Chapter 12

There's a stranger in my shiel. He's still here, very much real and present, and he's doing pushups on the floor beside the bed.

Sweat coats Acker's back, his muscles contracting with the controlled motions. He finishes his set and sits back on his knees, drawing my attention to the way his muscles pull taut with each breath. Rest and hydration have done his body well.

The past two days come into clear focus as the fog of sleep dissipates. "What time is it?"

"Early morning. The sun will be up within the hour."

I gape at him. That means I slept for…over fifteen hours.

He swigs from my waterskin and points. "There's food."

Stew and a torn-in-half bread roll sit on a tray at the foot of my bed. On cue, my stomach grumbles, and I drag the food into my lap. I shovel a spoonful into my mouth.

Tension fills the space. It's not that Acker looks particularly perturbed by yesterday's events, body on full display as he stands and leans against the wash table, but I can feel the judgment rolling off of him.

"Thanks for saving some." Impressive considering the level of hunger he's been contending with.

"We can call it even. "

"Cold soup as payment for saving your life," I say, lifting a brow. "When you put it in perspective, couldn't you have at least saved the whole roll for me?"

He quirks a sardonic smile. "After hearing my captor profess his love for you? I would have rather died."

And there it is.

"I don't owe you or anyone an explanation," I say, standing to place my dishes outside my door for pickup. I notice a guard a story below, patrolling, and latch the door behind me.

He tilts his head to the side as we stand facing each other. "I saw the realization in your eyes. I know you know you're not Alaha. Does it not change anything?"

A shot of anger flushes my cheeks. "This is still my life. What is it you want me to do? Leave everything I know?"

He raises his voice, looking at me as if the choice is clear as day. "Yes!"

I shush him. "Grenadine will hear you."

He makes a face before whisper-shouting back, "Who's Grenadine?"

"My neighbor, you moron. And there are guards on patrol."

He takes a deep breath, speaking softer. "These people took you from your home, from your mother."

A headache begins to thunder behind my eyes and the room begins to spin. I fall onto my bed, placing my palms against my forehead in an effort to stifle the pounding.

He scrubs a hand along his jaw. "What do you know about the history of Alaha's exile?"

"Your people—" I stop myself, shaking my head in frustration. It takes me a moment to continue. "The Kenta," I amend, looking up at him, "didn't want to share their resources and land anymore, so they exiled us to the sea."

"You know of Kenta, but there are many territories. Each is ruled by families who are chosen by Mother Nature, if you are to believe in such a thing, and given gifts as a reward for taking care of the land and its people."

"Gifts," I say, looking up at him. "As in…"

"Magic," he says.

I laugh, but the steely hold of his gaze stops it from fully forming. "Magic isn't real."

He cocks his head to the side, eyes roaming my room with judgment in his eyes. "How would you know?"

It's an effective argument to shut me up.

Reclining against the side of my bed, he braces an arm over a knee. "The Alaha were gifted the natural ability of influence, meant to provide comfort to the fearful or calm to the vengeful, a gift designed to prevent war and strife. But the leader of the Alaha used his gifts to benefit himself. He persuaded leaders to hand over their riches, casting their own lands into poverty, and he built armies fueled by rage against any who were able to withstand his persuasion. He conquered land after land after land."

"That's why we were shunned?"

He nods and looks over his shoulder at me. "That leader is who you know as Captain Wren."

I shake my head. "That's impossible. That would make him hundreds of years old."

"Three hundred and seventeen. The lifespan of an Heir is shortened by the distance from land, but it's normal to live well past a century or two. Someone as powerful as Wren could live for millennia."

"Heir?"

He opens his mouth only to snap it shut, teeth clenched as he shakes his head in answer. I suppose the oath somehow still clings to him a little.

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before trying again. "His power of influence knows no bounds. He can convince men of depraved things and women of undying love."

"And you think Wren is capable of these things?"

"Not him," he says.

Acker nods when I begin to shake my head.

"He would never do that to me," I say, adamant. "Kai doesn't even have magic."

He dips his head in answer. "He does."

"You said magic was gifted by Mother Nature, but how? She's not, like, a real entity."

"In many texts, she was once. There are stories of her passing her magic by blood to her loyal Heirs, but after she deemed her creation self-sufficient, she gave herself to the land to carry on through the generations to come."

"Other than at the Market, Kai's never been within an inch of land," I say in defense.

"When you touched the wall at the Market, he tried to compel me to let you go. His father was smart enough to smuggle a little bit of soil before he was exiled to have it on hand when his son came of age."

I reach for my boots to shove them on.

"It's the very soil he used when we created the blood oath," he continues. "Kai's power is weak, but it's there. He's been using it on you. For years, I believe."

I'm overtightening the laces of my boots with every angry pull. "You're wrong." Standing, I push past him to get to the wash bin to brush my teeth.

He follows close behind me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Training."

He scoffs. "You're wasting your time."

He's standing entirely too close to me, but I pretend it doesn't bother me. "And why's that?"

"Because Wren believes women have their place, and it's at his feet."

"Kai would—"

"—never do that to me."

I spit into the sink and spin to face him. "You have a lot of nerve."

"At least I have something. Better than not having a backbone."

I react without thinking, my hand poised to strike him in the face before I realize, but he catches it before I make contact.

"Let go of me!"

He shushes me. "Grenadine is right next door, remember?"

Now I'm seething. "The Matching Ceremony is in two days. It'll be the best time to commandeer a boat without anyone noticing. And then afterward, we can forget we ever met."

The grip he has on my wrist tightens as he pulls me closer. "If you think I'm going anywhere without you, you're mistaken."

Our bodies are inches apart, his scent filling my lungs. It's nothing I can put a name to but masculine in every way. Heady, almost. Something akin to a genuine smile tugs at his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth. I force myself to meet his eyes, but it kind of feels like staring at the sun.

"You're delusional if you think I'd go anywhere with you."

His eyes skim down my body, assessing. "I'll hogtie you if I have to."

I rip myself from his grasp. "Then be prepared to fight, because I'm not going down in a sinking ship."