Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  “You’ve been staring at books for days. You have to be exhausted,” I said. My fingers slipped to my hair and subconsciously tugged at a lock. Camion caught my hand in his, resting them on his lap. I shot him a glance. He quirked a half smile.

  “Well done, Camion.” Meryn grinned. “Good thing we’re going to Dalbran. We can’t exactly cross Audri’s land without running into one of her patrols. If we’re going to need a ship, we might as well go to the largest port around.”

  ***

  A day and a half passed before we reached the city, despite pushing the horses as much as they could handle. None of us complained, not when the journey to come had grown exponentially in the span of an evening. We sold the horses to the stables on the outskirts of the city for far beneath their value. I had insisted on leaving my personal stallion in Thrais for exactly this. If I had sent him back, he would raise unnecessary alarm and we didn’t know if we would find a ship to accommodate horses. The hostler raised no questions of the fortune brought to him by hooded strangers.

  Dalbran wasn’t quite what I had expected of a trade port. The stone buildings were large, closely pressed together, and split by roads and alleys paved with rounded cobblestone. Rats, as promised, skittered between feet and danced along rain gutters. Vendor stalls weren’t organized, instead scattered up and down the main road and filled with all manner of people. A pretty woman in scraps of crimson silk propositioned Jyn, dancing closer, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. When he huffed in her direction, tugging his hood lower, she turned to the next tallest in our group. Her lower lip jutted out as Camion draped his arm around my shoulders, her amber eyes curious as they tried to identify me.

  Body odor permeated the air around us. The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd sent me curling into Camion’s side. His arm tightened protectively, but my companions seemed at ease in the bustling groups of people, even Jyn. When I nudged him, he muttered, “Harder to see us if we’re surrounded.”

  Meryn claimed she knew a place we’d be safe. She had apparently sent out two messengers before we left Thrais—one to Dalbran, another to Sylvr. I didn’t know who she had used, or how trustworthy they were, but she appeared confident. If nothing else, I trusted her.

  She steered us from the main streets. The crowd thinned almost at once. I appreciated the space, but as she led us through a dark alley, up a side street, and into a seedy tavern hidden in a dark corner of the city, Jyn and I exchanged a cloaked glance.

  People were bustling around the noisy tavern as busily as they had on the street. Stale alcohol and sweat bit into my senses. I winced, tugging my hood lower as though it would help block the stench. Several patrons took notice of Jyn’s hand as he caressed the hilt of his sword in silent warning. A few still attempted to size him through his cloak. No one bothered us though, maybe because of the unspoken threat in Jyn’s puffed posture or the way Camion kept rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles in case of a fight.

  Meryn had no such concerns, bouncing right up to the bar to throw a wink at the busty bartender. The woman grinned at my friend’s bright expression and tossed a lock of softly curled brown hair off her shoulder.

  “Long time no see,” the bartender said. “How are you, my friend?”

  “I’m well, Trudy, thank you. I suppose this means you received my message?”

  Pausing to refill a tankard, Trudy nodded. She slid the metal cup back down to a man near the end of the bar, not missing a beat when his companion wanted the same. “The entire upper floor is yours.” Her eyes roamed over the rest of us, still cloaked, still drawing attention. To us, she said, “You’re safe here. Your business is your own, and I have no interest in involving myself in any kind of wars.”

  Meryn smiled. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you’re tipped handsomely for the inconvenience.”

  Trudy plucked a rag from her shoulder, waving the cloth toward the base of a small staircase. “Go on up, see that everything is to your liking. There’s a bathing room up there, but only the one. I can send my boys to fill and drain the tubs.” She paused, picked up a plate and ran the rag across an edge. “If there are any issues, I can find you other accommodations. There are only three rooms up there, and they’re nothing fancy.”

  The smile on Meryn’s face turned feline as she shot a glance toward Camion, then me. “No, I think we’ll be fine. Thank you, Trudy. If I can repay you—”

  “Visit more often, that’ll be repayment enough.” The innkeeper smiled, gesturing at the stairs again. “Go on. I’ll send food up.”

