Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  He released his hold to capture my hands. “If things change and you find you’re not past that relationship . . . Tell me, okay?”

  “Cam—”

  He brushed a thumb across my cheek and I hesitated, waiting for the words I could see forming on his lips. His mouth curved into a half smile before he said, “You loved him. I would be foolish to fault you or him for that. But emotions aren’t an easy thing to toss aside, even years later.” He sighed, shuffling uneasily. “I want you to be happy. Whatever that means.”

  I lifted his chin, sliding my hands to his cheeks before I replied, “I want you. Not a man who left me years ago to become a pirate. I have no doubts, whatsoever, about this.”

  “Either way. If things change, I’ll understand.”

  My heart broke, for the man who thought he wasn’t enough. Who couldn’t imagine he could be enough, even now, even after all we had been through and all that was to come. Camion meant too much to me. He was no rash decision, no second place. I leaned down and pressed my lips gently to his.

  “I promise you,” I murmured, pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “All I felt when confronted by Andimir was confusion and anger. And the urge to yell a lot of things I haven’t had a chance to say. Which, if all goes well, may still happen.” I winked.

  His smile grew, arms looping back around my waist and tugging me closer. “I said I’d understand. Not that I wouldn’t fight for you.” The confusion I felt must have flickered across my face, because he added, “You’re a light in my darkness, spitfire. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “And you never will.”

  Chapter 9

  Trudy reserved a table for our group toward the rear of the tavern, next to a window. My eyes were riveted onto the dock. The wooden boards seemed to taunt me, and all thoughts of food fell away. Not even the glazed loaf of sweet bread beside my plate was tempting.

  Despite having appetites that could rival my own, the men beside me did little more than pick at their plates. Meryn took a quarter of the table herself, distracted by the pages spread wide in front of her. Jyn poured himself a mug of something dark. Steam rose from the surface. As he went to take a sip, Trudy hurried over and nudged a plate of sugar cubes into his hand, before resting a small ceramic pitcher beside him.

  “I nearly forgot these. Then again, if you like your coffee black, feel free to ignore me.”

  “Coffee?” The raise of Jyn’s brow was almost audible.

  “Never had coffee?” Trudy grinned when Jyn shook his head, gesturing at the pitcher again. “The Dwarves created it. You’ll thank me later.”

  Jyn paused and tilted his head at her retreating form. He reached for the sugar cubes, though, and then poured cream from the small pitcher until the coffee was caramel colored. His spoon moved in pensive circles around the cup for several seconds. The heavy silence at our table was a stark contrast to the chattering room around us. After a single sip of the coffee, though, Jyn downed the entire glass.

  “We need this at the palace,” he murmured, pouring himself another.

  “Anything,” I said, distracted.

  In the moment I had taken to watch Jyn, I had almost missed the familiar form appear on the far end of the dock. He was late, given that the sky had faded from pink and was slowly darkening into star-flecked blue. Andimir dropped to a seat and dangled his feet over the side. His silhouette was bright under the climbing moon as he fed scraps to a raven that had landed beside him. I sighed. Andimir would wait. As long as I needed, or made him, whichever came first. Camion followed my gaze, squeezing my knee under the table.

  I brushed my lips to his cheek. “I’ll be back. Take care of Jyn and Meryn for me?”

  Jyn lifted his head, hood shifting slightly—I wasn’t surprised he had heard me. I drew very little attention from the crowd around us as I slid from my seat and pushed my way out the door.

  The streets outside were almost empty. My boot caught in one of the dips between cobblestones. I swore louder than intended, ignoring the faces that turned in my direction. My focus was entirely on the shadowed figure ahead.

  Dread resurfaced, weighing down my steps. I stopped to let a woman pass, a gaggle of children wrapped around her legs and climbing her arms. One of the girls, no more than five or six, smiled in my direction, completely unphased by the cloak hiding my face. I lifted my fingers in a small wave and her expression lit up.

