On These Wicked Shores by Katherine Quinn

Author:Katherine Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781648981524
Publisher: City Owl Press

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MARGRETE

“Have you been having any weird dreams?” Margrete asked Bay during their trek north. They’d been walking all morning and had come across nothing but trees.

“I…” Bay stumbled over a fallen branch. He quickly righted himself, though his jaw clenched. That was answer enough.

“I see,” she said. “Me too.”

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Bay whispered, slowing his pace. “I don’t think we faced the second trial yet, even though my dream yesterday was less than ideal.”

“I dreamed of being buried alive in a coffin of snakes.”

Jacks sauntered over to join the conversation, his twin at his side. Margrete hadn’t thought she’d been speaking all too loudly, but she’d forgotten about Azantian hearing.

“That might just beat out my dream,” Bay mumbled under his breath, shivering.

Dani, Jacks’s sister, just hung her head in silence. Margrete wondered what terrors she’d endured while she’d slept. The quieter of the siblings, the black-haired beauty with deep brown skin and sapphire-colored eyes rarely spoke. Her brother seemed to do the talking for them both.

From the corner of her eyes, Margrete saw Atlas’s face scrunch with concern. The blonde lowered her gaze back to the ground as if she wasn’t secretly listening in on their conversation.

“Are you all right, Dani?” Margrete asked loudly, mainly for Atlas’s sake. Dani barely lifted her head before giving her a subtle nod.

“She’s not all right,” Jacks said for her, swiping a hand through his tight curls. “And I agree. The worst is yet to come.”

Atlas tripped over a branch at his words, her stumble catching Dani’s attention. She hastily looked away and drifted back to her brother’s side.

Jacks’s declaration had certainly dampened the mood, and silence descended for the next hour.

With every step, Margrete’s sense of foreboding heightened to an impossible degree. The power inside of her refused to show itself, which was altogether maddening. It sank deep below the surface where she couldn’t reach it, and when she closed her eyes and sought it out, she found nothing.

So much for progress. She finally thought she’d mastered it yesterday—well, not mastered, but gotten a better hold on it. Maybe like the sea her magic hailed from, it couldn’t be tamed or called upon at will.

“Slow!” Bay raised a hand, halting his crew. His ears perked up as he listened into the hushed woods. Cautiously, he ambled ahead, pushing aside branches and marching through the dense underbrush. They all waited for his command.

Bay peeked past the leaves and instantly hissed.

That couldn’t be good.

“Everyone on their guard,” he said, waving them forward. He held back the limbs as Margrete passed, his eyes sharper than any blade.

Margrete came to a halt at the tree line. Before them stood a gaping chasm separated by two cliffs, a wooden bridge strung at either side. It hardly appeared stable enough to look at, let alone walk across. Margrete wandered to the edge and peered over. She let out a curse.

The drop had to be more than two hundred feet.

Nestled at the bottom, a narrow stream flowed.

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