She watched him brace beside her at the rail, his strong legs set against the chop of the waves, the wind molding his shirt to the hard planes and muscled curves of his body.
The stitches along his hairline were barely visible. In the slanting afternoon light, he burned like a seraph, his hair fired to sunlight, his skin like liquid gold.
A great wave of lust and longing seized her by the throat.
She took a deep breath and held it until everything settled and was stil again.
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She would not regret this, she told herself fiercely.
Whatever happened.
She could admire and enjoy him without possessing him.
Like admiring a sunset or an eagle or anything wild and beautiful and beyond her grasp.
Iestyn turned his head, smiling down at her, the light in his eyes and on his hair, and her heart—her foolish, female, human heart—quite simply tumbled at his feet. He tucked her against him, her back to his chest, his jaw by her ear, and held her while time and the world slipped away.
Water churned under the prow. Lumps of land rose and fel from view. His heart thudded against her shoulder blades, her breathing slowed to match his breath, until it seemed they shared one heart, one breath, one flesh. She covered his hands where they linked around her waist, trying to hold on to him. Hold on to the moment.
Until the arms around her stiffened and his heart changed beat.
“Iestyn? Iestyn.”
He didn’t respond.
*
*
*
“Hold on!” Iestyn shouted, his heart hammering in his chest. A wal of water reared on the horizon, gray and terrible as a ghost army, spears of debris held aloft by dirty crests.
Foam spewed and flew as far as the eye could reach.
He tightened his grip on the ship’s wheel, his palms burning. Sweating.
“We have to Change.” Roth thrust the sealskin bundled in his arms at Iestyn. “Now.”
The heavy pelt thumped to the deck. Iestyn’s pelt. Every F o r g o t t e n s e a 219
instinct he possessed screamed at him to grab it and go, flee, dive. Abandon ship.
Madagh barked, barked, barked, the deep, frantic sound echoing Iestyn’s own terror.
He swal owed the greasy panic in his stomach, prayed he wouldn’t disgrace himself. “You go. The prince trusted me to see the boat to safety.”
“Prince Conn would not ask you to die for his boat.”
“His boat, no. Maybe his dog.”
Kera stumbled over the rope Iestyn had used to tie himself to the mast. “Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. Her eyes glittered. With tears? But selkies did not cry.
Roth growled. “Not stupid. It wasn’t his idea to turn around.”
“He agreed. We al agreed. I thought we could help.”
Kera was a talented weather worker. But her magic could not turn the demon tide. The wal of water thundered toward them under the sun-washed November sky.
The bow hit the first deep trough and pitched. Spray shot up on both sides. Madagh’s claws scrabbled furiously for purchase on the wooden deck. Kera lunged for the rail as the ropes binding Iestyn dragged and held.
Chafed and burned.
The wrinkle on the horizon swel ed. Another wave.
Iestyn drew a shuddering breath, struggling to get his bearings.
Lara stirred in his arms, her slight weight anchoring him to the present. “World’s End.”
He could not speak. His heart stil pounded. His throat burned.
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*
*
*
Iestyn’s arms around her were ridged like ropes. His breath rasped. Lara turned, her own heart quickening in sympathy, a drawn-out, distant roaring in her head like the approaching tide. “Another flashback?”
She should have expected it. Last night had triggered one, too. Iestyn’s past was crashing in on him, his future rushing in on him like the wave in his dreams, inexorable, inescapable.
“Are you al right?” she asked.
He nodded, his pupils wide and unfocused.
“It’s natural for you to be upset,” she said gently. “You must feel like you’re losing your cohort al over again.”
His gaze narrowed on her face. “What?”
“Your friends.” The sturdy boy, the sulky-mouthed girl in his dream. Lara kept talking, saying anything, real y, determined to banish that black, blank look from his eyes.
“I know when Bria left, I . . . What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Real y? Because you look terrible.” Sweat beaded his upper lip. Beneath his tan, his face was gray. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“I’l be fine,” he insisted, irritation roughening his voice.
She slid her arm around his waist. He resisted leaning his weight on her. But when she nudged him to the seat on deck, he lowered himself heavily onto the bench.
The cable repairman shifted over to make room.
“What’s the matter with him?”
Iestyn ignored him, closing his eyes, al his golden vitality drained away. His head dropped back, exposing the F o r g o t t e n s e a 221
long, strong column of his throat. Just above the neckline of his shirt, his skin was red and inflamed.
She frowned. Redder than before?