  I inclined my head in gratitude. Jyn tugged at my arm gently and I followed his lead. The stairs were solid, carpeted, and sandwiched between walls of the same smooth, amber-colored wood that lined the barroom below.

  Meryn led us up three flights of stairs before she pushed through a final door, saying, “Top floor. We won’t find more privacy anywhere in the city, and there’s a rope ladder hidden up here if we need to make a quick escape. Plus, there’s a view of the main dock from the rear.”

  “How do you know this place?” Jyn whispered.

  “I’ve been here a few times.” Meryn nudged him with an elbow. “Besides, Trudy likes to talk if she’s tipsy enough.” Noting the slight pause in my step, she added, “Don’t worry, she rarely drinks and never with anyone she can’t trust.”

  I slipped my hood from my hair and inhaled deeply, grateful this upper level smelled of sea air from the open hall windows mingled with laundry soap. Meryn slipped past me, latching the door. “Trudy will knock, as will any servants. Five knocks, no more, no less. We’ll have warning if anyone comes up that’s not them.”

  Camion and Jyn pulled their own hoods down. Jyn jerked his chin toward the door beside the stairway. “I’ll take this room, to be safe.”

  “Wise. I’ll take the one beside you.” Meryn wagged an eyebrow in my direction. “Don’t have too much fun down there by yourselves.”

  I rolled my eyes, but the thought of a bed had me turning on my heel. Camion followed, grabbing the handle right before I reached for it. I glared at his smirk, shoving the door open.

  Our room was large, despite the small tavern. A single window took up most of the far wall with a bench-style window seat built along the front. At least half the room was filled with the large bed, though a small table and a pair of chairs were tucked alongside a cold fireplace. I ran a hand over the soft comforter on the former, almost groaning at the thought of sleep.

  “Are you all right with this?” Camion asked.

  “Oh, now you’re shy?” I teased, leaning on one of the bed posts as my mind replayed a cold night in the catacombs.

  “I like you to have options. Meryn can tease all she likes, but the decision remains with you. I’m not going to make you uncomfortable by insisting we share a bed.”

  I straightened, dropping my pack to the floor. My cloak was tossed over the back of one of the chairs before I said, “This is perfect. You know I’d rather be near you, given the option.”

  Camion shot me a half smile, imitating my actions. I cleared the space between us and looped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. For a moment I stood and let his warmth and the calming scent of him wash over me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, running the other absently through my hair. I tilted my head up and took in the scruff on his jaw.

  “I thought we discussed this,” I said, running a thumb over his chin.

  He rubbed his palm over the scruff on his cheek with a small smile. “Yes, well. You also said scruff makes me look manly, remember?”

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I groaned. He grinned.

  Five soft taps echoed down the hall and the sound of voices filled the small space. I pulled away from Camion to tug the door open—food. I almost forgot Trudy was going to send up food.

  From what I could see of the large trays in Meryn’s and Jyn’s hands, Trudy had sent enough to feed us for a couple of days. I backed up and let them pass into our room.

 
; “She always outdoes herself,” Meryn muttered, eyeballing the spread.

  I was in no mind to complain. My mouth was watering already. She had sent bowls of steaming stew, warm bread, fruit, and four small cakes I didn’t recognize. The others looked as confused as I felt. I picked one up, taking a deep whiff.

  “Oh,” I said, reluctant to return the plate to the table. “Oh, this is chocolate.”

  “Chocolate?” Meryn gasped.

  “Meryn and I haven’t had chocolate since we were tiny,” I explained to Camion. “Drask used to sneak us bars on his visits to Thrais, but it got hard to find, and so expensive that, after a while, he stopped.”

  Meryn snatched one of the little plates. She grabbed a few of the raspberries from the fruit platter and scattered them across the dessert before she and Jyn retreated to the wooden chairs. Camion and I climbed onto the edge of our bed, tiny cakes perched on each of our laps.

  “My memories serve no justice to this,” Meryn moaned.

