Chapter 30

chapter 30

Lizzie

We don’t form a more concrete plan before Maeve and I take our leave and head back to the room we rented for the night. The farther away from Siobhan’s captivating presence I get, the more I start to question what the fuck we’re doing.

Sure, Nox and I took out an entire ship’s worth of C?n Annwn, but Nox is a force of nature beyond understanding. Between my powers and their elemental magic, we were able to subdue a large number of people in a very short period of time. Siobhan is a shifter; she’ll be fierce as fuck in a battle, but it will be an out-and-out brawl instead of a mass disabling event.

Maeve could be hurt.

I’m so close to the jewels I’ve spent months hunting, and all I can think of is Maeve lying in that bed for two days as pale as death, her chest barely moving. I’ve spent my entire life being trained to think of my life as something both disposable and infinite. A dichotomy I’ve never questioned but one that made me fearless in fights.

It’s different now. I have something to lose. Someone to lose. If Maeve is hurt in this fight?.?.?.

I barely wait until the door is closed between us and the rest of the building before I turn on her. Maeve’s eyes are bright, and her mind is obviously moving a mile a minute as she thinks about tomorrow. I will do anything to ensure those eyes aren’t closed forever while chasing the ambition of some mysterious woman and the damned rebellion. “This is a mistake. Let’s get our shit and get out of here.”

Maeve stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll figure out another way. One that doesn’t involve you slamming your body repeatedly against a ridiculously hard surface and injuring yourself. Or battling a half fucking mermaid. I’ve heard the same stories you have. Lucky isn’t the same thing as a water horse, Maeve. If it was a matter of stealing back my jewels alone, then I could go in by myself and retrieve them before anyone knew I was there.” Probably. It would be simple enough to send the sentries into unconsciousness and slip past them. If there was a fight, it wouldn’t be with the entire fucking crew.

It’s an entirely different prospect to take Bastian back by stealth. They will have their strongest people watching the prisoner, especially if he’s as dangerous as Siobhan says. He must be. When she originally said he had glamour power, I thought of the humans I’ve met who can say the same. They are able to change their appearance, but not their physical form, and sometimes they can even charm their words a bit to soften someone to seeing things their way. But that’s it.

On the other hand, there’s an entire bloodline of vampires whose power is glamour. A single word from them is enough to stop even the most powerful predator in their tracks and make them helpless as a babe. That is dangerous. There’s a reason we don’t fuck with them unless we absolutely have to—and when we have to, we attack from long range. That bloodline is the reason I’m proficient in sniper rifles.

Impossible to glamour me into doing their will if they’re missing their head.

If Bastian’s power is anywhere in that vicinity, then he’s exactly as dangerous as the C?n Annwn believe. If his glamour works the same way that Wolf’s paramour’s does, then his guards will have him gagged. If they’re smart, they’ll have him gagged, blindfolded, and bound.

If the ship goes down, he’ll die.

“Lizzie.” Maeve steps to me and grasps my shoulders. “This might be our only chance to get your heirlooms back. It could be months or longer to track them down again, and if they go to Lyari, then they’re beyond our reach for as long as they’re there. No matter how powerful and formidable you are, the capital is filled with the C?n Annwn. It’s too dangerous to risk.”

I don’t give a fuck about my family heirlooms.

The thought shocks me. Ever since I realized Evelyn had them with her when she disappeared, retrieving those jewels had been the thing motivating every single one of my actions. Maeve is right. I should be frothing at the mouth to follow Siobhan’s orders just to get them back. I shouldn’t care if anyone’s hurt in the process. My mother would whip me for experiencing even a sliver of doubt, of hesitation.

But I do care. A whole fucking lot. More than I know how to put into words.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Maeve what happens if we just?.?.?. let them go. If we stopped hunting them. If we took a different route. I have no desire to settle down in some tiny selkie town, but Threshold is vast and filled with wonder. We could spend the rest of our lives traveling it.

Except that’s just another problem. I have the potential to live several of Maeve’s lifetimes. She will grow old and frail and eventually slip beyond my reach, while I will still be hale and hearty. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

What if I bit her? Not the bite of feeding but the bite of turning. Bloodline vampires don’t make a habit of turning humanoid paranormals into vampires. A turned vampire is a different creature all together. They gain the life span and superhuman strength and speed, but none of the powers that come with being part of the bloodline. And their bite hurts rather than giving pleasure.

Still, it would mean she was alive.

“Lizzie,” Maeve says again. She squeezes my shoulders and gives me a tiny shake. “Even without your heirlooms in play, we cannot let the Council get their hands on Bastian. If he’s close enough to Siobhan for her to care if he lives or dies, then he’s privy to secrets that will cost a massive loss of life. More than that, they’ll become aware of the rebellion before we’re ready for them to know. It will be an all-out war. I don’t see how the rebellion can possibly win unless we have the element of surprise on our hands. We have to save him.”

“Or kill him.” That’s the simplest solution. It means the rebellion loses their glamour mage, but it prevents the C?n Annwn from getting access to his secrets.

She narrows her eyes. “I realize that murder is your default, but even without the risk of him falling into the Council’s hands, it cannot be overstated what a powerful tool he is. We need him.”

I knew she’d say that, but it’s not going to stop me from arguing. “How can you need someone who you didn’t know existed a few hours go?”