  I was afraid of the emotions coursing through me, and the conversation that waited . . . But if we didn’t find a ship with a captain who wouldn’t betray us, the loss wouldn’t only be ours. I glanced over my shoulder to the girl’s tiny mop of amber curls. Took a breath.

  We needed a ship, needed to get to the Scepters. But Camion was right too. I needed closure. Remnants of a love long gone dwelled in my chest, and I couldn’t drag them with me forever. In my heart, I knew I had left all thought of him behind long ago.

  I still needed to know.

  As I drew closer, the raven jumped into the air with a caw and an angry flap of his wings. Andimir stood as my boots pounded over the wooden boards, his green eyes appraising my every move. His outfit was much the same as the day prior. Different fabrics, perhaps. The locs he had worn loose the day before were now tied back, as though he anticipated a fight. Maybe he should, if my anger yesterday was any indication. I hoped I could handle this like a mature adult.

  “Natylia,” he said. I inclined my head, gesturing to the end of the dock before I sat there myself, sure to leave a wide space between us. Andimir’s lips were pursed, his gaze trapped on my hood. “You really can’t remove that?”

  “Not out here. Have you not heard anything about what’s happened in Thrais?”

  Andimir shook his head. “I haven’t, no. I’ve been out at sea for months.”

  “There’s a reason I left,” I murmured.

  “Tell me. Catch me up. I want to know everything,” he said. The way he turned fully in my direction, crossing his legs . . . another flash of that Andimir appeared, the one who sat in exactly the same way to listen to my stories, or to discuss which adventure to have. To be my friend in moments when I most needed one.

  My heart ached. The fire wasn’t there, only mush. Soft, squishy mush that wanted to spill everything that had happened—Mother, the Scepters, the Titans. I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I stared at him while waiting for my lips to move and my throat to cooperate.

  Another minute passed before I managed, “What do you want from me, Andimir?”

  Hurt flashed across his eyes, even as the accusation in my voice struck home. Andimir took a long, deep breath. Then he said, “I know I hurt you. There isn’t an excuse. But if my words mean anything, I’m sorry. I—” I could see the words building. His mouth opened, then shut. I wondered if he would speak again when he said, “I don’t want anything from you. I missed you. And I’m not lying, I do want to know how you are. How you’ve been. So much has been happening in your life . . . Let me in.”

  “Like I did before? So, you can leave?” The hole widened, but instead of igniting, I felt like I was falling.

  Yesterday, I had been so ready to tear him apart.

  Today, I was bitter. Sad and bitter.

  I wanted nothing to do with his apology, or him. The calloused wall had slammed into place too easily.

  I didn’t recognize myself.

  “I had no choice, you know,” he said. “My parents decided we were going, and that was that. They wouldn’t give me the chance to tell you. I tried. Really. I begged. They said father had gotten a job opportunity in a new city, and we had to go. We were given a plot of land in Morland, a huge estate, more money than my parents could dream of—and you know we weren’t poor to begin with. I couldn’t believe they’d so willingly abandon your family, their closest friends, for a pittance of gold but . . .” Andimir’s gaze slid to the sea, following the path of the waves before they crashed against the shore. “The first year, I tried to run away. Several times. I tried to send messa
ges. But I’d wake in the morning to find each one returned to my desk. Father and Mother squandered the money. I guess that’s what happens when you encrust your flatware with expensive jewels. We were broke in a few short years.”

  “And after the first year?”

  Andimir hesitated, eyes falling to the dock. “After the first year, I thought you’d be better off. By that point I was sure you’d have moved on.”

  My chest ached painfully. Confusion clouded my thoughts. “And you never thought to ask us for help? Becoming a pirate was what, your first choice?”

  “You have to know why I didn’t come to you for help. I couldn’t do that, not years later,” he muttered. “When money got tight, I started working on ships. I would clean, or help with rigging, repair holes, scrape barnacles. I did what I could, where I could, and the money I earned was pretty decent. Eventually I moved to Dalbran. The work was steadier here. One thing led to another and I took over a fleet. I’ll tell you that story another time. If you want, anyway.” He shifted his weight. “But no, pirate wasn’t in the plan. Not to begin with.”

