In Deeper Waters F.T. Lukens (acx book reading txt) 📖

Tal hobbled over and sank slowly into the cushions, wincing as his joints protested. He’d never hurt like this before—his entire body was tender and bruised. He’d trained with the castle knights, fallen off horses, danced for hours at balls, and run through gardens while playing with his younger sister. But he’d never been subjected to repetitive manual labor as he had that day.

“Why didn’t you use your magic to complete the tasks?” Zeph asked around a mouthful of food. “It would have been easier.”

“I don’t have magic.”

“Pity.” She gulped her wine. “It would make your life here better. What’s left of it.”

“Which kingdom doesn’t want the alliance between Harth and Ossetia? Who would risk kidnapping me?”

Zeph’s fork scraped across her plate. “What makes you think that’s the reason?”

“You’re the one who mentioned the wedding.”

Zeph shrugged. “Maybe it’s to ensure the alliance goes through. Or maybe it’s to see what we’re all dealing with—another madman like King Lon or the soft, sickly prince your mother-queen has pushed to the rest of the world.” She pointed her fork at him, flinging bits of fish across her desk. “Maybe it’s to keep your dangerous magic away from Emerick so he won’t find out and dissolve the contract. It’s why your family sent you away before his retinue arrived, isn’t it?”

Tal narrowed his eyes. “It’s my coming-of-age tour of the kingdom. It’s our family tradition.”

“Convenient that the wedding was planned for the same time.”

Tal… hadn’t thought of it like that. Had his family scheduled it that way? Made sure he wouldn’t be around to jeopardize the alliance? No, no, they wouldn’t do that to him. He had to hold on to his faith in them. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and Zeph wanted to manipulate him. Poking holes in his confidence and making him question his family would be an easy way to break him.

“What do I have to do to return home?”

Zeph smiled, lacing her fingers together. “I’ve already told you—it all depends on you. Show us your magic and I’ll tell my employer, and he’ll determine what happens next. Resist, and you’ll stay here, working, until your family collects you or you die.” The cork popped when she pulled it from the bottle, and she poured herself another goblet. “It makes no difference to me. I get paid either way.”

“When my family comes, they’ll kill you.”

“They might try, but I’ll make a deal. I always do.” She returned to her dinner. “Have a good night, princeling. Rest well. You have another day of work tomorrow.”

Tal stood on shaky legs and let himself out onto the deck. He obediently followed Rot to the hold and into the steel cell, head down. His wounds itched and his body shook, but he stood until Rot had ascended the ladder to the crew’s quarters.

Once he was gone, Tal gave into the despair that haunted him. He collapsed to the floor and allowed the tears that had threatened all day to fall. As he curled into a ball and cried, he felt all the new physical hurts he’d accumulated, from his aching back and sunburned skin to his scraped knuckles and throbbing knees. His mind filled with the jeers and taunts of the crew and with Zeph’s questions about his family.

Were they looking for him? Or was this better? He wasn’t there to risk or ruin everything. They wouldn’t have to continue to lie for him.

He should never have left home. He should’ve stayed with Garrett and Shay in the tavern. He should’ve fought harder on the beach. He should’ve used his magic and escaped. He should’ve said good-bye to his sisters and brothers. He should’ve kissed Athlen in the cave.

Sniffling on the floor in the dark, Tal turned his head to the side and paused. Eye level with the deck, he could see something snagged beneath a crate. Squinting, he shuffled toward the metal slats. Was that a parchment? Sure of his solitude, he carefully opened his palm. A flame appeared, casting light and shadows as it danced above his skin.

Squirming closer, he could see it wasn’t parchment but cloth. The scrap of sail was tucked beneath a crate. It was badly damaged, but he could use it. He could send a message to his family!

Closing his fist, he extinguished the light. He reached his hand through the bars, his shoulder pressed hard into the steel slats. He gritted his teeth as his muscles strained and ached, but his fingers didn’t reach, not even close. Tears of frustration pricked behind his eyes, spilling over onto his already dampened cheeks.

He took a breath. He could do this. He had to do this.

Reaching within himself, he found his magic. Usually it came to him in the form of fire, but this time he begged for the force of will. He focused on the power and grabbed it, willing the cloth to come to him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please. Please. Please.”

The scrap twitched.

Letting out a breathless laugh, he focused, drawing his eyebrows together, face red from exertion, and he willed the sail to his hand. It tugged from beneath the crate and, in a sweep of wind, slapped into Tal’s palm.

He pulled it through the bars and clutched it to his chest. Giddy with hope, Tal smiled.

Spreading it out on the floor of his cell, Tal grasped the shark’s tooth in his pocket. The serrated edge would make a fine point, but he needed ink.

Gulping, Tal looked to his battered hands. One more wound wouldn’t make a difference. He pricked the tip of his finger with the shark’s tooth. A bead of blood welled out, and using the pointed edge of the tooth as a rudimentary quill, he pressed it to the cloth. He wrote.

Kidnapped. Deep water. Strong currents.

After the first few letters Tal squeezed his finger again, and after a few more he pricked the tip of another.

Continue wedding.

It wasn’t much, but it might give his family a starting