The Girl Who Belonged to the Sea by Katherine Quinn

Chapter Forty-Seven

Margrete

Margrete screamed into the night,the sound coarse and broken and full of rage.

Rage at Malum.

A boiling anger that simmered in her blood and set her vision red.

The serpent had been pummeled below the waters, Bash along with it. Neither had resurfaced.

She lifted her gaze to Malum’s.

His eyes were blue, clearer than any precious gem. Otherworldly.

“Save him!” she roared, teeth bared and hands clenched. She dropped the oars, and the wood thudded to the bottom of the boat. Her arms were sore from her strenuous rowing, and blisters opened her palms. Rain drenched her from head to toe, her long hair a tangled crown around her head. She’d pushed her body to the brink, both mentally and physically, and now she was teetering on the edge, one foot hanging over the side of the cliff.

She dared call his name. “Malum!”

The winds devoured the sound of her voice, but she knew he heard her, knew he could taste her bitter anguish.

The God of the Sea towered over her—well over ten feet tall—and water danced along his massive calves. He glanced down to where Bash had been hauled under, and a thoughtful look washed across his slick face. Then he lifted his head.

Their eyes locked, the world around them forgotten.

She whispered now. “Please.” A single tear glided down her cheek, mingling with the rain.

A heart for a heart, was all he said, his voice soft against the edges of her mind.

Margrete nodded, choking on a sob.

He was going to save him. He would rescue Bash, and all it would require was something she didn’t even want—the heart of a god.

Malum cupped his palms and lifted them to his chest. His full lips moved soundlessly as he spoke, uttering words she knew didn’t belong to mortals.

Margrete gripped the longboat. The waters were parting, moving, whirling. They spun and roiled and swayed…

After what seemed like an eternity, a head of auburn emerged from the depths, and the king of Azantian’s body was lifted above the sea, his legs dangling.

His eyes were wide.

Margrete released the air in her lungs in a painful rush as more tears fell, though these were borne of joy. He hadn’t drowned. Malum saved him before he’d been taken from her.

He lives, little one, Malum said. Now I need what I am owed. I will destroy—

Bash was knocked from the air, tossed back into the waves like a rag doll. Margrete cried out, flinging herself precariously close to the waters that splashed over the sides of her vessel. She searched for the top of his head, for the deep russet of his hair, not even sparing the God of the Sea a glance.

“Margrete!”

She turned, chasing the voice that would forever find her. There. Bash was floating, rocking on the waters to her left, treading water.

Margrete turned back to Malum.

The god was no longer there.

She skimmed the surface of the waves for any sign of him, but only the rippling blue and black stared back. She settled into position and swiftly picked up the oars, dipping the paddles and rowing toward Bash.

She couldn’t think of where Malum had gone. It was taking everything she had to get to Bash.

Margrete was nearly upon her king when a great wave pummeled her boat. It came out of nowhere, so fierce, so impossibly strong, that it shattered the wood and broke the vessel in half with a sickening crack.

She was flying…and then, just as suddenly, she was falling, plummeting. Margrete struck the water with enough force to steal her breath, and her arms flailed as she clawed at the water. Panic robbed all else, and there was only the need to stay above, to not succumb to the depths that would end her life.

Margrete’s hand landed on one half of the broken boat, her chest heaving as she pulled herself over the side. The wood dug into her stomach, and she gasped, sucking in air, cursing herself for never learning how to swim. It would be her ruin.

Wiping hair from her eyes, she turned her attention ahead, to where two immortal bodies collided like thunder.

A mass of black and gray crashed into the figure she knew to be Malum.

The clouds of gray morphed, turning into arms and legs. Margrete watched as the other entity, Darius, made himself whole. Golden hair, a compliment to his tanned body, crowned his head, the strands appearing to be spun of pure sunlight and silk. She could feel him, hear his velvety voice even now, as he turned her way. A silver mask embedded with crushed opals covered the upper half of his face, though she glimpsed a pair of eyes that were the color of the clearest seas.

Darius broke contact and twisted back to face his foe. He wound his arms around Malum’s neck, his brother’s movements sluggish as he struggled.

Margrete imagined that the centuries trapped in the ravine had weakened him and that the chains around his neck weighed him down. She understood what he’d given away when he gifted Azantian with his heart.

His recklessness would be the reason for his death.

Darius grasped the ends of a thick chain, and a bolt of lightning struck as he released a growl. His hold tightened, and the metal dug viciously into Malum’s throat.

Thunder shook the world hard enough for Margrete’s bones to rattle, and the skies opened to allow violent rain to fall, the drops forceful enough to bruise.

This was no ordinary storm.

“Give in!” Darius bellowed, forcing the chains deeper into his brother’s throat. They were both suspended in the air, the rushing waters reaching up to graze their divine forms.

Malum shook his head, and his hands went to his neck to tug on his shackles. He hissed just before Darius drove them under the water, moving as swiftly as the lightning that broke the night.

“Margrete!”

She turned at the sound of her name to find Bash swimming over to her, his arms threading through the water with power and ease. “Stay where you are!”

As if she could move if she wanted to.

Bash closed the distance between them, panting as he struggled to stay afloat. He was alive, but staying underwater for so long had clearly cost him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a thing of misery. “Why did you come here?”

Margrete would have laughed at the anger in his tone if they weren’t on the precipice of death.

He grabbed for her hand, steadying her trembling fingers. The air was unusually cold, and she realized then that she was shaking.

“I-I had to get y-you,” she stuttered, her lips quivering. “So that I could k-kill you myself, you fool.” She let out a choking laugh, and her insides warmed when a smile graced his face.

The hand around hers tightened. “I couldn’t let you stay on that ship, and I had to slay the serpent before it devoured everything in its path. I couldn’t watch…I couldn’t watch you die.”

Margrete swallowed hard, ready to berate him for risking his life, when a resounding boom drowned out all sound.

The brothers shot through the air, straight up from the waves, their muscled arms and legs a blur as they fought. Darius still maintained the upper hand, but Malum wasn’t giving up.

When Malum delivered a punch that sent his brother flying, Margrete’s lips twitched into a hopeful smile.

But Darius was already back on his feet, floating across the waves toward his brother.

He paused halfway to peer over his shoulder, and those piercing blue eyes caught hers even as she bobbed up and down on the ocean. Margrete gasped as he smiled, his lips curling into something wicked. The mask shielded the rest of his face, but she could see his sinful delight well enough.

I’m coming for you next, darling.

The words whispered across her thoughts, phantom hands seeming to reach out and graze her mind. She could sense him everywhere—Darius breaking through her mortal barriers with ease. That smile of his flourished, and then he was turning back to his brother.

“This is madness,” Malum roared. “Haven’t you had enough after a thousand years? Isn’t it time we end this?”

Darius laughed, the sound like a purr. “Oh, yes. I do believe it is time we end this once and for all, dear brother.”

One moment Darius was fifty feet away from Malum, and in the next, his muscled frame was colliding against his twin’s. The two immortals crashed together and erupted in an explosion of devastating light.

Margrete gripped Bash’s hand as the gods drew closer. Darius held Malum’s chains, though this time, he twisted his brother to face Margrete and Bash. A devilish gleam sparked in his inhuman eyes as he pulled the shackles taut. Malum’s face contorted as his skin turned a sickly shade of blue, and then Darius let go—

His twin’s body plummeted to the water, shattering into wisps of light and sea foam.

Darius turned once more to where Margrete clutched Bash. His sights were now set on the king, and his eyes glowed silver, fizzling with sparks of electricity. He smiled.

And then Darius released the remainder of his power.

Directly onto Bash.