That voice reminded me of a different time. It took me to a past where I was young, experiencing love and sharing all the firsts that came with that. Back then, I would have done anything for him. Now, I wanted answers. I wanted the closure that had been denied me all those years ago.
Camion shifted uneasily beside me, picking up on the tension. My hand trembled as I threaded my fingers through his. He turned his cloaked face in my direction, concerned. This was going to be awkward. Camion was going in blind, unaware that the man who stood in front of him was the reason I had resisted my feelings for him for so long. Sure, he knew of Andimir, and loosely what had happened between us. But as I felt Camion’s gaze studying me, I didn’t know how to find the words to explain the storm raging inside me—and in Jyn.
But he squeezed my fingers, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand, and the flames quelled a bit. I could be furious at the man eyeing Meryn, but if he hadn’t left, I might have missed something much more. I might have missed Camion—a man with talents blessed by the Ancients, a heart of gold, and more patience than I deserved.
“I should look familiar,” Meryn growled, breaking my reflections. “I’m the Court Enchantress of the Palace of Thrais.”
Andimir paused beside her and his eyes scaled her dress. Recognition clicked fully into place when his stare halted on the crystals at her throat. “Meryn?”
“In the flesh, pretty boy. Did five years make you daft or have I aged so kindly?” She crossed her arms over her chest, straightening her posture, and then waited for a reply that didn’t come. After Andimir opened and closed his mouth a second time, she frowned. “You’re going to give me and my friends passage to Emeryn Marsh. No questions allowed.”
The pirate backed up, leaned against a wooden support beam, his mouth twisted into an amused smirk. He was making calculations, though. I could see the emotions flitting across his eyes. I clenched my jaw, trying not to pay much mind to the familiarity of the expression. He was still so much the Andimir I remembered . . .
And yet, as he took another drink from the bottle, I realized how different he was too.
His attention lingered the longest on me. I knew he was doing the math. Literally tallying the odds that I was under this cloak, measuring out my height versus his. He tilted the bottle up again, tapping his fingers along the smooth glass, before he said, “Not unless I know who they are. They can keep their secrets from my crew, but I won’t let anyone on my ship if I don’t see their face. Old rule. I’m afraid I can’t make an exception.”
Meryn hesitated and the confidence in her expression faded a bit. Jyn rolled his shoulders back and stood a bit taller, already an intimidating figure. Andimir’s brow rose at the motion. Another piece of the puzzle locking into place.
He knew. I saw the assurance breeze across his face.
Now, he was playing a game.
Camion lifted his free hand and slid the hood from his hair. I stared at him, lips parting in awe. He shoved his own safety aside because he knew Jyn and I were more recognizable. I tightened my grip on his hand. No one would touch him.
Andimir stepped closer. I relished the confusion that flickered across his eyes. “Name?”
“Camion.”
“Andimir,” he said, extending his hand.
When his hand was free again, Camion slid a quick glance in my direction, to the expression he couldn’t see. His face was bright with recognition though—and understanding. Andimir noticed.
“Do I know you?”
“No,” Camion admitted, shifting his weight. “But I know of you.”
Andimir shot another look in Meryn’s direction. She pursed her lips, refusing to help him. He studied Jyn’s hooded face, then mine. Back and forth. He stalked closer again, took a longer swig from the bottle than before. He took in Camion’s hand, still wrapped around mine, before his attention snapped again to Jyn.
“Hood. Now.”
Jyn sighed heavily, not releasing his sword as he slid the hood down. Andimir didn’t seem at all surprised to see Jyn. If he had any doubts, they were gone. Anticipation spread over Andimir’s face, shadowed by nerves. His throat bobbed, right before his attention fell back to me.
“Leave her alone,” Jyn growled.
Andimir shook his head. “All or none.” He met Jyn’s steeled gaze without faltering—not once. So different than the man I remembered. “I’m not ignorant, Vaalyjyn. Do you think I could ever forget whose tail you are?”