She sets her jaw in a stubborn angle I’m beginning to recognize. Maeve may bend when it comes to certain things, but the moment she digs in her heels, my chances of convincing her to see things my way diminish rapidly. Sure enough, when she speaks, her voice is clipped and angry. “I understand this isn’t a priority to you, but his existence can alter the course of the rebellion. Once you collect your family heirlooms, you’re leaving Threshold. You don’t have to continue to live in a world where we suffer every time a C?n Annwn crew feels like causing problems. If this man is vital to Siobhan’s plan, then we need him. It doesn’t matter if you think we do or not, because she thinks we do and therefore we will save him.”

That’s the problem with a cause. It makes martyrs of far too many people. It’s clear in every line of her body and the boldness in her tone that Maeve believes in the rebellion wholeheartedly. She doesn’t want to die, but she’s willing to if it comes to that.

I don’t understand what it’s like to believe in a cause so much that you’re willing to lay down your life for it. Survival is paramount. It’s the only rule of my existence, aside from serving my family. But those two things dovetail together, because for the family to survive, its members must survive. I don’t understand the urge to be a hero, and yet I keep finding myself in close proximity to people who possess it.

At the start of this conversation, I knew it was a long shot. For once, I wish I was wrong. “Even if I draw my line, you’re going with Siobhan to attack that ship, aren’t you?”

Maeve hesitates, and I can tell she doesn’t want to fight any more than I do, but she finally gives a short nod. “Yes. It’s too important not to. I understand that you don’t understand it—”

“I understand it. I just don’t agree.” I scrub my hands over my face. This is a fucking mess. If I was back home, I could at least call on an ally or two to weigh the scales in our favor. But here, my only allies exist on the Audacity, and according to Siobhan, that ship is too far away to be of assistance.

“You don’t have to do this,” Maeve says softly. “I know this isn’t your fight.”

If she keeps saying things like that, I might scream. It’s not my fight, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m invested despite myself. Not because I believe in the rebellion, though even I can see that the C?n Annwn are a detriment to this realm. If I was stuck in Threshold without Maeve at my side, I would content myself with hunting them quietly in ways that can’t be traced back to me. I wouldn’t start a fucking rebellion.

But Maeve’s already in this up to her neck—which means I am, too. The thought makes me dizzy. The realization of just how much I care for her washes over me. Not care. This sickness inside me, this feeling that’s both giddiness and dread, can only be one thing: love. What a fucking disaster.

“Fine. We’re doing this. We’ll meet up with Siobhan tomorrow and go over the details one last time, and then we’ll attack as they make anchor in the bay. Satisfied?”

Maeve looks anything but. She stares at me with confusion in her inky eyes. “I don’t understand you sometimes. Why put yourself at risk for something you don’t believe in?”

I could lie and tell her the only reason I’m agreeing to a plan that’s just this side of suicidal is because I want my family heirlooms back. It’s not the truth. It hasn’t been the truth for some time now. And it feels wrong to lie to her.

It’s like I don’t even know myself anymore.

I drag in a breath. “I’m not going to let you get yourself killed in service of some cause. Rebellions tend to value the benefit of the many over the survival of the individual. They love a fucking martyr.” Even saying the words makes my chest go tight. “It’s incredibly incentivizing. A name to scream as they charge into battle, wasting their lives just like the martyrs do. Well, fuck that. You aren’t going to be a martyr. I won’t allow it. You’re going to live a long, happy life, godsdamn it. If I have to kill every single threat that comes into your sphere, then so be it. But I will see it happen.”

Maeve’s lips part, her rosebud mouth forming a perfect O. She blinks rapidly. I’m horrified to see her eyes go damp with unshed tears. “I care about you too, Lizzie. A lot,” she whispers. She gives herself a little shake and eases back. “I don’t want to become a martyr. I promise I won’t take any unnecessary risks during this process.”

I don’t believe her for a moment. This is the woman who battled a water horse to save me. A creature that, by all rights, should have ripped her to pieces. But she didn’t care. All she was thinking about was keeping me alive—not of the risk to herself.

That’s exactly what she’ll do when the ship comes. She’ll dive into the fight without worrying about watching her back. She’ll rip herself to pieces as long as the Crimson Hag goes down.

“I’ll be there to ensure you don’t.” I close the new distance between us and cup her face with my hands. “No one will touch you, Maeve. I swear it.”

“Lizzie.” She gives a laugh that almost sounds like a sob. “You’re terrified of the water. I can’t ask you to be in the depths with me.”

Her speaking my deepest shame almost unravels me. It’s something I’ve tried very hard to cover up, to shield, to pretend doesn’t exist. But it’s the truth. I am afraid of the depths. It’s impossible to be an apex predator when at such a disadvantage. “It doesn’t matter. A promise is a promise, and I promise to keep you alive.”

Her bottom lip quivers the tiniest bit before she makes a visible effort to still it. “I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.” She sets her hands on my hips, her fingers pulsing. “I just want you. The risk and danger and everything will be waiting for us in the morning, but tonight, all I want is you.”

She’s all I want, too. Not for a single night. Not for a series of hours that will have no chance of sustaining me. I want her forever. But now isn’t the time to say as much. It feels too much like confessing your love before riding off to die in battle. It’s not my style.

So instead, I start backing her toward the bed. “You have me, Maeve. I’m right here. Take me.”