See how foolish it is to vow to give up the thing you love? Such a waste of talent.

  She ignored him, thrusting and kicking through the waves until she reached the survivor. She gripped the wood and paddled toward shore, where she dragged the board through the sand, mindful of dangling limbs. Once out of the tide’s reach, she set it down and knelt to inspect her find.

  It was a young man, perhaps eighteen or twenty years old. When Dena put her fingers to the boy’s throat, the vein pulsed with life. His clothes had been torn to shreds, revealing bruises and a deep gash along one thigh. The cuffs and collar left no doubts as to where he’d come from, though instead of being made of the usual rough iron, they were constructed of an alloy bespelled not to chafe.

  The slavers hadn’t wanted him marked. When Dena peeled wet hair away from the young man’s face, she saw why.

  Korinth had the same thought. Handsome fellow.

  Dena ignored him as she pulled her clothes back on. Pretty or not, the last thing she wanted was the trouble a slave would bring, especially an attractive one.

  The boy twitched. Fevered eyes gazed up at her. “Don’t let him find me. Don’t...”

  That was all he had the strength for. He went limp and stayed that way as Dena used the board to drag him to the hut. Inside, Dena laid the young man on her pallet and set a kettle to boil.

  Careful, Korinth said when she’d fetched a stone and chisel. Those cuffs are also spelled to resist magic.

  She’d sensed as much already. A few sharp raps with stone and chisel rid her guest of the damned shackles. A wave of suppressed energy broke free, and she shivered.

  He’s got magic of his own. I wonder what kind?

  Dena wondered too, but the boy’s injuries were a more immediate concern. She fetched the wand one of the Egret’s healers had charged for her and used the few remaining healing spells to treat the large gash and subsequent infection. For the rest, she’d have to rely on the remedies her mother had taught her. It brought her a measure of peace to return to the simple, comfortable things she’s practiced before her fine voice and skill with the lute had caught Korinth’s attention. With no small amount of flattery and promises, he’d snatched her up and apprenticed her aboard one of the many vessels paying well for weather work.

  I changed your life for the better.

  You changed my life, at least. Now let me concentrate.

  Dena did her best not to stare at her guest as she worked. Those long, graceful limbs had been molded by years of physical training, either dance or martial arts, she guessed. How he’d ended up a slave remained a mystery.

  Are you going to keep him? The tone was mocking. Deadly.

  I’ll never keep slaves. Never. And I’ve no need for him to keep me warm at night. Dena gritted her teeth and focused on cleaning and bandaging the boy’s wounds. As soon as her patient was well, Dena would send him on his way and give Korinth one less reason to provoke her.

  “Where...?”

  Dena met her patient’s gaze, surprised to see the boy awake. Dena pointed to her mouth and made an apologetic gesture.

  “You don’t talk?”

  Dena shook her head. She ladled fresh tea into a cup, held it to the boy’s lips and helped him drink.

  “Thank you. My name’s Narid.” The boy stared at his bandaged wrist and hand, opening and closing puffy fingers. “The last thing I remember...”

  Dena waited for him to finish, but Narid moaned. A tremor shook him, as if he were a rabbit just escaped from a fox. Dena put a hand on the boy’s forehead and winced as she felt the heat. If her patient worsened, she had little to fall back on, having used the last of the wand’s spells.

  “Why did you do it?”

  Dena raised an eyebrow.

  “Save me.” The boy’s voice wavered and caught as if he were about to cry. “I shouldn’t be alive, not after...”

  Dena shrugged and gestured toward the sky to indicate the gods. She’d had nothing to do with the boy’s fate.

  Narid laughed, a bitter, unhappy sound. “The gods. They’ve already had their fun with me.”

  She held out her hand, palm up, in question. She worshiped Zaneth, the deity of wind and waves, but she knew well how capricious the gods could be and wondered what sort of trouble the boy was in.

  But his eyes drifted shut, and he didn’t answer.

