Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  “You’re right,” I sighed. “One thing at a time.”

  ***

  Meryn swaggered down the dock in front of us, laden with her pack and a satchel filled with goodies that Trudy insisted we take. For her extra trouble, I left Trudy a hefty bag of gold, at least double what she charged for each night.

  Jyn stalked along behind her, hood up but swords arranged in careful display. I was almost certain he had rested a bit last night. He wasn’t quite as edgy this morning. My offer to buy him unlimited coffee when we returned to Thrais earned me a large smile.

  If we returned to Thrais, that is.

  I hated the thought, but I couldn’t shake it. Wulfric couldn’t take my palace or keep me away. But I hadn’t picked up so much as a rumor about him in the tavern. Our flight from the palace was common chatter. The Council’s murder, Wulfric? They weren’t even whispered in the corners.

  A warm weight pressed into my arm. Camion had slipped beside me, cloak hiding the concern I knew creased his features. I hadn’t realized I had stopped walking. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Yes. I will be.”

  I stepped forward, took a breath—and let myself really take in the massive ship in front of us. Andimir clearly cared for the vessel. Dark wood gleamed with polish, the golden accents sparkling bright in the sun, Wayward Dawn painted on the side beneath the bow. Ivory sails fluttered in the breeze, in various degrees of unravel. Crew members shuffled back and forth, securing ropes, and busy with loading provisions below deck.

  Camion pressed his hand against my lower back. I reached for his arm and squeezed gently before I stepped onto the ramp to board. On deck, I moved straight to the side, peering over at the water that slapped angrily against the wood. My fingers trailed the smooth gunwale. The light scent of lemon oil filled my nose. Soft coconut and hazelnut pushed that aside and Jyn’s hand squeezed my shoulder. I turned to face him.

  “You’re taking Andimir’s quarters,” he said, voice low. He tilted his head to listen as a crew member passed, then added, “His cabin is farther from me than I’d like. I might take a night watch, sleep during the day. I want more eyes on you.”

  Camion leaned against the rail on my other side. “No one’s getting past me at night, Jyn. If they do, you’ll be awake before they get anywhere with her.”

  “I can defend myself,” I reminded them. “I may not have Elvish speed or years upon years of training, but I’m not inept. I can get hits on Camion now and again.”

  Jyn’s shoulders lifted subtly. “I’ll consider. I don’t like taking risks.”

  “Where’s Meryn?” I asked, scanning the deck. Her bright red hair was nowhere to be found.

  “Below deck. She has the bunk above mine in the crew quarters,” Jyn murmured. He turned his head, and sunlight glittered over a strand of black hair that slipped loose from his cloak. “Andimir wants to speak with you. His cabin is concealed enough—no windows or cracks. Until we decide if we want to reveal ourselves to the rest of the crew, that’s the safest place to remove your hood. The decision is yours, though.” He cleared his throat as another crew member passed, then said, “Camion, go with her. He doesn’t want me there. Clearly the lack of trust is mutual. He said nothing of you.”

  “He knows you hate him,” I reminded him. Another shrug, but Jyn lifted his hand and muttered vague directions to the captain’s quarters, tucked beneath the quarterdeck.

  Andimir made finding his cabin easy enough. He leaned beside the door, an obnoxious tricorn perched on his head, the raven from the dock on his arm. He grinned, knowing my grimace without seeing. My stomach lurched.

  “Don’t knock the hat, Nat.” He extended his free hand to Camion, who shook without hesitation. “Camion, good to see you. This is my raven, Fetian.” The bird cawed in acknowledgment. “Let’s go inside, I have things to discuss with both of you.”

  He straightened, spinning to nudge a key into the lock of the cabin door. I reached for Camion and brushed my fingers across his forearm. A muscle twitched beneath the light touch, his small laugh smothered under an exaggerated cough. I grinned in delight.

  “You’re ticklish,” I purred under my breath. He trailed his thumb across my wrist, hood shaking back and forth in protest. “Oh, it’s too late. I’ve already seen.”

