11
Lincoln and I ride in a Viking-style long-ship headed for Striga. Our cargo for this journey is a very self-pitying Connor along with a handful of stoic Rixa guards.
Thankfully, it’s a very long boat and Connor has decided to hold his self-pity party in the last row. Lincoln and I stand up front by the dragon-headed prow. Worry presses in on my temples like a vice. I glance at the Looking Glass on my wrist. Maxon is still seated against the wall of his prison box. His eyes are firmly closed. Hildy’s still protecting him. But that won’t last for long.
Try to take your mind off it, Myla. Working yourself into a frenzy will not help Maxon. Focusing on the task at hand will.
I force myself to look down and watch the outer hull of our enchanted vessel. Below me, the wood glistens with an
