A wall of flame erupted between the sisters and the pirates.
Kesia raised a hand, letting the power flow unhindered for the first time in years. The fire within her danced gleefully, like a caged animal that was now free. Kesia altered her Song, and the wall pushed the pirates farther away.
Miren stumbled back from the flames. “Help us, somebody!”
Kesia kept Singing. Surely someone would see this, someone would come to help them.
Davri.
But the fire had nothing to cling to, so its life had to come from Kesia herself. She felt it suck the marrow from her bones and fill her head with wool. Her breathing was too shallow—the flames sputtered and died.
For a moment, the men stood gaping. She willed the world to stop tilting, her whole body shivering.
“She’s tired,” the captain’s voice drifted over the crowd. “Take her now.”
A few men marched forward, pistols raised.
Miren swung her knife in a flashing arc. The nearest pirate—a bald, portly man—caught her wrist and twisted hard, and the knife slipped from her fingers. She kicked him in the side, but he threw her to the ground and drew his pistol.
“Don’t move,” he warned in a gravelly voice.
The rest of the crew surged around Kesia.
Kesia gasped for air, but she had no energy left for a Song. She sobbed as hands grabbed her, hoisted her up, slapped her mouth shut, and marched her back toward the village. She tried to dig in her heels, but her captors were far stronger.
She had lost.
Kesia couldn’t even turn to glance over her shoulder at Miren. Miren, I’m so sorry, she signed, though her hands were behind her and impossible for anyone to see. I love you. Tell Mother.
The road flattened as it headed toward the docks. The villagers had hardly moved, watching the scene in terror. The pirates had overpowered a Fire Singer: they could all be slaughtered.
A thump. A gasp. Footsteps pounded against the dirt road behind them, hard and fast.
“Stop!” Miren screeched.
Some of the pirates turned, and Kesia strained to see over her shoulder.
A man lay on the ground, rubbing his head. Miren was thundering down the road, her knife flashing in her hand.
How had she possibly—
“Let her go!” Miren shouted.
One of the pirates marched toward Miren, hefting his pistol.
Kesia thrashed, struggling to keep her sister in view as her captors shoved her toward the docks.
The pirate fired at Miren, but she swerved as the gunshot blasted the air. Before he could fire again, she ducked and swiped at him with her knife. He cried out and staggered back, a line of red blooming on his arm. She aimed her knife at his gut, but he was too fast. He brought the butt of his pistol down with a heavy thud, and she crumpled.
A fresh jolt of terror shot through Kesia.
The pirate standing over Miren pointed his pistol.
Kesia sobbed voicelessly.
A loud click drew everyone’s attention. The pirate paused and looked up into the barrel of Haro’s rifle.
The other pirates immediately pulled out their own weapons, but Haro didn’t take his eyes off the man aiming at Miren. “Leave now,” Haro said. “Leave us alone.”
The sound of the waves filled the tense silence. Kesia tried to struggle again, but her captors’ grips were like iron.
The captain shouted, “Let’s go, boys! We’re done here. No need to waste bullets.”
Miren’s assailant paused, his eyes trained on Haro while he holstered his own weapon. Blood trickled from the gash in his arm, and he turned away.
The other pirates continued their march toward the ship. Kesia strained to see Haro, who had dropped to a knee over Miren’s still form. Is she all right? Is she alive?
But the pirates shoved her up the gangplank, and Miren and the village were blocked from Kesia’s view.
Three
Miren
Pain split Miren’s skull, robbed her of her breath, blackened her vision.
Kesia Kesia Kesia.
The world came and went. She blinked, and her eyes burned. Someone was shouting, holding her head. She made to push him away, but her arms weren’t her own.
She blinked again, hearing the roar of waves and angry voices. She opened her eyes and looked up at a familiar beard.
“Raila, get some bandages,” Haro said. “Gilad, help me get her inside.”
Hands moved and scraped her back. Miren’s head lolled to the side. Through half-closed eyes, she stared at the sea, where a ship’s sail billowed against a bright sky.
Tears flowed before she opened her eyes again.
Kesia is gone.
The pain of it almost overwhelmed the splitting headache. Miren wanted to run into the ocean, chase down the ship that had taken her sister. But she knew the ship was long gone now. There was nothing to do.
Kesia was gone.
She had imagined the royal fleet coming and stealing Kesia, following up on the Singer who might have survived that bout of cloud fever. Or perhaps the Avi’ori fleet would invade, looking for Singers to fill their own armies.
Instead, it had been pirates. Greedy, irrelevant pirates.
Something cool and wet pressed on her forehead. She flinched.
“Lie still, sweet,” a woman said. Miren pried her eyes open and saw Raila leaning over her. “You got hit on the head pretty hard.”
Miren remembered. The bald pirate that she had attacked.
Attacked—she’d never attacked anyone in her life.
How would she tell her mother?
A sob grated her throat.
“Shhh, hush now,” Raila crooned. “It’s all right, you’re all right. Haro!” she called.
Miren heard footsteps and looked up at the wooden ceiling and walls. Pillows supported her throbbing head. Raila and Haro’s cabin was slightly larger than hers, or perhaps it was the carefully arranged wardrobe and the small wooden birds that Jonath used to carve that made the room feel spacious. He had enjoyed using Earth Song to control the knife. She remembered arguing with him about whether that was cheating.
Miren had not been inside this cabin since he had left.
Haro appeared, a steaming bowl of broth cupped in his rough hands. “Hey, girl,” he said, his voice low. “How do you feel?”
She felt split open, raw, and bleeding, as though she’d fallen on a bed of rocks from the widow’s walk of the lighthouse.
Kesia is gone.
“Fine,” she whispered.
Carefully, Raila helped her sit up. Miren took the broth from Haro and brought it to her lips, realizing what a horrid betrayal it was to eat. Tears clogged her throat. She pretended to take a sip and lowered the bowl to her lap.
The couple stared at her, their eyes tight with concern.
“Is Cari all right?” Miren asked.
“Yes,” Haro said, as Raila answered, “She’s fine.”
Miren nodded, and tears spilled from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Miren,” Raila said, her eyes glistening.
Miren wished she wasn’t crying. She wished she had lost a leg rather than her sister. She wished there wasn’t so much pain everywhere. She wiped her eyes. Kesia Kesia Kesia—
A knock at the door startled them.
“Skies,” Haro breathed. “Who would that be?”
Miren leaned back and closed her eyes as Haro answered the door. It was probably Cari or Etela or Gilad—someone coming to offer condolences.