Jyn’s hand twitched on the hilt of his blade. “If you touch her, you’ll remember why I’m her guard.”
Andimir moved closer to me, circling Camion and I like a hunting predator. The scent of him washed over me, a mix of roses, sea, and tobacco that was unfamiliar from the one in my memories. He cast Camion a measuring glance, one that had Camion tugging me closer.
“So defensive.” Andimir smirked. “I don’t remember you.”
“We’ve never met.” Camion didn’t break his stare. After a moment, the pirate nodded his head in approval, sliding his attention back to the one face he still hadn’t seen.
“No. But we have.” My heartbeat was thunder in my ears. Jyn moved to block Andimir’s hand when he reached for my hood. The pirate clicked his tongue. “All or nothing, Jyn. I know you’re capable. But you know I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“The past has shown that’s a damned lie,” Jyn snarled from between gritted teeth.
Andimir winced, but his face quickly cleared. He clucked at Jyn again. His fingers brushed the front of my hood, then pushed it away. I swallowed hard, but my voice still cracked as I spoke.
“Andimir.”
“Natylia.” His eyes roved over my face, lingering seconds too long before he said, “You cut your hair.”
Sadness flooded his eyes, maybe regret, but his expression cleared after a moment. Camion’s grip tightened when Andimir still didn’t move, hand lingering a touch too close to my face. I took a step back.
“Will you help us, or no?” My voice wavered on each word.
Asking for help seemed . . . wrong. Subconsciously, I released Camion’s hand to cross my arms over my chest, only realizing I’d done so when his eyebrow rose in confusion. Before I could remedy the gesture, Andimir stepped closer again. The hard lines of his face softened at my familiar posturing.
“Natylia. You need to let me explain.”
My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. Meryn stepped behind Jyn and tugged on my arm. I ignored her at first, wary of taking my eyes off Andimir. But when she persisted, I spared her a glance.
“Be careful,” she mouthed, panic edging her tone.
I looked down. In my distraction, I hadn’t noticed the purple and blue sparkles flickering between my fingertips. I didn’t feel them. When I peeked at Meryn again, she shrugged and then motioned to my pockets. I stumbled to recover, anxious that Andimir had seen, and hurried to conceal the wordless conversation and my hands both.
“I need you to help us get south undetected,” I snapped. “That’s all I need from you.”
Andimir scanned my expression, the set line of my lips. I clenched my teeth under his appraisal. Jyn cracked his fingers and rolled his neck, not as casually as he seemed to think. Whatever Andimir saw in my face, he didn’t seem to have noticed my magic.
“You’ll get your transport if you agree to talk to me,” he said finally. “Alone.”
“Not going to happen,” Jyn growled. “Her life is in enough danger. I’m certainly not going to let her out of my sight for the likes of you.”
“What do you mean, in danger?” Andimir’s eyes locked onto mine. “Natylia, what’s going on?”
“You don’t get to address me casually.” The rancor in my voice surprised me. I couldn’t let my temper get the best of me, not now. Nonetheless, I added, “Answer the question.”
“You know I could never deny you, My Princess.” His taunt didn’t reach his eyes, no smile on his lips.
“Your queen,” Meryn corrected.
&nbs
p; Andimir’s eyes widened, then his brows drew together as he realized the implications. Wisely, he didn’t ask, instead amending, “I could never deny you, My Queen.”
Still, my nostrils flared. Fire lit in my stomach again. “You’re a pirate. I am your nothing.”
He hesitated. Only a heartbeat, though. Then he drained the bottle in his hand. The wheels were turning again. He carefully considered each word, the expression on his face a blow to my memories. The back and forth was dizzying. Old Andimir. New.
“I’ve made my offer, Natylia. Jyn can stay in visual range, I don’t care. I want a chance to explain.” He sighed. “I need to explain. Uninterrupted. I owe you that much.”
“I have no interest in your excuses.”
“Natylia.” Silver beaded along the rim of his eyes. “I really did miss you.”
