One moment Xior felt the solid marble floor, the next the weight was gone, replaced by the sway of something fragile.
A sharp tang filled his nostrils, stinging his throat. It was salt, raw which carried on damp air that clung to his skin like a second layer.
He blinked against the sudden brightness. There were no walls, no ceiling and no ground. Only the endless expanse of water.
The creak of wood beneath his weight made him glance down, a weathered boat little more than a fishing vessel rocked gently.
Its mast was cracked and its sails frayed. It bobbed like a leaf on the rolling waves.
Beatrice whimpered, clutching at Xior's side. Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his coat, knuckles white. Xior steadied her with one arm, his other hand brushed the edge of the gauntlet on his forearm.
Alice leaned forward on the railing, her hair whipped by the wind and a wide grin formed on her face while her eyes reflecting the sunlight on water.
