A small contingent of Olav's guards raced up to Ro and stood around her in a circle. Meanwhile, the sailors cursed and shouted.

"What the fuck was that?" one called.

Rina's sluggish mind assumed they referred to Ro capturing the girl. Then she realised it couldn't be that. In Amadore, the Magisterium had demonstrated their capacity for such power.

She leaned on the edge of the Crystal Queen and took in the scene below her, noticed the way the Denese prisoners slumped on the jetty, one dangling over the gangplank, unmoving piles of flesh covered in homespun. Her hand lifted to the side of her head where she had hit it.

She did this. Ro did this. Without their permission. Without invoking the merciful will of Mai. Without... God's, she had used them—taken from them. Why?

The sailors grumbled. A young, sandy-haired sailor looked up to the poop deck, back to the prone bodies, and back again, his lips moving, eyes disbelieving. He wondered it too. No doubt the whole ship wondered.

Pure, clean energy flowed through the veins of the Magisterium. Everyone knew this. So why had a high magister taken unclean power from a Denese and used it to wield the Carnelian Way? Even more pressing, how had she done it?

The physical memory began to replay in Rina's body, her mind struggling to differentiate the past and present. Those invisible flaying claws. It merged with the dream from the night before with that person whose skin she had twice lain in. Nails slicing through skin, teeth puncturing, saliva pooling in her mouth, shudders rippling across her soul.

She vomited.

The world spun about her, moving back and forth like a hypnotists pendulum. Her knees wobbled. The edge of her vision narrowed like a piece of velum thrown in a fire, curling in upon itself, until blackness devoured it.

"Rina!" Dimly, she registered the pound of feet. Arms wrapped around her along with the familiar scent of spice and sweat. "God's, I'll kill the bitch!"

Fin hurried her to his room. When they got there, he poured rum down her throat, tucked her in the bed and stretched out beside her, not letting her go until the dark of dreams once again consumed her.

☆☽○☾☆

Rina didn't go below deck after that. The two other times they stopped to pick up "supplies" she stayed in Fin's quarters. Her mind and body ceased to be her own. Time developed a habit of blurring. One minute, she sat on Fin's bed, feet on the floor, the next, unseen talons ripped into her, snatching at her essence.

When the spells happened, bile surged up her throat, leaving it raw, dry and tasting of vinegar. Even inane things made her flinch, but the worst time was after the noon-day meal, the tug at her chest that caused her mind to cease functioning. Mostly, her instinct kicked in, and she slammed down the inner gate, but sometimes she was too slow, and she lost time, waking up on the ground, shuddering.

But she couldn't stay indoors—the walls pressed too tightly about her. After a few days holed up inside, she begged Fin to take her out, to sit beneath the moons with the night air on her skin and the wind combing her hair.

Though his duties kept him up late, Fin always made the time to do this. Each night, for an hour or so, they lay upon the poop deck on a woollen blanket and traced the constellations. And on two other occasions, when they anchored a night at remote port towns, he took her ashore, walked with her down the beach, her sea legs stumbling.

As they moved further from the vessel, the sense of wrongness lessened. Something was wrong with Ro. The woman was twisted. Rina never expected to think so of a Magister—some were cruel, true—but taking someones élan vital against their will—using it. That was sick.

Fin's presence helped her through this time when the world tilted on its axis. Everything appeared a little slanted, the light hitting it an odd angle, giving it a strange, not-quite-right hue. Her innate desire to represent her people and show Mai they could be trusted warred with the realisation that, just perhaps, Pietro and her parents might have been right.

The Crystal Queen continued to snake along the coast, slithering closer to Nebia. As it did, Fin moved his receiving room to the bowels of the ship, checked in on her through the day, oversaw the treatment of the Denese—chosen and prisoner alike—and fought the downward pull of swollen eyelids. He held her when she woke from the nightmares that stripped her bare. Reminded her the world could become a better place. During this time, she never saw Olav, only Fin and his kind purple eyes. By the time they arrived in Nebia, she had begun to forget her friend. 

★☾●☽★

A/N:

Thank you again for reading—please forgive the short chapter part. I would love to hear what you thought about this update—positives, negatives, and everything in between. Thank you again for forgiving any plot holes and inconsistencies. I have developed a daily target to give me enough time to go back and do some major editing before the Wattys. Anything you give me is invaluable. 

Some exciting news: The Carnelian Way won its first Wattpad awards! First place in Fantasy and third place in Lead Female Character in Shadow City Awards. The judge gave some very helpful comments, too, about Rina—clarifying some of my concerns (see, I love constructive criticism). 

Anyway, thank you again. Please don't forget to hit that star!