Why? Thump, thump, thump. Drum line in my ears.
He wiggles his fingers and they collide with the backs of mine. An accident? I twitch but make no effort to back away. “Because,” Ky says, “we’re not entering the Fourth as her guests at this point.”
I wait.
“I’m not sure what we’ll find in the Fourth, but we enter expecting the worst.” His voice changes key on “worst,” bordering on baritone. He looks at me then, and I turn my head, searching his eyes. His face. He seems to do the same with me as his Adam’s apple dips. “I don’t suppose I can ask you to remain here?” An arched eyebrow.
The tiny hairs on my hand—the one touching his—raise. I shake my head. I’m in this.
He nods. “Good. We need you. But be prepared. With the Threshold this low I can’t even guarantee the Fourth is where we’ll end up.”
I return his nod, and then, before I know what I’m doing, I entangle my fingers with his, squeeze his hand in silent thanks.
And there it is. There he is. That smile. The mischief behind those two-tone eyes. Ky is Ky. Not a trace of Joshua in sight.
Before the whole Kiss of Infinity-slash-mirrormark-slash-Verity’s vessel thing, I’d never been chosen for anything. Granted, I never cared when it came to sitting on the sidelines. Why whine about not getting picked to play PE soccer? More time to do homework at school, which meant more time with Mom—and later on, Joshua—at home. Back then, I’d rather write a report than participate any day.
But that was then. When I never knew what it was to be part of a team. To belong. To have people need me.
Is this what I’ve been missing?
My stomach is full and warm from Tide’s leftover chowder. But the comforting sensation doesn’t last as Streak and Flint work on opposite sides of the lifeboat to lower us into the sea. Some of the crew remain on board the ship. Normally we’d take the Seven Seas straight through the Threshold. I guess it sort of sucks the ship through and pops it out the other end.
I’ve only been through a Threshold once before, and the memory is hazy. I thought I was being dragged through from one side to the other, but was the Threshold actually propelling me? I wouldn’t be surprised, given the glowing green light that made the water seem alive. The light—I can only speculate—was a result of the Threshold’s source in the Verity.
I gaze through the stone arch and toward the stairs, searching for the same green light in this Threshold. Nothing. With each jerk of the boat my stomach drop, drop, drops and then settles as we hit the water with a splash. I’d much rather stay aboard our much safer and sturdier ship, but Ky explained it’s safer to leave it here until we know what we’re walking—i.e., swimming—into. I’m surprised Khloe isn’t remaining back as well. She’s just a kid. Surely she’d be safer if we left her here.
Sea sprays my back, squirts into my ears. I lift my arm and swipe at my damp cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve, burrow down into my hooded collar. Dimitri’s journal, wrapped in cords and thick plastic, presses against my rib cage. I couldn’t leave it behind. I need to know more about mirrorglass and, well, anything else that might aid us on our journey.
The boat rocks one way, then the other. It’s impossible not to lean against the person beside me for support, who just so happens to be Ebony. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, because she leans into me too.
Flint and Streak grab oars and row toward the stone stairs. Heave, lift, slap. Heave, lift, slap.
I should be terrified of what lies beneath those steps. But, strangely, a little thrill jolts through me the closer we get. Ky said they need me. Whatever we find in the Fourth, or wherever, we’ll find it together.
Seawater sloshes into the boat as the weather awakens. Clouds swirl and lightning blinks beyond the gray, though I can’t hear thunder above my pounding heart. My seat is now soaked, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be sopping in a minute anyway. The stairs aren’t for walking down. They’re simply a swimmer’s guide. In a larger body of water like this, I imagine it’d be easy to go off course once beneath the surface.
It takes longer than I expect to reach the stone arch. The air isn’t cold, but the water saturating my clothes makes it seem colder than it is. At least I changed into a hoodie and jeans. Not as if it makes much difference. Wet is wet, dress or not.
We pass beneath the arch, and the boat dips down a mini waterfall, the air shifting around us. I breathe in, relaxed by the scent of wood smoke drifting on the night air. I’m suddenly warm again. And dry. Blink, blink. Gasp. A hurricane-ready sky no longer looms above. Instead, thousands of twinkling stars dome the atmosphere, dot a Yankee-blue sky.
Joshua would love this, and not just because the sky’s color is reminiscent of his favorite baseball team. He loves stars. As long as I’ve known him, his gaze has never failed to drift skyward at night.
What would it have been like to be raised in the Second with him? Would we have played music on top of his trome back at the Haven, rather than on the roof of my Manhattan brownstone? What if our lives hadn’t been so complicated? What if he hadn’t kissed me as a baby? Would we still—somehow, someday—have fallen in love?
And it’s that single question that makes me realize, no matter what, I will always care deeply for Joshua. Choice or not, a part of me will forever belong to him. Nothing can change this simple truth. It’s as set in stone as Excalibur was.
“Until the right person came along and removed it.”
I sweep my gaze diagonally across the boat, toward Ky. His right arm circles his sister’s shoulders, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me. A frown draws his entire face, from eyebrows to lips.
My heart wrenches. Why does this have to be so hard?
His gaze lowers, eyelashes that shouldn’t belong to a boy brushing the tops of his cheeks.
I long to know what he’s thinking. And I can, if I really desire it. For the first time I will his thoughts to be heard without him sending them toward me. I focus. Listen.
Ky grins at his knees. His thoughts become clear.
And. Now. I’m. Blushing.
You thought that on purpose. I’m scolding him, but also not.
He shrugs. “Can’t help it, Em. It’s only natural to want to—”
I cover my mind’s ears. Stop. Don’t go there.
“As you wish.”
Sigh. My favorite line from The Princess Bride.
Wait, no. Stop. Not now. I will not think of Ky as Westley. I will not think of Ky as—
The boat bumps the stairs, and the invisible link between us vanishes. Streak heaves a coil of thick rope over the boat’s edge and loops it around the top step. He leans back, pulls the rope tight, and nods toward Tide.
The boat rocks as Tide rises and leaps into the water. He dives out of view for a full minute before reemerging. When he does, I’m smiling, reminded of Kuna once more. Tide’s a Mask, and a water creature at that. I shake my head at the dolphin and think of Stormy. She should be here. My heart aches for my best friend. I wish I could’ve brought her with me. Is she back to her old, spunky self? I hope so.
Ky moves to follow Tide, but Flint stops him. “I’ll go first. Better a pilot captured than a captain. Just in case.”