain shouted, slapping his king on the shoulder. “We did it! Thirty minutes until this whole strand is nothing but ten feet of surf over coral. Those big hulkers won’t even be able to turn around before they run aground.”
“Give the signal,” Josef ordered, laying the Heart on the deck beside him. “We’re going home.”
A whoop went up from the sailors, and they leaped into action. The ship jerked as the sail swung around, forcing Josef to duck or be conked in the head. He didn’t mind. The moment he’d released the Heart, the exhaustion hit him. He collapsed gratefully on the deck, savoring the wonderful feeling of being flat. Although his body was sending him strong signals it never wanted to move again, he reached up one last time, grabbing the edge of the ship and hauling himself up for a look at the rapidly approaching shore. The crescent beach of the bay was shrouded in shadow as the sun sank behind the mountain, but there was still enough light for him to see what was there. Or, more worryingly, what wasn’t.
There was no sign of Den, or Nico. The sand was sundered, and even this far away he could see the dark patches left by blood. Blood, but no bodies.
“What was that, sire?” the captain said.
“I said go faster,” Josef grunted, falling back to the deck.
“Yes, sire,” the captain said. “Fast as we can.”
Josef nodded and lay still as the narrow flagship raced home across the retreating blue water.
The bay filled as the runners returned. Of the ninety-five ships, eighty-two had made it back. A far better number than Josef had expected, and mostly due to the runners’ speed. The Oseran archers simply hadn’t been able to keep up. All around him, men were hopping from ship to ship, hugging and shouting in joy as they roped in.
Josef’s captain steered the flagship away from the crowded docks, beaching it instead. Josef hopped out the second they scraped bottom, sloshing through the water to the beach as he made a beeline for the narrow stair leading up the storm wall. Those sailors already on the beach moved respectfully out of his way, whispering in awe. Any other time, this change would have made him self-conscious, but now Josef was too preoccupied to notice. He reached the top of the storm wall and ran for the watchtower, throwing open the heavy door and climbing the stairs three at a time. Eli met him on the second landing.
Josef pushed straight past him. “How did it go?”
“Den got the worst of the fight, if that’s what you’re asking,” Eli said, keeping right on his heels.
“This isn’t the time to be clever,” Josef growled. “Did she win?”
“Well, Den’s dead,” Eli said. “So is Tesset. Nico is alive, for the moment.”
“If she’s alive, she’s staying there,” Josef said firmly. “She’s a survivor.”
“I’m well aware of your confidence in her unkillability,” Eli said. “But you really should listen a moment before you barge—”
Josef slammed open the door to the observation room and stopped cold.
“—in,” Eli finished, coming to a stop beside him.
Josef said nothing. He just stared.
“I did all I could,” Eli said softly. “But I’m not a doctor, and I couldn’t get the actual doctors near her without her coat going on the defensive. I don’t even know what happened in that fight. I’ve seen a lot of bloodied people, mostly you, but I’ve never seen injuries like—”
His voice dropped off as Josef moved away. Josef crossed the room and fell to his knees beside the small, black bundle lying on the floor against the wall.
Nico was completely wrapped in her coat, cocooned like a caterpillar. That much was normal after a big fight. What wasn’t normal was the dark pool of thick black liquid seeping into the floor beneath her. Josef swallowed. Slowly, gently, he reached out, brushing the wet cloth with his fingers. The coat twisted away from his touch with a sound that reminded him of hissing, but the sound stopped as Nico’s small, pale hand emerged from the coat’s folds, her thin fingers reaching for his.
Josef gripped her hand, sucking in a breath when he saw the black stains on her nails. Her pale skin was mottled black and purple, and he could see the beginnings of larger wounds on her arm before it disappeared into her coat. A long, burning stab of guilt cut through him, and Josef winced, opening his mouth before he realized he had no idea what to say. He sat there a moment, clutching her fingers as he searched for the words.