  ~o0o~

  “Don’t let him find me. Don’t...”

  Dena sat bolt upright, heart pounding, disoriented. What in Zaneth’s name was—

  “Please, let me go!”

  Cursing silently, Dena crawled over to where the boy writhed in his blankets. She tried to shake him awake, but Narid thrashed so violently that Dena had to hold him down lest he re-injure himself. Not good. If she couldn’t get the boy calmed, he’d be sick all over again.

  What a pity you gave up on your music. I doubt that it would help, anyway.

  He was goading her. And, damn it, she had no other tools left.

  Steeling herself, she went to her trunk and dug through the collection of disused weaponry and tools until she found her old wooden flute. She drew it out, finding the instrument heavy with the weight of memory. The last time she’d held it, she and Korinth had been keeping watch on the Egret’s deck. Dena had played a light tune to stir the wind on a hot night, and Korinth had teased her. One day, you’ll find pleasure in the big magics. You’ll revel in your power, as I have.

  She had no time for such maudlin musings. Setting her fingers over the holes, she played a low, quiet lullaby meant for soothing colicky babies.

  That old thing?

  He’d never liked her softer songs, because he was so physical and full of edges that he had difficulty finding ways to complement her gentler magic with his own. But roughness wasn’t what Narid needed; so she played, drawing the faint vestiges of power into the music then letting it flow and wrap itself around her target.

  Little by little, Narid calmed, though he didn’t relax entirely. He let out one last, terrible shudder, and she couldn’t tell whether was from cold or fear.

  Doesn’t take much to get you to break a promise, does it? Korinth asked.

  I vowed never to sing again. That, at least, I will keep. The comment ruined the little enjoyment she’d taken in playing again. She stashed the flute back in the chest, hating herself for giving in so easily.

  “I can’t... Gods. The things I saw.” Narid clutched his head and moaned.

  Dena knelt at his side and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. The small, slight body curled tight. Sighing, Dena rubbed Narid’s back. The casual contact came easier than Dena might have imagined. Korinth had never been this broken or frightened. He’d always been the one in charge, cocky and confident and teasing Dena for any perceived weakness. It was strange to be providing comfort to someone in need.

  It felt...nice.

  You watch yourself. You’ve no idea where he’s been, or who he’s been with.

  You should talk. Too many times she’d given Korinth that same warning when he’d wandered off to a dark corner with a handsome sailor. She was in no mood for Korinth’s jealousy, not when all she was trying to do was ease this battered soul’s pain.

  It took a while, but Narid finally stopped trembling and drifted into uneasy sleep. Dena kept her arm where it was, wrapped around the boy’s chest where she could just feel Narid’s steady heartbeat along with a strange tingling that she took to be the remnants of anxiety.

  Don’t get too attached, Korinth said. Good things never last for long.

  ~o0o~

  The sun had already risen by the time Den awoke, feeling as if she’d spent the night battling a sea serpent rather than sleeping. She’d always been fit and healthy, and only when she’d worked the greatest magics had he felt this exhausted. A simple healing tune shouldn’t have worn her out so much, but then again she was out of practice.

  She briefly inspected her patient, who was still resting quietly, then went outside for her morning walk and meditation. The tide had deposited a few gifts, none of which she wanted, though at least the wooden debris would be useful as firewood or in patching the holes in her hut. When she came upon the bloated body of a slaver, already gnawed on, she dragged it back out to sea to let the sharks rid her of that nuisance.

  On her return, she was relieved to see that Narid had lost the feverish flush and was awake and alert. He sat up with the blanket artfully wrapped around himself. Time to find him some clothes.

  Or not, Korinth said playfully.

  Ignoring him, Dena went to one of the caves pocketing the shoreline. She used them for storage since a number of shipwrecks had left her with a variety of goods she could take up to the city and trade for food or other supplies. One of her finds had been an entire crate full of clothing and linens from a trade ship. Then, she hadn’t paid it much mind, having no care for the silky, gauzy outfits, but she had the feeling Narid was made for finer things than the rough homespun shirt and pants Dena had gotten used to.

