Ilian and I are still in the luggage car, except we’ve stopped and the train conductor from before is now glaring at us along with another man.

How I didn’t freeze is a miracle, but the Ithaqua is a regular furnace that doubles as a blanket when he curls himself around me.

“N-nothing!” I manage to stammer when my brain finally functions again.

The train conductor rolls his eyes while the other man cackles. “Don’t smell like nothing.”

A growl from the now awake Ilian shuts the guy up. His eyes widen as he inches behind the conductor.

“What did you say?” the Ithaqua demands.

“N-nothing!” he squeaks.

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Ilian taunts, and I elbow him in the side.

“Stop it! You’re scaring him.”

“Good. He should be scared because if he tells anyone—”

“Enough!” The conductor slashes his hand through the air, cutting him off. “He won’t tell anyone. We don’t care, and there’s no one this far East who does, either. Just get out.”

Ilian stares for a moment before nodding and capturing my hand to tug me out of the car. Without a backward glance, we walk back to where our cabin is and grab our bags.

“I can’t believe I slept until morning. I apologize for jeopardizing you like that.”

His guilt comes roaring back, barreling through the bond until I nearly choke on it. My whimper gets Ilian’s attention, and he takes a deep breath.

“Forgive me, soyam. It seems every time I try to do something right, I mess something else up.”

“You know it’s ok to make mistakes, right?”

“Not where you’re concerned.”

“Why?”

“Because…because you’re too precious for me to fuck up. I mean, I already did, but then I keep making it worse.”

His words are both sweet and tragic. They tear at my heart, knowing the weight he feels because he imprinted on me.

I squeeze his hand. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you’re making anything worse. I can’t say the situation we’re in is something I would’ve picked, but for what it’s worth, I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

Ilian relaxes, tucking me under his arm and out of the howling wind. It fills my mouth with briny spray, and I know we’re close to the sea.

“You’re too good for me, soyam.”

Although he doesn’t say it, I hear the unspoken sentiment of him not deserving me, and it saddens me more.

How can I make Ilian understand that he’s more than worthy of love—especially when we’re on a mission to break our accidental mating bond.

“I taste the ocean.”

“Me, too. This way. We’re meeting a friend of mine who will speak to the Kueeng of Dagons for us.”

With a nod, we depart the train station and head to the port. The Strait of Tartary stretches before us, the water choppy with frothy waves.

We board a ferry to Sakhalin Island, and the grueling trip takes almost twenty hours. We don’t arrive until the next morning, but I’ve never been so thankful to step back on land.

I spent the entire day and night seasick while Ilian rubbed my back and held my hair back as my stomach attempted to empty everything inside of my body into a small bucket.

Unfortunately, the Sakhalin-8 only has one toilet, and I wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the waves.

Weak morning light greets me as Ilian carries my prone form off the ship. I’m too tired to put up a fight and appreciate the gesture as I’m sure my legs would give out.

The city of Kholmsk is just as white and cold as the rest of Russia, and I allow myself to drift off on the two-hour ride to the other side of the island.

When we arrive, Ilian gently wakes me, directing me to a hotel that looks more like a series of cabins—not that I’m complaining.

While Ilian goes off to find food and get in contact with his Dagon friend, I take a hot bath, heated by a multi-headed zmei.

My Ithaqua returns sooner than expected, his arms laden with bags that he sets down on the table while beckoning me closer.

“Come, eat, soyam. You must replenish your strength. I’ve never seen anyone expel so much.”

I laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

His bright pink gaze flares. “Don’t be embarrassed. I would’ve been sick, too, if not for my Ithaquan blood.

It makes my kind able to withstand almost anything given where we live, but even I don’t know how those men and women run that ship day in and day out without nausea.”

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t sick—can you imagine if we had to share that bucket?!”

Ilian laughs. “I would’ve just hung my head off the side of the boat and chummed the water.”

I shudder at the thought. “Speaking of water, as much as I hope to never get in it again, were you able to contact your Dagon friend?”

“Yes, and they have procured an audience with the Kueeng. When you are ready, we will meet them at the port.”

My stomach pitches, and I bet my face turns green. “So soon?”

“Don’t worry, soyam. We’re not traversing above the waves but below them.”

I scrunch up my nose. “What?”

“You’ll see. Do you trust me?”