  Andimir’s quarters were nice, simple and, for the most part, unadorned. The bed was large, big enough for two people, and set against a side wall. A small desk angled one corner. He propped himself against the desk’s edge, crossing his legs and gesturing vaguely at our hoods. I huffed at the unspoken command, shoving the door shut before I pulled my cloak off. Camion did the same. I reached instinctively for the hair that fell around my shoulders, but covered the insecurity by pulling my fingers through the unruly strands instead. Andimir scanned both of us, appraising, then nodded. I raised a brow.

  “All right, well, I assume Jyn told you that you’re taking my quarters, yes?” I waved my hand in acknowledgment. Andimir crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to remove your cloaks in front of the crew?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  Fetian clambered up his arm, sitting delicately on the pirate’s shoulder. Andimir’s eyes lingered on the flare of my nostrils, then slid to Camion. “Since she’s still making her decisions about me, and being her stubborn self—do you need anything? Weapons, clothing, anything?”

  Camion shook his head. “No, thank you, we’re well armed. Why do you ask?”

  Green eyes landed on my face, then fell to the floor when they were met with a frown. “You’re guests on my ship,” he said finally. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

  “Don’t lie to him, Andimir,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Your concern is obvious, and appreciated, but I’m perfectly well protected with them, more so even than I was with Jyn alone. They’ve been teaching me to take care of myself, as well. We have all the weapons we could need. Anything else?”

  “Not really,” Andimir said, shuffling into a more upright position. “We’ll set sail soon. If any of you get nauseous—”

  “Meryn has ways to tend us,” I said calmly. Sadness flickered across his eyes. Guilt panged in my chest. Only for a moment, but it was enough to remind me that he was taking us south without payment. Despite everything, he was trying to help. I softened my tone when I added, “Thank you, Andimir. Truly. I don’t know if we could have trusted anyone else with our passage. Or—”

  “Your identities.” Andimir held up his little finger, crooking it in a gesture of promise I had almost forgotten. “Your secret is safe with me, as long as you need.” He took a step closer, shaking Camion’s hand again before he gripped my arm. “I’ll earn your trust. Jyn’s too. You might not consider this a chance, but I do. I’m not going to waste it.” He released his grip, waving at the room. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Then he and Fetian were gone, slipping out the small sliver of door that he opened. I slid the bolt into place and pressed my forehead to the cool frame.

  Camion leaned on the wall beside me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “You okay?”

  I turned to him, to the arms that opened without needing to be asked, and buried my face in his chest. Lavender filled my nose. I inhaled the comforting scent of him. Camion. Safety. His arms tightened, as though he could read my thoughts.

  “I’m glad I have you,” I murmured.

  His chin rested on the top of my head as he replied, “And I you, Tyli.”

  And for a moment—just one—that was enough.

  Chapter 11

  The ship fell quiet at night, most of the crew retiring to their quarters. In a strange way, the absence of creaking trees and shuffling guards was louder than the sloshing waves and gentle footfalls on deck. Everything about Thrais felt so far away tonight. Even the rhythmic sway of the ship didn’t ease me into sleep. My thoughts were racing, skipping over to Annalea, wondering if she was safe in Wydus by now. I prayed to the Ancients that she wasn’t
taken and that Raul was guarding her well.

  That they were both all right—alive.

  In a handful of days, I felt completely disconnected from my kingdom. Jyn kept watch on deck, at least for tonight, but even he felt leagues away. So many changes in so little time, with more to come . . .

  I took a long, deep breath. Balancing my life had become more overwhelming than I could have imagined at my coronation, and that had been daunting enough. Sailing to the island that held the Titans? We were tempting fate, especially if Eurybia had been released. Would she know I was trying to prevent her freedom, and that of her siblings? The person who held her Scepter had to know. What if my worst fears were realized? We might already be too late. All four of the Titans could be free.

  One was bad enough. We were about to plant ourselves on land completely locked in by water, the element Eurybia was strongest with, and we didn’t know what she was capable of. If she was free, would we survive?