  She was right. Narid brightened at the shirt, pants and belt and Dena barely had time to turn her back before Narid dropped the blanket and donned the clothes. “They’re perfect,” Narid said, and they were.

  Food was the next priority. There were enough sea birds nesting in the area that she could collect a few eggs and not feel guilty. Cooked with some of the sea tubers, they made a passable omelet. She cooked two and passed one to Narid, who ate like the starving young man he was. Dena nibbled half of hers and passed the rest to Narid, too tired to be hungry.

  “Have you ever seen a sea serpent? Up close, I mean.”

  Dena nodded. It wasn’t hard to recall the shock she’d felt at seeing the monster when she wasn’t much older than Narid. At least she’d had her magic and Korinth for protection.

  And I told you I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. Not ever. I keep my promises.

  So he had, and he’d sealed this one with the ring of protection hanging on a chain around her neck. She fingered it, trying not to remember how she’d repaid the gift.

  Narid shivered. “There were so many screams. So much blood.” He rubbed his arm where a cut hadn’t quite healed. “I’ve never seen anything so awful. It just tore the ship in two, and everyone fell into the water. Some slid into its mouth, and I heard the way they crunched in its teeth. Gods. I’ll never forget that horrible sound.”

  The press of his body as he leaned against her was strange and uncomfortable, but she didn’t have the heart to push him away. After a moment, she wrapped an arm around the trembling shoulders for comfort. Narid laid a hand on her knee. Then he slipped it to Dena’s inner thigh and stroked slowly, determinedly upward.

  Panic surged. She grabbed Narid’s wrist so hard that the boy winced.

  “I’m sorry. I...I don’t have any other way to repay you. I thought...”

  She shoved him away, repulsed the idea that Narid felt obligated to offer himself.

  So he’s a trained consort after all. No wonder he was wearing the fancy chains. Probably would have fetched a high price if he’d made it to their destination. I bet he wronged some master or another and that’s who’s sold him. Pity I’m not capable of accepting his offer.

  Enough, Master.

  She turned to find Narid staring at her. She raised an eyebrow.

  “You had a funny look on your face. That’s all.” He ducked his head, but not before Dena caught the sudden blush. “I need the privy.”

  Dena watched him go, disconcerted by the way Narid had looked at her. Impossible. The boy couldn’t know about Korinth.

  Seems like it though, doesn’t it?

  ~o0o~

  The next morning, Dena once again slept uncharacteristically late and woke exhausted, wondering if she’d contracted an illness. Every muscle ached, and the last thing she wanted to do was move.

  But move she did, because Narid’s pallet was empty.

  Fearing the worst, Dena rushed outside, only to find the boy standing on a boulder and going through a series of martial arts exercises with a sword in hand.

  You mean, my sword, Korinth said irritably. He’s a stripling. He doesn’t have the right to wield such an honorable weapon.

  Maybe not, but Dena couldn’t bring herself to be angry. From the delicate, deadly movements, Narid had definitely received some advanced training. There was magic in the way he moved; Dena could feel it swirling in the air, potent, dangerous as the blade itself.

  For a moment, she longed to play once more, to let her own magic blend with Narid’s. There was something...innocent about it, in a way Korinth’s had never been.

  Don’t you dare compare that rat to me. The boy is a slave, a catamite and probably a thief. You don’t need him tainting your gift.

  He was probably right. The sooner Narid was well enough to leave, the better.

  Spotting Dena, Narid hopped down and came over to stand next to her. “Good morning.”

  She inclined her head in return and gestured toward where he’d been exercising. He grinned.

  “I was trained by the monks on High Reach, you know. They taught me all sorts of secrets.” He set his hand against Dena’s arm. “I could teach you.”

