18. Zendaya

Chapter 18

Zendaya

A ship bobs on the Amkhuti which the queen and the Akwale have filled once more. And not just halfway, but to the very brim. The limpid water that abuts the stone is smooth like a mirror, casting the illusion that one could step onto it without falling through.

As the guards load trunks onto the vessel, I stand on the rocky cliff turned shore beside my grandmother whose face looks carved out of the same sunstone as her land this morning. Although the skin around her eyes isn't rimmed with fatigue, the shadows are there, crowding her expression, reddening her irises, ruffling the skin around her lids and mouth.

I try to locate a shred of excitement for this trip that I've longed to take since I learned there was a world beyond Shabbe's walls, but the emotion filling me isn't warm and light; it's cold and heavy and sits atop my chest like a boulder.

I don't think I've taken a proper breath since I woke up drenched and gasping for breath, clutching at my chest, convinced a sword protruded from my scales. Not only was I not in Serpent form, but also no weapon had sliced through my white gown. What stuck the silk to my skin wasn't blood, but perspiration.

Though my heart had raced for some time after rousing, I'd flopped back onto my pillow, the words not real clinging to my trembling lips. The scene had been a product of my imagination. A— what had Fallon called it? —night terror. One made of the images my grandmother and Behati had shown me the day before.

A shudder races up my spine and clacks the ivory inside my mouth as I picture the slaughtered serpents again. Another shiver follows suit when I picture the mate I'm about to meet. And yet another tremor racks my body when I recall the aggrieved shock and fierce hurt that warped Cathal's features when I asked him to keep our past in the past.

I curl my fingers until my nails bite crescents into my skin. I suddenly don't want to leave the safety of Shabbe's walls. I don't want to meet a stranger. I take a step back. "No go."

The queen pivots her stare off the large auburn ship that bears the Shabbin crest of two golden serpents, complete with tusks created in mother-of-pearl.

I shake my head, which shakes my body. Or maybe my body hasn't stopped shaking since I awakened. "I no ready."

The queen's black eyebrows lower. "What changed?"

"No want die." I say, even though that's only one reason. Granted, a good one.

"EmMoti, no one will harm you." She catches one of my fists and forces my fingers to open to wind hers through. Once she succeeds, she squeezes our palms together.

"But you say Faeries hate serpents. I Serpent, Taytah."

"No one knows this but us."

I blink in surprise, but then realize this isn't the truth. "Many Crow know."

"Lorcan has sworn his people to secrecy."

I try to step back. Her grip around my fingers tightens. Here I thought she'd been offering me comfort, when actually, she's holding on so I cannot race back into the palace. "Why you want me go now?"

"Because that is your destiny."

My skin coats in tiny bumps. Did Behati tell her about the vision, or did the Mahananda inform her?

"Although I would've preferred for the Mahananda to let you steer your heart, I'm not surprised it has found you a mate, for you are a shifter, and that is the way of shifters."

I've stopped shaking, but not because my shock has lessened. The tremors have stopped because the cold has spread and hardened me like ice.

"I know how alone you've felt, Daya. Perhaps that is why the Mahananda chose your mate."

"I no alone. I have Fallon and you, Taytah." I also have Cathal. Well…I had him. I very much doubt he'll want to remain my friend after the way we parted.

Maybe if the Mahananda found him a new mate also… The thought is a fiery burst against the ice, one that keeps burning long after it's thawed me. What is this emotion? Why does it make my jaw clench and my heart ache?

"Fallon has Lore, and I have Shabbe," Priya is saying. "You need someone who's wholly yours."

I squint at the sky with its blistering midday sun. This must be why I feel like I'm gloved in flames. Because I'm not used to being out during the day. A violent splash carries my attention back to the Amkhuti and to the scales whitening the glassy surface with foam. I spy yellow ones, but also blue and purple and orange.

Although no water droplets sprinkle my skin, the fire ravaging me snuffs out, leaving behind trenches of cold ash. Though the serpents' show is mesmerizing, it is also—and especially—painful, for it thrusts my loneliness deep.

As deep as the dream sword plunged through my chest.

My skin prickles with the need to slip into scales, but I force my Serpent away, sensing that if I jumped in, I'd spook the others. Until I learn their tongue and their ways, I will stay an outcast. But what if I can't learn their tongue and ways?

Cathal said shifters cannot communicate with the species they were molded from. Until I have a babe, I will be alone. This must be why the Mahananda picked a mate for me: to aid me in creating a small version of myself.

Fallon's face swims before my eyes. To think that she was mine before becoming Lorcan's. If only she could've been mine after the Mahananda turned me into a shifter. Perhaps then, she could've taken my shape instead of her father's.

As though Cathal sensed my thoughts, he appears, not in skin but in feathers. Admittedly, it could be someone else, someone tasked to escort us to Lorcan's realm. Though why would a vessel filled with seafaring, bloodcasters require an escort?

Shabbin females, according to what I've cobbled together, are the most feared people in the realm, because they hold the most power. Crows come second. Faeries next. Then humans. Where does a lone female with a magical tongue end up on this pyramid of power? With her fellow shifters, or somewhere between human and Faerie?

The Crow glides over the ship, casting it in full shadow since his wingspan is as broad as the vessel is long.

"We are ready to embark, Sumaca." Abrax's voice tears my gaze off the sky.

I wondered where he was when I didn't see him amongst my guards this morning. He must've been getting ready for the voyage. Though the male's eyes aren't colored by blood magic, he has a sword which, according to Asha, he's terribly good at wielding. I imagine she's watched him train, or maybe even trained with him. I hear some female guards study swordfight since sigils take concentration and time to draw. Unless she knows how Abrax fights because she's watched him fight off an enemy? Do the Shabbins have enemies within their walls? Besides my mother, that is.

I look over my shoulder at the palace with its eight wings shaped like flower petals. Is the female who made me before unmaking me imprisoned in one of them? "Where keep Meriam, Taytah?"

"Somewhere she cannot reach you, emMoti."

"But here, in Shabbe?"

"Yes."

This time, when the queen leads me closer to the smooth wood that glows amber as though lit from within, I offer no resistance. The world beyond the sandstone walls may scare me, but suddenly, the idea of being trapped on an isle with a murderess frightens me far more.