Wicked Path (The Daath Chronicles Book 2) (30 page)

rops of rain startled me awake. I’d forgotten where I was until Lucino hugged me. At some point during our rest, we had slid closer to one another.

I opened my mouth trying to drink in every raindrop. My lips cracked from the suns, and my throat burned with thirst. The rain came slowly, but it was welcomed. I sat up and cupped my hands while drinking the falling drops. I let my hands fill with water, then drank from the small pool. Lucino quickly joined me.

We both smiled and laughed in the rain. My stomach filled with water, and the pain in my head dulled. I didn’t care my clothes were wet, or that soon I’d be cold. We would live another day.

“Lucino!” Panic replaced joy as I realized the suns were setting. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s not diving, none of them are…”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Deep bass sounds from the whales harmonized around us. It was difficult to forget the danger we were still in. Their voices spoke in lows, and I wondered if they understood our predicament. Grandfather said blues were intelligent creatures. Were they protecting us?

The rain stopped and I lay on my back, gazing up at the painted sky, imagining how beautiful it must look filled with stars.

“My grandfather told me as long as stars fill the night, you can always find your way home.”

Lucino perched on his elbow, his body facing mine. “Stars have been a guide to me since I went on my first hunt.”

“Do we see the same stars?”

Our eyes met and an unspoken emotion, both longing and curious, ran through me. I wanted to see his stars.

“No,” he said.

He rubbed the blue, his hand inches from mine. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch him.

The sounds of the whales singing their life chorus, and the waves gently crashing against one another mingled into beautiful music.

“Are we going to die?” I asked.

“It’s not our time.” He ran a finger against my skin. “You’re cold,” he said in a husky voice.

I moved my body closer to his. “Just a little.”

He slid against me, wrapping his arm around my waist. My body nestled against his, and I breathed in his winter scent. With my head resting against his chest, the thump of his fast heart patted against my cheek. Was it fast because of me, or was he afraid of what would happen next?

I don’t want to die.

Fear threatened to give me tears, and I closed my eyes, pretending we were back in Daath at the sacred grotto.

“Jeslyn.” He sat straighter, and pointed. “Do you see that?”

I opened my eyes and followed his finger to where glowing pink dotted the waters. I scrambled to my feet, balancing myself. “Land!”

Lucino stood beside me. “Land? Are you sure?”

I bounced on my feet. “Yes. Those are a special type of plankton that glow at night. They wash up on shores. Grandfather told me about them when I was little. We should jump,” I said, “and swim there.”

Lucino stared ahead. I imagined his mind processing my words and creating a plan. He took our shirts that were lying on the whale, then removed his pants—I quickly turned my head.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a rope to tie us together.”

“That’s sensible.” I kept my eyes focused on the water. “How far do you think it is?”

“A knot or two. Distance is distorted out here. We could be swimming for a while.”

He tugged at my waist, looping the rope around it until it secured, then tied the end around his wrist, where he held it. “On my count.”

I nodded as we walked to the edge of the whale’s back.

“One… two… three.”

We plunged into the water, Lucino’s rope tugging me to the surface. In the sea, the big waves made it harder to see the luminescent lights. Both of us swam forward, the waves rolling us across the waters. The farther we swam, the farther the island seemed. My muscles ached, and water forced its way into my mouth with each breath.

“We’re closer,” Lucino said in between strokes.

I couldn’t respond, fearing if I lost my focus, I wouldn’t be able to continue swimming. I wasn’t athletic like my brother, but working on a farm did give me a bit of strength—strength I called on now.

The closer to the shore we came, the rougher the waves pushed me along. The tides were in our favor, but it was harder and harder to keep my head afloat.

Give me strength,
I prayed. I refused to die now.

“Ride the waves to shore.” Lucino turned his head. “Here comes a big one.”

The sea rolled toward us.
Ride the wave? How do I ride a wave?

The wave came and Lucino started paddling. I mimicked him, stretched out my arms, letting the water lift me and take me to shore. My muscles were fatigued, and the burn twisted my stomach.

“Again!” Lucino yelled as another wave came to take us the rest of the way.

This one crashed us into the shore. I went under the water, spinning in a whirlwind of sand. The water retreated, taking me with it. I swam harder as my lungs screamed for air.

Lucino pulled the rope, lifting me out. I broke the surface with a gasp. Before another wave crashed, Lucino lifted me into his arms and rushed to the shore. His strong legs were like trees, firmly planted in the sand and unwavering from the rough waves. Once we were free of the sea, he placed me on my feet and untied the rope.

I collapsed onto the sand, digging my hands into it and closing my eyes.

Land.

We were finally safe.

hh-choo!”

Not again.
I shoved my head under the blanket.

“Ahh-choo!”

Number six. One more to go.

“Ahh-choo!”

Jonas had the strangest sneezing fits—always seven, and they were loud. His eyes would go wide, and his whole body would convulse forward. His nose must’ve gotten into something because he’d been sneezing on and off since he woke. No one else stayed in the shack with Jonas, even though there were other bunks. I guessed no one could sleep with his sneezing.

I threw the blanket off and swung my feet onto the floor, rubbing the grit out of my eye. Inside the tree, time was hard to tell. One of the workers marked the hour on a counter on the main level, but not seeing the suns rise and set unsettled me.

Jonas sat at the long table in the center of the room. I stood and stretched, looking at the carved figures he worked on. “What are those?”

“Woodlings. I make them from leftover wood.”

The one in his hand depicted a scene of two children playing on a swing.

“Those are good.” I leaned over, examining the more detailed lines. The children had faces with big smiles, and the swing had an intricate line of ivy running down the sides.

“People like to be reminded of the good things. With war upon us, everyone’s uptight.”

“War? What war?” I sat on the stool across from him.

“Everyone’s heard of the war. Where did you come from? The bogs?”

“I’ve been away for a while. Where I stayed, we don’t get many travelers.”

He took a metal instrument with a curved edge and scraped the wood in his hand. “The Nomad King is raising an army.”

“An army? Against who?”

“He plans to take the throne.”

Impossible. The Nomad King lived in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but sand and stone. The Purring destroyed the desert lands two hundred years ago, a place now inhabited by bandits and roamers.