Then, eyes huge and cheeks pale, Kullen turned to Merik and shook his head.
Safi dropped to the deck beside them. “How can I help?” She looked first at Merik, then to the girl, and finally to Kullen—who stared back at her.
But the first mate could only wag his head at Safi before his eyes rolled back and he fell forward into Merik’s arms.
Instantly, Merik and the younger girl flipped him onto his back, and Merik tipped Kullen’s mouth wide. He lowered his lips to Kullen’s, and then exhaled full gusts of magicked air into his Threadbrother’s throat.
Over and over, he did this. An eternity of puffing and heaving, of urgent, terrified Threads. Sailors gathered around, though they seemed smart enough to hang back. Safi threw a panicked look at Iseult, but Iseult could offer no solutions. She had never seen anything like this before.
Then a tremble moved through Kullen’s chest. He was breathing.
Merik gaped for several long seconds at Kullen’s ribs before doubling over in relief. His Threads blazed with the pink light of Threadbrothers—pure and dazzling.
“Thank you, Noden,” he mumbled into Kullen’s chest. “Oh, Noden, thank you.”
The same sentiment shimmered through the Threads of every sailor—through Safi’s and Evrane’s as well.
Yet none were so bright as Merik’s or the girl’s—and the girl’s shone with the pure red of a Heart-Thread.
“Let me check him,” Evrane said with a gentle hand on Merik’s back. “To be sure he did not damage something.”
Merik shot up, his face contorted with fury. And his Threads …
Iseult flinched from the force. “You disobeyed my orders!” he shouted at his aunt. “You jeopardized my ship and my men! The domna was my only bargaining card!”
Evrane stood still, Threads calm. “We needed a Firewitch healer for Iseult. She would have died without one.”
“We all would have died!” Merik pushed Evrane again. She didn’t resist. “You abandoned your post with no thought for others!”
Safi’s Threads blazed into a defensive fury. She sprang to her feet. “It wasn’t her fault—she was only doing what I ordered.”
Merik swiveled toward Safi. “Is that so, Domna? So you weren’t fleeing your betrothed? You weren’t avoiding capture, Truthwitch?”
Cold tunneled through Iseult’s stomach. Down her muscles. But how did he know?
Doesn’t matter, Iseult told herself, already bending her knees to lunge for Safi. To protect her …
Until Safi’s Threads flared with beige uncertainty—as if she might try to hide this truth from Merik. So Iseult schooled her face into absolute Threadwitch calm. She would not betray Safi’s secret.
“Where did you hear that rumor?” Safi finally asked, her words careful and even.
“The Marstoks know.” Merik leaned toward her. “Their Voicewitch kindly told mine. Do you deny it?”
The world dragged, as if Safi’s inner debate spread around her. The breeze became soft and distant. Don’t admit it. Please don’t admit it. It was one thing for Emperor Henrick to possibly know of Safi’s witchery, but there was no reason for the whole world to learn too. What if Merik decided to use her—or to marry her, as Henrick had? Or what if Merik decided to kill Safi instead, before an enemy could lay claim to her?
Yet as Safi’s Threads melted from gray fear to a lush, determined green, Iseult’s breath rolled out with defeat.
“So what?” Safi squared her shoulders. “So what if I am a Truthwitch, Admiral? What difference does it make?”
In a burst of speed, Merik grabbed Safi’s wrists, flipped her around, and wrenched her arms behind her. “It makes all the difference,” he snarled. “You told me no one sought you. You told me you were not important, and yet you’re a Truthwitch betrothed to Emporer Henrick.” He pushed her arms further back.
Safi’s face tightened, but when Iseult tipped forward to defend—to fight for her Threadsister—Safi shook her head in warning.
When Safi spoke again, her tone and Threads were shockingly controlled. “I thought that if you knew who I was, you would turn me over to the Cartorrans.”
“Lie.” Merik leaned in close, his face inches from Safi’s. “Your magic knows when I speak the truth, Domna, and I told you I never intended harm. All I want is to get food to my people. Why is that so hard for anyone?…” His voice cracked. He paused, his Threads melting from crimson rage to deep blue sadness. “I’ve lost my Tidewitches now, Domna, and the Marstoks hunt me. All I have left are my ship, my loyal sailors, and my first mate. But you almost took them away from me too.” Safi’s mouth opened as if to argue, but Merik wasn’t finished. “We could have escaped as soon as the sea foxes arrived. Instead, we almost died because you were not in your cabin like you should’ve been. I had to find you, and that left us as bait for the foxes. Your recklessness almost killed my crew.”
“But Iseult—”