“I can’t stop worrying,” I muttered into his shoulder.
In my gut, I knew this was a dream. It was too strange and otherworldly—but I still wanted to hear William’s voice, even if it was all a fantasy.
“This isn’t like you,” William said, chuckling. “You’re the kid who rushed into a trial of worth ceremony, even when it was against the rules. And you were the one who fought plague-ridden monsters, even before you were an arcanist.”
I remained still, unable to answer.
“You haven’t even started this adventure yet and already you want to give up?” William asked. “That’s not the Volke I know.”
After a long exhale, I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. “This isn’t about giving up. It’s about… doing what’s right.”
Everyone I knew who had contracted the arcane plague either went mad or killed themselves to avoid that outcome. Even Rylin—the griffin I had dealt with on the Isle of Landin—had known that his life was forfeit the moment he had been infected with that twisted sickness. He had asked me to kill him before he became a monster.
And the knight captain in Thronehold had done the same thing. He had fought until the bitter end, killing himself so that the plague couldn’t affect anyone else.
They had known what had to be done, and they had done it without hesitation.
Gravekeeper William returned my embrace. “Ah. Now I understand.” He spoke as though he could hear my thoughts, but his tone was so comforting, I didn’t much care.
I exhaled again, my breath hot, my body tense. “Is it selfish of me to look for a cure?” I whispered. “I risk everyone’s safety by… by merely existing. If I hurt someone or infect them while I search for my own salvation, wouldn’t that go against everything I had read about? All those stories of heroes and knights?”
The heroes wouldn’t have questioned themselves or their decisions. They would’ve been noble and ended their lives before anyone had to do it for them.
“The assassins in Thronehold killed a lot of good men and women,” William said.
So many. The queen, the knight captain, the Grandmaster Inquisitor—countless others. I almost hadn’t made it out myself.
William continued, “That was their goal, wasn’t it? To sow confusion and wipe away their enemies. You’re in a unique position, boy. You aren’t like the others. They didn’t have any options. The knight captain had to fulfill his duty and stand at his post till the bitter end—but you don’t. You have a choice. End everything now, just as the villains want, or spit in their face and find a cure, saving yourself and countless others.”
I laughed once, more sarcastic than genuine. “What if I can’t?” I asked. “What if—”
“What if you succeed?” William interjected. “That’s what everyone wants, ya know. Illia, the Frith Guild, your mentor, your eldrin—they all want you to live. They want you to find a cure and bring it back, just like a hero of legend, the kind they write stories about. The only people who want you dead are the villains.”
His words and voice soothed my anxiety, just like when I was a kid. I opened my eyes, thankful to have this moment, even if it was fake. Had Adelgis crafted this with his magic? Ethereal whelk arcanists could manipulate dreams, after all.
But this sounded so much like Gravekeeper William. He always had advice—always supported me—and part of me wished this were reality.
Only Illia’s presence could make this moment perfect.
“I really do miss you,” I whispered.
William smiled. “That’s why you’ve got to succeed. Because I miss you, too. Come home once this is over. Tell me all about the adventure and how you eventually won the day.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, holding on to my sense of determination. “I will.”
I awoke to the groaning of the airship.
At some point, someone had thrown a blanket over me, probably unaware that I wore wootz cotton over most of my body. I had never been so sweaty while lying perfectly still before. I tossed off the blanket and sat up, my head spinning for a moment. No light shone through the porthole, which meant I had slept the entire day.
The rest had done wonders, though. The clinging dread that had haunted me since my infection had faded to the back of my mind. I couldn’t let the situation defeat me. I had a plan, and as long as I was careful, no one else would get hurt. Adelgis and Fain were here to help, and I always had Luthair, even in the darkest of moments.
I would make it through this. I would return to the Frith Guild—see Illia and the others—and eventually I would return to the Isle of Ruma to speak with Gravekeeper William.
I would be okay.
Someone grabbed me from behind. In one quick motion, they yanked my chin back and pressed a blade to my throat.
“Don’t move.” The feminine voice had a forced gruffness to it.
In that split second, I decided not to retaliate with my magic. As a knightmare arcanist, I could’ve manipulated the darkness to create physical objects made of coalesced shadow or I could’ve evoked terrors that sent people spiraling into their worst thoughts and fears. But the only people on the airship were the crew itself, and I didn’t want to attack a potential ally, even if they were holding a weapon to my neck. Plus, I could slip into the shadows at any moment, escaping my attacker’s grip, though I would risk getting cut. I didn’t want to bleed anywhere on the Sun Chaser.
I held my breath.
The woman tightened her grip and held me close, my back against her chest. The blade at my throat was zigzagged, like a bolt of lightning. I couldn’t see her or the weapon, however—the details I absorbed were from touch alone.
“Everyone knows what you are,” she said, maintaining the growl in her tone, as though trying to hide her true voice. “And just because Karna brought you aboard doesn’t mean we trust you.”
I wondered about Luthair. Why hadn’t he acted? Was he not in the room? Or perhaps he wanted me to handle the situation?
Before I could think of a reasonable response, the woman continued, “Every member of the crew has a weapon, and we’ll always know where you are, even when you’re sleeping.” She pressed the blade as hard as she could against my throat without breaking the skin. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said, though the simple act of talking almost resulted in a cut.
“This’ll be your only warning.”
The woman released me and then hustled out of the room, her steps quiet. Given her insistence on stealth, and the fact that she had kept to the thickest shadows in the room, I suspected she didn’t know I could see in the dark. I watched her leave as I rubbed my neck, curious about her weapon, the zigzag dagger. It had a golden sheen to the edge, and the hilt looked like it had been woven out of flax string.
Once the door snapped shut, I relaxed in the hammock. “Nice to meet you, too,” I quipped. Then I examined my surroundings, hoping to spot Luthair’s shifting form. The other hammocks sat empty. The crates and barrels hadn’t moved.
“Luthair?” I asked.
No reply.
I stood and walked out of the room, no need to light the lamps. The hallway to the captain’s quarters was just as dark and empty as the storeroom I now called home. Still bare footed, I made my way up the stairs to the deck. The night air greeted me with an icy gust of wind. The cotton wrapping under my clothes absorbed the chill.