With Jackie hydrated and bathed, I called on the winds, drawing air from the north. The cool front collided against the warm air mass surrounding us and announced its displeasure in an explosive crack of thunder. Lightning split the sky. The breeze raised goose bumps on my arms. I wondered if it offered Jackie any relief.

Gerda had told me fevers were the body’s way of burning out impurities, and to let them run their course. In rare cases, an exceptionally high fever could cause further injury or death, but the best I could do was to keep Jackie hydrated and comfortable and let nature take its course. “I’m surprised your Magic hasn’t saved you,” I said, brushing a lock of pale hair from his brow. “Not so terribly powerful now, are you?”

A flicker of movement in the darkness startled me. The cool front had brought in clouds and blotted out the moonlight, but Clarice’s lantern shined brightly over Jackie’s wan figure as she approached. “Heard he took a turn for the worse.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But a fever seems a rather natural reaction to being shot.”

She huffed. “I’ve brought you some more of the salve I gave him earlier. It should help.”

I muttered my thanks as she smeared a thick glob of ointment on Jackie’s wound. “Leo has the night watch,” she said. “If you need anything else, ask him, and he’ll get it for you.”

“You’re very kind and generous with your supplies.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? Faercourt has paid me well, and there’s more waiting for me if I get him to Inselgrau alive.”

“What’s to hold you to that bargain? You could take his money, throw us both overboard, and save yourself from the trouble.”

She huffed and rose to her feet. From a coat pocket, she withdrew a pipe and a packet of tobacco. “I’m a sailor, girl. Not a pirate.”

She strolled off toward the stern, and moments later the sweet scent of pipe smoke wafted through the air. I swabbed Jackie’s brow again and called for another gust of cool air. The sails billowed, and the waves swelled, rocking the ship like a cradle. I stretched out beside him and closed my eyes. Just for a second, I’ll rest my eyes... just for a second...

***

Jackie’s thrashing and yelling jarred me awake. With a yelp, I sat up, clawing hair out of my eyes. My heart raced, panic swirling my thoughts until I remembered where I was, how I had gotten there, and why. A pale light on the horizon’s edge implied I’d slept for a while—much longer than a brief nap. The cool front had drifted away, and the air had turned still and stagnant again.

I touched him, and he yelled, gnashing his teeth. Before, his skin had been warm, but now it felt like fire. The compress on his chest had dried out. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed a bucket, refilled it, and doused him as though he were a raging campfire burning out of control. Over and over, I drenched him. Calling the winds, I brought in more cool air and vowed to remain vigilant this time. On my knees at his head, I pulled his shoulders into my lap and poured fresh water down his throat until he gagged. Once he caught his breath, I made him drink more.

I was drenched and chilled by the winds, my teeth chattering, but still Jackie blazed in my arms. “I hope you’re not planning to die here on this godsforsaken ship, you bastard. You and I are due for a final reckoning, and you better not deny me. If you’re going to be beaten, it’ll be on Inselgrish soil with me as the victor, not here in the middle of the ocean with no one to witness your sad, weak defeat.” I shook him. “Come on, Jackie. I’ve spent months preparing myself to stand up to you in a fair and honest fight. This is not how things end between us.” Words lodged in my throat. My eyes burned, but I wouldn’t cry for him. If he died, then good riddance, right?

Love and hate, remember? Grandfather said. You don’t love Jackie, but the emotions you feel for him are just as strong.

What’s your point?

There’s power in your hatred. It is the fuel that keeps you fighting, keeps you going when you would have given up or surrendered. If Jackie dies today, then maybe so does your ambition, and then where will you be? What will fuel your lightning then?

Oh, believe me, Grandfather, I have plenty of hatred for Le Poing Fermé. I don’t need Jackie to keep me motivated.

Are you certain?

I thought of Gideon, of his loyalty, conviction, and sacrifice. He’d said he would risk everything for me, and I believed him. Believed him to my core. I might hate Jackie, but I love Gideon more, and I love my people. If anything is going to motivate me as a queen, I choose love. Every day I will wake up choosing love.