  Breathing was hard. He had reasonable explanations that I wasn’t prepared for. “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, when I managed to fill my lungs.

  Andimir glanced at my hood, frowning. “Talk to me. Throw me a bone, at least. You’re the queen now? Officially?” I only nodded. He blew out an exasperated sigh. “At least tell me why you’re running from your own kingdom.”

  I eyed him, debated. If he was going to take us to Emeryn Marsh, he deserved to understand the risk. I didn’t have to tell him everything, though.

  “The Council is dead,” I whispered. I paused to let the words sink in. His eyes widened and filled with questions. “We don’t know who or why or how. One member remains alive, to my knowledge, and that’s Wulfric. And no, I haven’t heard any word on where he’s gone. Annalea went north, to Wydus. I think she’s safe . . .”

  Could I tell him about the Scepters? Could I trust him? Would Andimir keep this most important of secrets? As if he could hear my thoughts, he leaned closer.

  “Nat. I promise you. Whatever is going on, it’s between us. Give me a chance, I’ll never betray you again. I’ll swear on any Ancient you wish.”

  “Did you ever hear any stories about Titans imprisoned under Saphir lake?”

  “Rumors, when I was younger. Nothing very solid. Why?”

  “They’re real. And waking up.”

  Andimir’s eyes widened again. “How do you know?”

  “A bit over a fortnight ago”—I gestured back toward the tavern—“we went into Emberlyn Forest in pursuit of one of the three Scepters that act as keys to the Titans’ prisons. We failed.” I choked on the last word, then added, “All we found was a fake.”

  “What do you mean ‘a fake?’” Andimir frowned.

  “I mean someone planted a fake version in the catacombs where the real one should have been. I mean I dragged them into hell for nothing.”

  Andimir shifted. His hand twitched like he was going to reach out to offer a comforting touch. Instead, he balled his fingers into a fist. I was appreciative that he seemed to believe me, though.

  “You can’t let guilt eat you alive,” he said. “I’m sure your friends knew what they were getting into.”

  I wasn’t going to discuss those feelings further, not with him. “The second Scepter is rumored to be in Emeryn Marsh.”

  “And you don’t want to raise Audri’s suspicions.”

  “We can’t afford the delay, nor do we want to involve more people, if we can avoid it.”

  “And that’s where I come in,” Andimir said, voice low. He stared at the water for a moment. “I have business in Lytalian, and on a deadline. If the delay isn’t a problem, I’ll run you and yours south afterward, as fast as I can. We can even take my own ship, it’s the quickest in the fleet. At no charge. I can offer you privacy as well, and my silence in regards to your secrets. I know that’s not much, but some of the supplies I carry are vital to Lytalian’s healers.”

  “Thank you. I need to ask the others their thoughts, but I’m sure the delay won’t be too much of a problem. Our other options would likely take longer anyway.” I clambered to my feet, Andimir following suit. He grabbed my wrist. I flinched. He must have noticed, because he dropped my arm without hesitation.

  “What’s happened to you, Nat? The girl I knew loved adventure. You were bold, tenacious, unstoppable. Now . . . now I’ve barely seen your face, and you flinch at a touch?”

  He couldn’t see when I narrowed my eyes in his direction, but he frowned as though he knew. I leaned closer.

  “What’s happened to me?” I growled, my voice a harsh whisper. “I woke up one morning to find my mother murdered in her own bed. I’m queen to a kingdom of people who have been trying to oust me from my throne, on lies and suspicions. I couldn’t stop the Imber Scepter from being taken, and there’s a chance the Titan tied to it has already been released. Oh, and I have to find two more Scepters, as well as my mother’s murderer, before they have my sister and I killed. And don’t even get me started on Lucian.” My voice cracked. Andimir stepped toward me, his expression frozen with shock, but I backpedaled. “You’re the boy who left. You don’t get to judge the woman I grew into.”

  “Nat—”

  I spun on my heel, boots thundering across the dock. Andimir called after me again, yelled an apology.

  Not today.