  Would Araenna?

  Pain settled into my chest. My pulse jumped, skipping beats. Goosebumps sprang to life up my arms as a chill skittered across my skin. The air grew thin, my ribs a vice grip around my torso.

  I sat upright and fumbled with the blankets as I shoved them from my lap, my breaths sharp and jagged. Rubbing my palms over my cheeks, I tried to inhale and douse the fire burning in my lungs. Air was there, merely a gasp away, and I couldn’t find it. Shadows crept into the corners of my vision. The imaginary fist around my heart clenched tighter, while short, rapid hiccups shook my body.

  A candle flickered to life in my peripheral, followed by a gentle caress the length of my spine. Camion leaned close and traced paths over my neck and shoulders.

  “What do you need from me?” he murmured, his weight warm against my side.

  The sound of his voice eased the frenzy. I gravitated toward the sound, closed my eyes. As much as I wanted to sink into his touch and relax, my heart hammered thunderously in my ears. I tried to clear my mind, and attempted again to suck in air. Despite his soothing words, the soft encouragements, the clamp around my lungs held.

  Camion brushed hair from my ear as he whispered, “Breathe, Tyli. Focus on me. How can I help?”

  I moved closer to him and climbed onto his lap, then curled into his chest. His arms slid around me. A burst of air entered my lungs, cooling the burning and easing the pain. He pressed his forehead to mine and a sigh of relief slipped free at my small, gasped breaths. I savored the brush of his fingers against my hair, each tender, reassuring stroke.

  “How can I help?” he asked again.

  My body ached, exhaustion tugging at me. The edges of my vision were still dark as I filled my lungs, then murmured, “Talk to me.”

  Camion curved himself around me, a barricade of warm safety, and started to talk. His words were low, smooth and filled my spinning head with stories about travelers who had ventured through Thrais and stopped in the smithy. His voice rumbled through his chest, the soft vibrations calming to the waves of fear that lapped at the edge of my mind. I nestled closer, grew calmer. He paused for several seconds to tilt my chin up and scan my face.

  I pressed my lips to his for all of a heartbeat before I asked, “Keep going?”

  For a moment, he hesitated, then he said, “My mother was a smith, you know.” He wrapped me into his arms again. “I think my father hated that I followed in her footsteps. He seemed to think I was tarnishing her memory by ‘attempting to be as good as her.’ But I’ve seen my mother’s work. I’m not sure I’ll ever share her skill.”

  I adjusted myself in his lap, turning so I could see his face in the dim candlelight. The topic was strangely personal for Camion. I wanted to give him my rapt attention and clear the uncertainty from his words. His mouth tilted at the corner before he continued.

  “She was brilliant, my mother. Most of our ancestors have been smiths, though. Her grandmother, then her great-grandfather, and so on. Back and forth between the men and women of our family. Father didn’t want to tell me at first, to be honest, but after I found some of mother’s old pieces with letters from grateful customers, condolences on my father’s loss . . .”

  His throat bobbed and fingers slipped to the chain at his throat. He toyed with the rose gold ring hanging there. The pink quartz sparkled in the dim light. “I knew what I had to do with my life, then. I mean, I had a little interest in smithing before that, but I didn’t know very much. Fentyn taught me well, back in the days before he was completely intoxicated before noon. I think the amount he drank increased with the level of my skill. But I couldn’t help thinking that, if my mother couldn’t continue on, I could at least honor her memory with the gift she’d passed on.”

  “Your mother would be incredibly proud of you,” I said.

  He leaned forward and brushed his lips across my forehead. “I hope so,” he whispered. His breath was warm against my skin. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes,” I said, letting him tuck me into his side before pulling me under the blankets again. My thumb traced the line of stubble along his jaw, pausing at his chin. “I’m grateful I have you.”

  “And I you. Were you awake long?”

  “No,” I said. “Everything is just—”

  “Too much?” His eyes were soft.

  “No. Not too much. A lot, though.” I paused. “Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He rolled onto his side long enough to blow out the candle next to him, scooping me back to his side when he laid back. “But next time, wake me, yes? Taking care of each other is part of the job description.”

