But what the hell am I supposed to run in? Leggings would be too hot for a long run when the sun rose, and it wasn’t as though she had a sports bra with her. She slipped into her regular bra before wrapping the scarf around herself for extra support, and then grabbed Lir’s shirt from the floor. It would have to do. It came down to her knees anyway—a sort of jogging tunic. That’s a thing, right?
She pulled on the canvas shoes Tobias had bought her in Dogtown. Her feet were still battered from the barefoot journey through Virginia, and these weren’t made for long distance, but they’d have to do.
After scraping her hair into a ponytail, she pulled open the door.
Lir looked her over from head to toe. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Are you here to give me fashion advice, or to train me as a seafaring warrior?”
Wordlessly he turned, leading her up the stairs and across the deck. Following him down a rope ladder to the rowboat, she suddenly regretted her decision to leave the leggings on board. Not only did the coastal air chill her legs, but Lir could see right up her jogging tunic. Then again, he gave no impression of caring.
She followed him into the rowboat, sitting in the bow. Chilled by the wind, she rubbed her arms. “Are we going to that island?”
“It’s called Fiddler’s Green.” He picked up the oars and began rowing.
“Is this some kind of punishment because I lost the duel yesterday?”
“You faltered when you saw blood. You’ll be dead soon if we don’t sort you out.”
It wasn’t blood she feared. She was scared she liked it a little too much. “If I’m such a hopeless case, why are you getting up at four in the morning to train me? Why not just give up?”
“Because training you is my job, and I don’t shirk responsibilities. Believe me, I’d rather be sitting around reading a newspaper with a cup of coffee.”
“You spend your free time reading newspapers?” Her first thought was something along the lines of Here sits the least fun pirate the world’s ever known, but her second was Crap, please don’t let him see my photo. She really didn’t want him learning all the details—running from witch hunters, daughter of a serial killer. None of it was pretty.
“I read them when I can get them, which isn’t often. I like to stay in touch with the real world if I can.”
The rest of the boat ride passed in silence, and she stared at the island’s dark outline as they approached. Small cliffs ringed the perimeter, around thirty feet high. Within them, an archway opened into a deep grotto, barely visible through the dark.
When they landed on the shore, Fiona stepped from the boat onto a jagged outcrop.
Lir whispered a spell above the boat before turning to Fiona. “You’ll need to climb.”
She clutched at slippery handholds on the steep incline, hoisting herself up. Breaking waves had wetted the rocks, and given their slickness, she was happy Lir climbed below her in case she needed someone to break her fall.
Pulling herself to the island’s plateau, she surveyed her surroundings. In the moonlight, she could make out a rocky terrain around the perimeter. In the center, scattered trees grew among low-growing wildflowers and grasses. She inhaled deeply. Cherry trees.
Lir ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’ll go through the center. The edges are too dangerous.” He took off at a jog, and she followed. “Can you see well enough?”
“Bats see better than you might think.” She shot a quick glance at the tentacled tattoo visible above his shirt collar. “What’s your familiar, anyway?”
“Octopus. Batharos. He swims with the ship.”
She crinkled her nose. She didn’t want to think of him with slick appendages. “I don’t think I’d like to see you transform.”
He quickened his pace. “We’re not going fast enough if you’ve got so much energy to talk.”
Low to the ground, red blossoms lay closed. In the crisp air, their floral scent mingled with the smell of seaweed. Fiona inhaled deeply. “How far are we running?”
“Four miles.”
Easy. At least, it would have been during track season. “What do the Guardians guard, anyway?”
“You won’t need to know that unless you survive the trials.”
“And what exactly are the odds of that? Have any recruits made it?”
“Just Jacques. The rest of us were born into the life.”
A gull cried overhead. “Where are your parents?”
“So many questions.” He pumped his arms harder, picking up speed. “Our mothers live on Atlantis, hidden from the outside world by an enchanted mist. They’re priestesses of Dagon, and they look after us until we reach the age of five, when we’re old enough to join our fathers at sea.”
Atlantis. Of course it’s a real place. Why wouldn’t it be? “So the Guardian men never marry? You just father children with the priestesses, and then go back out to sea?”
“Precisely.”
As her breath came heavier, Fiona felt a pang of sadness for five-year-old Lir, forced to leave his mother behind. At that age especially, it must have been devastating. “Do you remember much about Atlantis?”
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped. “I’m here to train you. Not to cure your loneliness.”