“Jalisa!”
His frantic gaze scanned the wreckage. There she was—clinging to a floating plank. Unmoving, facedown. Crimson blood soaked her silk shift.
No. Painful dread split through his chest. He raced through the water, diving beneath wreckage too big to push aside. At her side he surfaced, praying to all the gods as he gently lifted her head from the plank to see her face.
She still breathed. His heart began beating again, then stopped as he saw her injury. A splintered piece of wood the length of a short sword had pierced her side.
He had once been stabbed in the same place. It was not a fatal wound. But it would be if he did not get her out of the water.
Cradling her still form against his chest, backward he swam toward the dinghy. He was almost to that small boat when the first dorsal fin sliced through the water nearby. Drawn by the squid’s blood.
Drawn by Jalisa’s blood.
The sharks were big enough to tip over their small boat. If a frenzy began, she would not be safe.
Kissing her soft lips, Aruk carefully lifted her into the dinghy.
Then into the water he went again. With his knife, he made a shallow slice across his thigh. A full night this had taken before, and he had not that much time. Better to draw them quickly and get this over with.
The first shark attacked from beneath, a swift nightmare of gaping jaws and dagger teeth. With a mighty swing of his arm, Aruk battered his fist into its head.
By the time the shark’s gray body settled dead onto the sea floor, he’d sent eight more sinking to join it. When no more fins were in sight, Aruk climbed into the boat. For the briefest moment, Jalisa opened her eyes.
Alive. But so pale she was. And still she bled.
He would not lose her. Had he known a spell, his own life he would have given to save her. But no magic did he have but the emotion in his heart—and the untiring strength that emotion gave to his arms.
Eyes blazing with it, he struck the oars into the water and began to row.
6
Jalisa the Difficult
The Smoking Islands
The fever was upon her again. But this time, her lungs did not seem to be drowning. Somewhere nearby, monkeys screeched. A woven mat she felt beneath her back, featherlight gossamer blanketing her front.
Restlessly she moved. “Aruk?”
“Shh, princess.” A soft rumble his voice was, and cool water touched her lips. “Be at ease.”
Her throat and tongue were parched. Thirstily she drank, then whimpered softly when he drew the water away.
“Slowly.”
Or she would vomit it all up. She nodded and the movement made her head swim. Her voice seemed a cross between a whisper and a croak. “I still do not believe there were kindly dolphins.”
His quiet laugh she heard, but when Jalisa’s own weak laugh shook her body, pain ripped through her side.
“Be at ease,” he said softly again. “I stitched your wound as I would a battlefield injury. But it will hurt for some time.”
And she was fevered, so still in danger. With strength born of desperation, she caught his wrist. Her eyes would not properly focus in the dim hut, and he was but a giant shadow looming beside her.
“If I die,” she croaked, “even though you would not have your night with me, please kill my father anyway. Or all of Savadon will be as Aremond is, and ruled by a sorcerer tyrant.”
“Your father is a sorcerer?” was his grim reply.
“No.” Such effort that short answer was, yet more effort she had to make. “But magic he always seeks for his own corrupt gain. Please. If I am dead, no one will hold him in check.”
“You will not die, princess.” Strong hands cradled her hot cheeks. His voice was hoarse as he vowed, “Never will I let you.”
And that seemed to be the only promise Aruk would make to her. But no more effort could she give.
Her fingers fell away from his wrist, and she knew no more.
* * *
Aruk’s promise he kept, and she did not die. Jalisa knew not how many days he tended to her fever, but his gentle care continued after it broke. With every movement, the pain from the wound in her side jabbed deep and stole her breath—and so Aruk assisted her every move, attended to every need that she had. No embarrassment could she feel, even during the intimate tasks. Too grateful she was. Yet still it was a relief when enough of her strength returned for Jalisa to manage those tasks on her own.
And still he cared for her. When she finally could stand and walk, merely crossing the small hut left her weakened and shaking. So he would carry her outside, where she could enjoy the fresh breeze and warm sun, until exhaustion forced her to return to the sleeping mat.