Having caught on to the frantic scene, Leo appeared at my side, eyes wide, ginger hair blowing wildly in the breeze. “What’s happened, miss?”

“His fever is worse.”

“How can I help?”

“Get another bucket of water. Keep him wet.”

Leo snatched the bucket and returned moments later with water spilling from its brim. “Step back, miss.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just get him cooled off. Keep it coming.”

The winds howled, cold and frigid. A steady shiver vibrated in my bones. When Leo proposed we take a break, I ordered him to keep going. But when his lips turned blue and his own teeth started chattering, I relented.

“Miss,” he said, “you’ll get the chills if we keep this up.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“If you get sick, too, I’m not sure the captain’s generosity will extend to you.”

“Fine.” I laid Jackie on the deck, scraping his sodden hair off his brow. “We’ve done what we can. The rest, I suppose, is up to the gods and to whatever source feeds his Magic. May they have mercy on his soul.”

Chapter 23

The Powers That Be must have heard my words and felt merciful, after all. Jackie’s fever broke around noon, and he slept through the next three days, waking only to take water and food or rising to let me help him stumble to the head when he needed to relieve himself. I played the role of attentive nurse to perfection, holding back my distaste long enough to bathe him and keep him comfortable. He never questioned my assistance. Perhaps his ego had convinced him I was sympathetic and had discovered tender feelings for him. Maybe he was too tired and hurt to question my motives. Maybe he was too smart to ask.

Once I was certain he would recover, I could’ve ignored him and let him care for himself, but Jackie valued the appearance of civility and manners. If I kept him in a good mood, he’d be more likely to humor me and perhaps be less likely to use his Magic against me. Hopefully it meant he’d be less likely to discover the Magic I intended to use against him, as well.

By our fifth day at sea, he’d recovered enough strength to apply a bit of Magic to speed his healing. I returned from a late-morning stroll around the deck to find Jackie bathed and dressed. His hair shimmered, and the pallor had drained from his face. He was as pale as always, but pink undertones warmed his skin.

“Don’t you look like a new man,” I said, appraising his improvement.

Bare toes peeked from the cuffs of his blue linen trousers. He wore a thin cotton shirt, open at the neck—his façade more casual than the one he normally presented.

“Feeling better?”

A flush rose in his cheeks. Something warm burned in his eyes. “Thanks to you, yes.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” I tilted my chin toward the hallway. “I was just coming to see if you wanted anything to eat. Clarice says there’s lunch in the galley. It’s not much, some fish filets and bread, but it’ll keep your stomach full.”

“Can we eat it on the deck? I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Can you manage the stairs? Go on up. I’ll get our plates and join you.”

He nodded then shuffled out, still in bare feet, and worked his way to the deck, one slow step at a time. After filling two plates with fish, bread, dollops of butter, and a few chunks of fried potato, I joined Jackie on a bench near the portside rail. With his eyes closed and face tilted toward the sun, he looked like a nymph as the wind played with his hair. In so many ways, he was a lovely young man, and with his abilities, he could’ve been a strong ally. A friend. Instead, his powers had corrupted him, and he’d forever be my enemy. That realization saddened me, and I grieved the friendship and bond that would never exist between us.

“What’s that look on your face?” he asked as he accepted his lunch plate. “You look so sad.”

Settling beside him, I handed him a fork. I considered telling him to mind his own business, but what was the harm in being frank for once? I’d probably never have the chance to talk to him so openly again. “I was thinking about the loss of friendship.”

“Do you mean between you and me?”

I forked a piece of fish and inspected it, searching for bones. “If our conflict was a simple disagreement, there would still be amity between us, and I think you could have been a very good friend, Jackie.”

“You’re right. I could.” He set his plate in his lap and smeared a thick layer of butter on his bread. “I still can be.”

“No. It’s too late for that.” The fish needed more salt, but at least it tasted fresh, and Anscombe had managed to keep from burning it or drying it out. “There’s nothing between us for the kind of foundation a friendship requires. We share no mutual goals or beliefs. You want power, and you’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”