Our disguises are good, fitting right in, but as the warehouse looms into view over the top of a row of shops, each lingering set of eyes sends my heart hammering helter-skelter against my ribs. We wade through, chins to our chests, trying very hard to blend in to the ebb and flow. A few brave ships ready for a day on the water, the promise of catch as lucrative as the idea of sea mines is prohibitive. The streets are alive with the weekday buzz. Satisfied, I draw in a deep breath and drop his hand to raise my hood over my too-short hair. If we have a war on two fronts and no end in sight. He’ll need that strength if we survive long enough to see Father come. Just hear me-you’re strong, William Jensen, and whatever comes-remember that.” don’t lose faith in your abilities and start sprouting flowers.” I stop him on the edge of the woods, just in sight of the abandoned cabin. Get a good look, because I’m not finished yet. I’m the one who buried your king and ended your line. But my stomach twists under their watch, Niklas’s ring tight on my finger. We push up the switchbacks, top the cliff, and put our heads down as we enter the woods, the eyes of Øldenburg Castle looming down. “Purr klœdi.”įinished, I straighten the buttons on Will’s coat. When we get to the beach, I force Will to pause long enough that I can dry us both. And sloshing through the little shallow lagoon. The silence and steps return, until we’re past the castle, marble balcony skeletal in the low light. And it’s a funny thing, because I know if we survive this, it’ll be mine to hold again. When we’ve hit solid beach again, Will squeezes my fingers and drops my hand. Then up the switchbacks, through the woods, past the tiny vacant house and onto the sea lane with a direct shot to the docks and, by proximity, the warehouse. No, we need to hop from one rock face with its hairline beach to the other, and then work our way around to the little lagoon where I first changed.

Sea Witch by Sarah Henning