Jyn’s jaw flexed. I waved him down.
“I didn’t miss you.” A lie. But right now, I wanted away from this confusing situation, this man who should have stayed gone. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.
I looped my hand through Camion’s arm and clung a bit too tightly as I tugged him toward Jyn, whose arm I also grabbed as I stormed past. Before I unlatched the door, we pulled our hoods up. Meryn turned her attention back to Andimir, who stood in quiet shock behind us.
“Meet me at the docks near sunset. If you’re lucky, maybe I won’t be the one waiting.” Meryn paused, glancing toward me. “One way or another, she’ll give you her answer before nightfall.”
Andimir dipped his head slightly. “All I ask is the chance.”
Chapter 8
No one spoke. We had all filtered into the room Camion and I shared, but no one seemed to have words. Minutes passed. I lost track of how many.
I sat perched on the window seat, knees pulled up to my chest. At three floors up, anyone who saw my face would have no way of knowing who I was, and I took advantage of that fact. I peered across the buildings that fell away to endless blue, the only sounds around us the soft, crashing waves, the shrill cries of seagulls.
My emotions were a muddled mess. Andimir. A person I had once known as well as I knew my own mind. Who now ran a fine line between familiar and stranger, and had stood in front of me looking as though almost no time had passed. Rage had been an unexpected response. Fury still simmered quietly beneath my skin, keeping my temper at the forefront from the sting of betrayal that should have, by now, been calm.
I had always imagined that if I saw Andimir again the pain would return. Or I would feel numb, or at least an emotion that made sense after so many years of distance.
All I felt was anger.
Hiding my suspicions had put my friends in an uncomfortable position as well. I knew I had told Jyn about Lucian’s hunch, but a lot had happened since then. Vocalizing my concerns would have refreshed the conversation. And Camion . . . I owed him better than a blind introduction to a person he knew was an integral part of my past. His silence was perhaps the most deafening.
When we were small, Andimir was my best friend. My closest companion. I had thrown tantrums over, been punished for, and grown up with this man. We had gone on adventures, laid pranks for the guards, stolen sweets from the kitchens . . . Before he left, we had reached a level of understanding that let us communicate entire conversations in a few glances. He could finish my sentences as accurately as I could predict his reactions.
And in all those years, I had never seen anyone else as my king.
None of those feelings rose, though, when seeing him here. The affection, the warmth, the trust—they were all buried under a thick layer of anger, fanned by the knowledge that those softer emotions had ever existed. What had Andimir done with his life? He was born to a noble family that very well could have been a right-hand to the Palace of Thrais. His family had been close to mine, closer even than the Northern royalty. They had wealth beyond most of the kingdom.
So why did he throw everything away? I couldn’t believe that a pirate’s life was so luxurious that he preferred his ship to having everything handed to him on a silver platter.
Then again, I had all the advantages he did. All the same schooling. More, in my case, and I had remained a thorn in my parent’s side. Always nudging their boundaries and seeking adventures into the forests. Andimir was the one who had taught me that love of exploring, had been the one to help test the limits of my comfort while encouraging me to keep going. I shouldn’t be surprised that the moment he had the chance, he flew.
Maybe I was bitter that when he had, he hadn’t taken me with him.
A heavy sigh slipped from my lips. I rested my back against the wooden window frame. Jyn ran a finger down the flat of his dagger blade, his jaw twitching as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.
From the way her eyes kept flitting in my direction, I knew Meryn was brimming with questions. Suspicions about my unexpected magic as well, if her stolen glances at my fingertips were any indication. Unlike the stiff postures the other two held, she was sprawled over the bed with a book spread wide. The difference was comforting.
Finally, I let my eyes fall to Camion. He sat still—too still—the only movement the soft, steady brush of a whetstone over his blade. His eyes were locked onto a knot on the floorboard. When I shifted my weight, he didn’t flinch. What I would give to know what he was thinking . . .
