He bowed his head, then took a step closer to his friends. “Look, I’m—” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Engle raised his eyebrows at him. Melda just stared.
“It’s too soon for another deadly adventure,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, though dread stirred in his stomach like an elixir in a cauldron. “And again, it’s my fault.”
Melda opened her mouth to argue, but Tor shook his head.
“It is. The Night Witch is gone because of me, and her death is the only reason the Calavera are able to invade Estrelle in the first place.” He looked down at the fish painted in silver on his arm. It glimmered in the sun, undeniably pretty. “This wish continues to haunt me…us. I regret it every day. Every day.” He met their eyes again. “I’m just—I’m just sorry.”
Engle planted a hand on his shoulder. “We know, Tor,” he said. He walked past them, to the book Vesper had set against the upper deck’s ledge—the Book of Seas. “You know, sea monsters are even more deadly than the monsters in Cuentos.” Engle had always been fascinated with monstrous creatures, which had been useful during their last journey. He thumbed lazily through the pages, then grinned. “How about we start with the one about the blood queen?”
The Blood Queen
Once, the sea turned gray. Its creatures fled to its depths, to escape the darkness that had raged through Emblem Island and taken the ocean’s blue color with it. A darkness that wished to destroy everything Emblem Island had been—and the future of what it might become.
But the mermaids suffered most of all. Unable to peek their heads up toward the clouds they once loved and soak in the colorful waters that had brought them such joy, some became sinister. Others perished.
Many magical creatures went extinct in those dark ages, unable to live in perpetual night.
When the evil finally passed, a single spark of energy remained. An ember of power, burning at Emblem Island’s heart.
The leader of the mermaids, Casamara, felt that spark. She knew if she could reach a drop of that power, she could save her kind. So she volunteered to go to land, knowing that once she did, she could never go back to the water. For a mermaid that leaves the sea can never return.
Casamara found the ember of power and brought a piece of it to her people, saving them. For years she lived in a cove on land, staring longingly at everything she had once loved, before dying of a broken heart.
Once ever century after that, a mermaid is chosen to make the same honorable trek Casamara had, to bring a bit of power to the sea. Most saw the sacrifice as an honor—but one mermaid, Mora, rejected the journey.
Still, against her wishes, the sea washed her ashore. Forever bound to land, Mora swore vengeance against the mermaids. She not only refused to bring the ember of power back to the sea… She took it for herself.
Mora’s lifeline extended to twice its previous length, and for two hundred years she lived in the same Cove of Casamara, bringing ruin to her former people. To keep her immortality, she made a deal with the Night Witch. In exchange for being the keeper of keys to the Night Witch’s curses at sea, Mora’s lifeline would lengthen for every person she killed.
So Mora became a blood queen, keeper of the ocean’s secrets and curses, and the deadliest of its creatures.
4
The Cove of Casamara
The Night Witch’s ship was fitted for a full crew. Below deck sat ten rooms, small, but ornately decorated, as if the witch herself had used them once. As soon as Tor entered his after a day of sailing, a candle ignited atop a richly carved nightstand. Cobwebs and dust clinging to the corners of the room fell away, the ship cleaning itself, and a fresh set of sheets appeared from thin air, unrolled themselves with a crack, then floated gently onto the bed. The ship was enchanted. Every inch of it.
Tor looked out the tiny rounded window. Waves crashed against the thick glass, then rescinded, only to return. He closed his eyes and could feel the boat—some part of him had melded with it. It was an extension of himself.
According to Vesper, they would reach the blood queen the next morning.
He swallowed, remembering her story. Just like the Night Witch, she gained power by killing others. How long had it been since travelers had happened upon her cove?
Would she kill them before they could get answers?
The ship lurched to the side, and a vase fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand sea glass pieces. Before Tor could stoop to clean them up, they vanished.
He needed to go to bed. He buried himself under the sheets, and the candle blew itself out.
With darkness came dreams.
And with Tor’s dreams came the Night Witch.
He had dreamt of her almost every night since their journey. She was dead, yet immortalized in his mind. It was always the same—the Night Witch smiling as dark power billowed out of her. Still smiling as she dug her nail into his palm. Then, the nightmare ended with the Night Witch plunging off the cliff, becoming a dozen birds, half dark and half bright.
This time, however, Tor’s dream was different.
This time, she spoke.
Her hair floated around her, as if she was submerged in water. They were both back in that cave on the cliff. The Night Witch looked almost the same as she had that day, yet slightly changed. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was slightly translucent. She smiled sadly. “I hope you remember what I told you, Tor Luna,” she said, voice deep as the depths of the sea. She took his hand and traced his lifeline. “He’s coming. They all are.”
She walked away, silk dress dragging behind her.
“Who’s coming?” he asked, his voice sounding far away. “How do I