  I could hear the tease in his voice, but I nodded. “How did you know? What to do, I mean?”

  “I knew a girl,” he confessed. His voice was reverent. My fingers resumed their gentle exploration of his face, tracing the soft lines of his nose, lips, brow. He leaned into the touch, a soft hum rumbling in his throat before he added, “When we were small, she would shut down completely over the smallest things. An item would be misplaced, and she would hyperventilate and cry, retreating into herself. At first, I didn’t know what to do. None of the adults seemed to be able to help her. They’d overreact and ridicule her . . . and make everything worse. After a while, I realized the one thing no one ever did was ask her how to help.”

  “You loved her?” I asked. The question was rhetorical, though. I could hear the emotion in his voice.

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “We were young. Her father didn’t approve of me, though. Eventually I got tired of trying to convince her to care for me the way I did her. So, I gave up.”

  My heart ached for him. I leaned closer and pressed my lips again his neck. “Her loss.”

  “My gain,” he whispered back, tilting my chin to capture my mouth with his.

  ***

  Meryn’s lips curled up, eyebrow raised in smug satisfaction. Her fingers tightened over a round piece of mahogany-colored wood, sliding it forward on a checkered board, and onto a dark space. Andimir had offered the game up for entertainment this morning. So far, Meryn was unstoppable. Jyn had given up after his fifth loss, nursing his pride in the pages of a book beside me. I wasn’t sure what Camion was doing. Andimir had asked him for assistance shortly after we’d woken. I hadn’t seen him since. The suspicious side of me wondered if Andimir was pressing him for information, especially since they’d gone below deck.

  We had decided to remove our cloaks this morning, revealing our faces to the crew. The risk was high, especially since we were stopping in Lytalian first, but we agreed that knowledge of our ship-bound departure had to have been picked up in the bustling trade city already. Even without revealing our identities, the size of our group drew attention enough. When word eventually spread that we hadn’t arrived in Wydus, the pieces would click together no matter where we went. If anyone had seen and recognized Meryn, their doubts would be waylaid, anyway. We had needed a person free for negotiation though, and I decided that Meryn was brave to shoulder the burden.

  No fo
rmal introductions were made, in any case. Andimir said he had secured our privacy. I wanted to trust him. If they did recognize any of us, none of his men seemed particularly interested. I couldn’t decide which was worse: knowing they ignored us or knowing they did so because Andimir threatened them.

  The clack of pieces shook me from my thoughts and I frowned at the board. Somehow, yet again, Meryn had managed to snag the majority of my pieces. Most of my light, ash-wood circles were stacked precariously on her side of the game board.

  “Your turn.” Meryn grinned.

  I studied the checkered squares, but she had me cornered. Again. Any potential moves I made would only shove her into victory that much faster, and I couldn’t bear the thought of listening to another round of her triumphant taunts.

  A jewel-laden hand crossed the board and shoved one of my pieces forward. In a swift motion, Andimir captured several of Meryn’s pieces. He smirked. “I may have had some practice with this.”

  I grunted my thanks begrudgingly as the pirate dropped beside me, his black raven perched on his shoulder again. Meryn’s hazel eyes narrowed on him, then fell back to the board, her brows pinching together. Jyn smoothly slid to Meryn’s side, feigning interest in her pieces while shooting daggered peeks at Andimir. I sighed at the lot of them, thankful when Camion landed on my other side.

  Camion watched pieces shift across the board, then shook his head, gesturing between Andimir and Meryn. “I think only the two of them stand any chance of enjoying this.”

  For a moment, I watched his eyes. The ease in his expression, the openness of his face. I glanced at Jyn, who still regarded Andimir with wary uncertainty, and Meryn who was so engaged in their game that she stopped observing anyone around her.

  Confusion settled onto my shoulders.

  Part of me said I should still hate the pirate who sat beside me, so easily charming Meryn and Camion. Jyn might never forgive or trust him. Yet . . .