Or perhaps I didn’t want to know. He had to know I didn’t want anyone but him. I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut. How could I explain what he meant to me that wouldn’t sound crazy? Camion had an easier way with his words. He was braver than I when expressing how he felt.
Jyn spoke then, bringing my deliberations to a halt. His hand was wrapped tight around the hilt of his dagger. “Princess, I don’t like this.”
“Of course, you don’t.” I sighed. “I don’t see that we have much choice, though. I’m going to have to hear him out.”
“We can find another ship,” Meryn offered, shifting upright. She perched on the edge of the bed, resting her chin on her palms, elbows on her knees, when she continued. “But I know your past, and I remember that boy. Betrayal or no, pirate or no, I’m fairly certain we can trust Andimir. The value of that alone might be worth a bit of added stress.”
“I’ve considered that.” I picked at a thread on my shirt. “What about the magic? What do you make of that?”
“Arcane magic is sensitive to life energy, literally feeds off it. Maybe because your magic was bottled for so long, your heightened emotions are causing a reaction? I’m trying to find something”—Meryn gestured at the book—“but thus far I don’t have any solid answers for you.”
I looked to Camion then, who still quietly pondered anything but those around him. “Your thoughts on all this?”
He hesitated for several long heartbeats, his body stilling completely. When he moved again, he laid his blade aside and came over to the window seat beside me. “I know nothing of magic,” he said. “But I do think you should talk to him.”
“Are you okay with that? Honestly?”
His shoulder lifted. “You need answers. The questions are written all over your face. You can decide how you want to proceed from there.”
I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “You’re right. I’ll give him the chance.”
Jyn growled under his breath, a sound so soft I almost missed it. “Andimir is nothing but trouble. Always has been, and now he’s a pirate. Your laws, your authority, they mean nothing to him.”
“I wasn’t always so innocent myself, Jyn,” I countered, keeping my tone gentle. “But I deserve to hear him out. To know, one way or another. And he may be of use to us before all this is over. We don’t actually know what he’s been up to all these years. If he’s sincere, he could be a valuable asset. You know that.”
Jyn huffed. “I don’t have to like it.”
“Be reasonable, Jyn,” Meryn said. “Nat can hear him out, then we can make a decision. Together.”
I nodded, glancing at Cam
ion’s face. He still gripped my fingers, but his attention had turned outside, to the trees on the far side of Dalbran. Unspoken thoughts were clear on his face. Words he would wait to share until the others left. My heart ached that he felt so strongly but wasn’t comfortable letting more people into his private life. He didn’t let me in, not completely, not yet. I hoped I could be worthy of the trust he had gifted me this far.
Behind him, the horizon line grew sharp, lit by the falling sun. The sky grew into layers of orange and pink, glowing from between the white puffs of cloud that skated over the sea. Shimmering light bounced off the surface of the water, broken only by gentle waves.
“I’ll have to meet him soon,” I murmured. Louder, I added, “I think I want to freshen up before I go down.”
Camion shifted, his eyes sliding to mine. Gratitude sparkled there. I was learning to read him, to figure out these quiet moods. Meryn grumbled under her breath about being thrown out but moved toward the door anyway.
“You’re the one who had encouraged her to meet with him,” Jyn admonished, as he climbed to his feet to follow her. He paused in the doorway, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “If either of you need anything, let me know.”
“Thanks, Jyn.”
He waved a hand before I latched the door behind him. I turned my full attention to Camion. He slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. Resting his forehead against my stomach, he sighed heavily. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
I traced slow paths through his hair, looping silken strands around my fingertips, while I considered his question. I suspected what he thought I was going to say. I knew the fears that pulled at him. What he didn’t know was that my thoughts revolved around the past, not the present.
“I’m angry,” I admitted finally. “He’s been here, all along. Thrais isn’t a hard journey from Dalbran, we proved that.” I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat and let my hands fall still. “Apparently, I didn’t mean to him what I thought I did. I assumed I’d faced those emotions years ago . . . I guess I didn’t expect I would ever be confronted with them face to face.”
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