  The techniques taught by the monks weren’t so different from what Dena had learned. The only real difference was that Dena used music as the medium to manipulate energy, and those from High Reach used pure physicality. Narid must have been a good student; his touch was tingling and hot. Too hot. Dena couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She ought to push him away, but she couldn’t focus enough to make her body move.

  Narid held up the sword, its blade glinting in the sunlight. “It’s a beautiful weapon. Spelled, isn’t it? It doesn’t strike me as being yours, though. Who did it belong to? Your brother?”

  Dena shook her head.

  “Your father? Your uncle?” He winked. “Your lover?”

  All the pleasure of the morning vanished. Anger finally gave her the strength to shove Narid away.

  “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Where is he?”

  Dena made a slicing motion across her throat.

  “How?”

  Patience gone, Dena snatched the sword and carried it inside the hut where she sheathed it and set it reverently back into its place in the corner. She glared at the boy, pleased at the way he cringed.

  But it wasn’t long before Narid had his shirt on and the trunk open as he rifled through its contents. The weapons he handled with casual proficiency, but he set them all aside in favor of the instruments: three different kinds of flutes, two drums, a small harp, and a lute.

  Narid’s face lit up as he unwrapped and held out the lute. “This is your weapon, isn’t it? Play for me. Please.”

  Play for me. Please, Korinth said, mocking Narid. You’re not his servant. You owe him nothing. Don’t waste your talent on a whore.

  Gingerly, Dena took the lute and ran her hands over the polished wood, the instrument as familiar as the hull of the Egret had once been. The strings were old, stretched, out of tune. Narid waited patiently, silent as Dena plucked and adjusted the numerous strings.

  At last she was satisfied with the pitch, though the overall tone left something to be desired. She played a few tentative notes, expecting to have lost her skill, but she was surprised to find that her fingers still remembered the chords. The first song was a repetitive sea shanty, and once her confidence built she launched into a fast-paced jig, one of her most-requested pieces when she’d been aboard the Egret. When her hands began to tire, she softened into a lament about the beauty of the sea and the price one paid to live upon it.

  Narid reached into the pile of weapons and withdrew the pair of daggers Dena had kept in her boots to use against any unsavory company. As she played, Narid moved in time to the music, twirling the blades in his hand. He wove his arms back and forth, fingers and flesh dangerously close to the sharpened edges, but he had such control that she never feared he would cut himself. Each movement was deliberately crafted to draw in power and keep it for use. Narid was still young, still raw, but he had such potential. A thread of magic wove effortlessly between them and she latched on, finding a tenderness there that Korinth had never possessed.

  Softness will get you killed in a storm. Don’t be such a weakling. This child is not, and will never be, the mage I was. I taught you better than to lower yourself to such filth.

  Korinth’s mental slap sent a bolt of agony through her head, one bad enough that the song died in a discordant clash.

  She closed her eyes until the pain passed, and when it did she opened them to see Narid gazing at her. The daggers rested in his lap. “What happened? And no, don’t tell me it’s just a headache. Something triggered it. I felt it.”

  Dena shrugged, having neither the means nor the will to explain.

  Narid held out his hands. “Want me to help?”

  Ignoring him, she wrapped the lute in its cloth and tucked it back into its bag. She strode from the hut and out toward the shore.

  The sea had always been a comfort to Dena, but now, as she sat on one of the boulders and fingered the ring Korinth had given her, it seemed more of a threat. Narid’s sudden appearance had upended the careful, quiet life Dena had made for herself, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  It’s all your fault, Korinth pointed out. I gave you everything you could have wanted, and you ruined it.

  I made a choice.

  A poor one.

  She was still sitting facing the sea when Narid came up beside her. “I’m sorry.” Narid gripped Dena’s shoulder, gentle but firm. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Yes, he did, the little bastard. He’s using you.

  Leave him alone. She wasn’t upset so much as uneasy at the temptation to welcome back what she’d sworn to set aside forever.

  Because you’re a coward. Because you let weakness cloud your judgment.

  Master, please.