  I stabbed my fork in. The center oozed out, spilling melted chocolate over the plate. Camion took an apprehensive bite, eyes widening after he slipped the fork into his mouth. He caught my eye, nodded his approval. I ate a bite.

  There weren’t words in all the languages to describe the sweet, delightful sensation that filled my mouth. Certainly, nothing else in Araenna could be this delicious. While the others made quick work of their cakes—Meryn going so far as to wipe the rest of the smeared goo off her plate with a finger—I rested my plate on my lap and let each mouthful melt on my tongue.

  A light pressure shifted the edge of my platter. I looked up in time to see a forkful disappear into Camion’s mouth. When I leveled a glare on him, he smiled innocently, repeating the gesture. My eyes widened, mouth slipping open.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Camion blinked at me, lifting his shoulders.

  “That is the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, having the wisdom to bow his head in mock apology.

  I stared at him for a moment longer, then stole another bite before I pushed the plate toward him. His eyebrows rose.

  “Really?”

  “You’ll owe me,” I warned.

  “You name it. I’m yours.”

  The second half of the tiny cake vanished in seconds while Jyn and Meryn cast death glares in my direction.

  “That was an incredibly biased decision,” Jyn scoffed. “I didn’t even get to present an argument.”

  “I can beat anything you could have put on the table.” Camion grinned mischievously.

  Meryn snorted. “Do you want to bet?”

  Heat flushed up my cheeks and neck as they continued to debate. I busied myself with my stew, fishing the potatoes and meat out from under the carrots and celery. Camion nudged my arm. I peered up at him, surprised when he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, murmuring, “Thank you.”

  My heart fluttered, but I smiled, unable to find my voice.

  “A kiss?” Meryn rolled her eyes. “I could have done that. I could have done better than that. Especially for chocolate.”

  “Yeah, that’s—” Jyn cringed. “That’s where I’ll pass.”

  I didn’t want to know how red my face was. My whole body was flushed. Pushing aside the thought, I spooned more stew into my mouth and ignored the snickers and light-hearted banter Meryn and Camion still swapped. After the heat had simmered out, I spoke again. “So tomorrow we find a ship?”

  “Yes.” Meryn bit into an apple. Juice dribbled down her chin unnoticed. “When she brought the food up, Trudy mentioned a man who frequents the tavern that might be willing to take us. She said he’s a pirate, but a different breed from most of the men who venture into the port. That we should be wary, because she doesn’t really know him that well, but she would wager he’s trustworthy. We might want to think on that, though. I’m not sure pirates are the way to go.”

  I inclined my head in agreement, dropping my spoon into the nearly emptied bowl with a soft clatter. A pirate who might be kind enough to help transport travelers? One that was recommended, albeit with warning, by the local barkeep? My thoughts tripped over themselves as an old conversation replayed in my mind, over and over until Lucian’s words to me became tangled knots.

  “. . . the man the rumors were referring to was one of the pirates that haunts the Borean Sea and Corothean Bay. If that’s the boy we remember, we might be better off forgetting.”

  Well, I was starting to think the Prince had been right. Looking back, he probably knew and had tried to downplay the information so I wouldn’t go searching. I hadn’t felt the need to hunt for him, though, not this many years after he left.

  My appetite vanished. I didn’t want to think anymore on who that pirate might be.

  Chapter 7

  Mid-morning sunlight spilled through the window, illuminating a strip of jagged wood on the table before our group. We sat in a corner of the tavern, lurking, waiting for the pirate. Thus far, the patrons had been few in number—some leaving from the night before, some incoming. No one paid us much mind, but we kept our hoods up. Meryn was the only one brave—or foolish—enough not to bother with cloaking her identity.

  Trudy had spread the table with far too much food. I picked at a pile of fluffy eggs and shuffled peppers from one side to the other. If we were refused passage by this pirate, I couldn’t imagine what our other options might be. Trudy seemed reluctant to offer suggestions and, instead, hinted that we needed to convince this man at all costs. The alternatives, apparently, weren’t ideal.