  My heartbeat was deafening.

  Not today.

  Chapter 10

  Andimir sent word that, if we chose to accept his offer, he would be leaving shortly after first light. Jyn had pressed for details the moment I had returned, but I asked for time to collect my thoughts and decide how I wanted to proceed. I still hadn’t filled him in, or Camion, who currently sat lost in his own silence again. The latter seemed particularly uneasy, even after I had curled into his side. His only response was a small smile.

  Andimir truly was our best option, my own unease aside. I wanted to believe he wouldn’t betray us, and that held meaning. At least, to me. Instinct had screamed at me the moment he had crossed his legs to listen, telling me to trust him. The feeling hadn’t been dormant since. One small posture shift and I could have told him everything. That easy, and I wanted to let him back into my life. In some small capacity.

  My fear was that he wanted something I no longer had any interest in giving. Or that his presence might increase the pressure already on Camion’s shoulders. I turned my attention to the steady rhythm of Camion’s hands as they cleaned and sharpened our blades. An anxious habit, one that spread to the rest of our weapons when his own swords had been thoroughly tended. Unlike myself, who bottled my emotions or panicked completely, he kept himself calmly in motion and tried to pretend nothing was wrong. I couldn’t bear it.

  “All right,” I said, exhaling slowly. “We have a decision to make.”

  I told them everything, every word that had been spoken between Andimir and myself. Then I waited with bated breath while Jyn paced the room like a caged animal.

  “I think you should give him a chance,” Meryn said, speaking to the room, but mostly to Jyn. “Besides, I trust Trudy when she says our other options are less favorable.”

  “But him,” Jyn growled. “He’s— He’s—”

  “He’s a reliable choice,” Camion said quietly. I glanced in his direction and he lifted a shoulder. “You trust him enough that you went out there. We can trust him at sea for a few days.”

  Jyn’s face was torn between anger and annoyance. When he settled, leaning against the wall, he said, “Fine. But one wrong move and I reserve the right to give him the beating I still owe Lucian.”

  “Deal,” I said with a grimace. “Let’s hope we don’t come to that.”

  “You can hope,” the Elf muttered, dropping into a chair.

  I shot a glance at Meryn, who shook her head. “I’ll take Andimir a letter of acceptance. I need to send another to Sylvr
anyway.”

  “Be careful,” I said as she slid to her feet. She waved me off, but I still worried. I didn’t trust couriers to get messages delivered anymore. Or to not steal the contents and send them on to Wulfric. Or worse. I knew Meryn would be cautious but, outside our group, my faith in people was diminishing fast.

  Camion frowned. “How are you holding up?”

  “I can’t decide,” I admitted, dropping to sit beside him. “I’m overwhelmed, but beyond that I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to feel. You?”

  “I’m fine. I trust you.” He bumped his shoulder into mine. “I’m more concerned about you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  He huffed a laugh. “Why? You’ve been through a lot in a few days, Tyli. Having Andimir show up, on top of everything that has already been going on? I’m starting to see the cracks.”

  I considered his words, glancing at Jyn who had perked up at the conversation. The snoop. I sighed, looking back to Camion. “I want to trust him. Reflexively. I almost told him everything without a thought.” My fingers slid into my hair and combed through the short length. “I’m confused. I didn’t think he’d have a passable excuse.”

  “You shouldn’t have trusted him then, Princess, and you shouldn’t trust him now.” Jyn ran his finger up the point of his ear. “Andimir has never been anything but trouble. If he’s sincere in his apology to you, which you say he is, he’s bound to be more discreet than other sailors around here. Still, for now, we tell him nothing more. We get to the marsh, we part ways, we find the second Scepter. And that’s the end of the matter. You’ll never see him again.”

  Did I want that, though? In a world where the people I could rely on were growing fewer and fewer with each passing day, could I afford to pass up another ally?

  Camion reached for my hands and pulled them onto his lap. “Why don’t we worry about the trust part as it comes? Right now, he’s offering us safe passage. Neither you nor Jyn might have a say in whether or not you see him again after.”