  We could try to cross Audri’s lands, skirting Kalum in the south, but she and her husband meticulously guarded their borders. The thought of being delayed for trespassing, or to explain ourselves, didn’t bode well. I wasn’t keen to involve more people either, especially after Wulfric’s presumed betrayal. Sneaking into the marsh from the sea would be far easier.

  The tavern door banged open, not so unusual with the steady flow of incoming and outgoing guests. But the heavy thud of boots on wood drew my eye. I studied the man’s loose-fitted breeches, covered in long stitches and crooked repairs. His shirt and vest were tucked beneath a long black overcoat, belted loosely at the waist and lined with shiny silver buttons. I couldn’t see his face from here. His attention was focused on Trudy. I didn’t need to see his face for the sinking feeling in my stomach to grow, though. His long, curly brown and blond hair was twisted into locs that fell down his back, a mingling ombre of colors I had only seen on one person before. Small beads hung in random locs, with gems glittering in their ranks.

  Heads lifted in his direction, but no eyes lingered, not from anyone but our own party. Trudy spoke, her words too soft to hear over the constant buzz of chatter and the clank of dishes. If I hadn’t seen her lips moving, I might have questioned if she addressed him at all. After a moment, though, her fingers lifted in a subtle gesture to our table. The man turned, appraising us in a glance.

  I didn’t see what conclusion he came to.

  The moment he looked our way my eyes dropped to the table. Ice filled my veins as my heart thudded a heavy rhythm in my ears. Jyn stiffened beside me, a confirmation I didn’t need.

  I knew that face. The dark brown skin, the goatee laced with blond. I didn’t need to look up to know his eyes were a bright, sparkling green. Or that he was appraising our table carefully, and in the same way he had always done with new situations. Even anticipating this possibility, I felt sick. The meager food in my stomach tossed.

  In the five years that had passed, I had never imagined I might have to face him again. Dread sank like a weight to the bottom of my stomach, anchored down by the realization that I would have to speak with him. To ask him for help.

  A part of me was glad I still wore my hood. Still another cursed the Ancients for dealing me such a poor hand.

  Because nothing, not even the warning my gut instincts had given the night before, could have prepared me for Andimir to stroll into this tavern.

  For him to, possibly
, be our only hope.

  ***

  Before Andimir could get too close, Trudy had him by the arm. She waved at us, then led us into her cellar. Despite her assurance that we wouldn’t be disturbed, I didn’t remove my hood. If I had to face him, I wanted to do so on my terms.

  Him.

  Jyn was tense beside me. Anger vibrated from him in waves, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. I understood. He had been the one to watch me pick up the pieces after Andimir left. Had seen the mornings I spent watching out the window, hoping he would return. Though, I wouldn’t admit it. Not then, never now. I had poured my heart into that relationship, and the man in front of us had walked away without explanation. My first real loss, only a few months before the death of my father . . . Jyn hadn’t deserved the fallout of so much emotional destruction, and so quickly. He shouldn’t have had to clean up the sobbing heap of a princess Mother wanted swept under a rug.

  Jyn’s knuckles were white on the hilt of his blade, and I didn’t blame him for a moment. He didn’t seem to have expected Andimir at all, which surprised me. Lack of sleep, maybe, or too many things already on his mind.

  The latch to the cellar door clicked into place following Trudy’s departure. Silence fell. Andimir moved for a bottle on a wall shelf, taking a long swig of the amber liquid inside. His eyes roved our cloaks, our heights. Uncertainty tugged at his expression, mingled with a question. He couldn’t see most of our faces, perhaps, but his instincts had always been stronger than mine. Even if he wasn’t sure who we were, I knew he was piecing the puzzle together.

  Finally, his gaze fell to Meryn. “You look familiar.”

  In three words, breathing became hard. The air stuck in my chest, my lungs aching for relief. His voice . . .

  Closing my eyes, I took in a long, slow breath. I tried to douse the fire that sprang up inside me. I wasn’t sad, hearing his voice, or even remorseful.

  I was angry.