by Adalyn Grace
“If you need me,” she says with a grin so wicked I second-guess that pardon I gave her, “I’ll be at the tables, bleeding everyone dry.”
“You mean their pockets,” Ferrick says, a deep crease forming between his brows. “Right? You’ll be bleeding their pockets dry?”
Shanty only smiles. “I suppose that’ll depend on how the night goes.” With the tiniest wave, she disappears into the crowd, reminding me once more how dangerous a crew I’ve assembled. Shanty could have a knife to my throat in a single second, and I’d never see her coming.
Though I knew Visidia would change following Father’s death, I expected for it to come slowly, for the islands to need more support. Shanty’s right, though—what the Kers have done for their home is both necessary and ingenious. But it’s also a reminder of how quickly Visidia’s changing, and how little control I have at steering it.
Now that they’re getting training to protect themselves from the worst of the storms—now that they’re safe—all they had left to deal with was figuring out a way to drive more revenue.
And they have.
The sun falls behind the stone buildings, beginning a quick descent into dusk. Dazzling lights spark to life, bathing the night in flashing neons that are impossible to turn away from. They’re not meant to be a beautiful arrangement of colors like the ones in Ikae, but so flashy and over the top that they’re almost gaudy. And yet there’s something magnetic about them. Something exciting.
This is exactly what Kerost needs. This is their lure, their draw for tourists to visit and spend their money. They took what Blarthe gave them and made it their own, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt prouder of my people.
Like Shanty, I want to take off down the brightly lit streets and explore all this city has to offer. I want to find Ornell. But with the crew shadowing me, doing so freely is impossible.
I need a way to search without the others getting too suspicious. Right now, Ferrick is the only one who can know what my true goal is.
“You love it.” Bastian’s voice draws my attention, quiet and wistful.
“It’s incredible.” I don’t deny it; the evidence is written all over my face. This is the part of traveling I love more than anything—not only seeing my kingdom and its people, but learning how each island operates. Seeing their customs and getting to know them firsthand. I could read about the fashions of Ikae or the monstrous mountains of Valuka a thousand times, but nothing beats experiencing it.
“Look how far they’ve come in just two seasons.”
A smile curls on Bastian’s lips, though it falters when he catches sight of something on the street corner. He tips his chin to the left, and I discreetly turn to eye a merchant who’s set up at the edge of a thin alleyway. Three metal mugs sit before him, and he shifts them around on the table he sits cross-legged behind. A crowd forms around him as he lifts one of the mugs to reveal a miniature conch shell.
“Keep your eye on the prize,” the merchant tells a girl who sits opposite him. She narrows her eyes with intent focus as he covers the shell with the mug and begins to move the cups. His movements are slow at first, easy to follow. But eventually his time magic sets in, and the mugs spin so fast they blur.
Even as the merchant settles and the mugs still, the girl doesn’t look put off. She points to the middle cup, boasting confidence. But a frown finds the merchant’s face, and when he lifts the mug, nothing sits beneath it.
“You were so close,” says the merchant, feigning sympathy. “Care to try again?”
She does.
“There’s no way anyone could win that,” Ferrick huffs under his breath as we step forward to get a better view. “You can’t see anything!”
“Even if you could, you’d still never win.” Bastian’s got his arms folded across his chest, squinting at the merchant like he’s a puzzle that’s just been solved. “Once the mugs stop and she’s about to guess, watch his hands.”
The girl points to the mug on the far right, and sure enough, in a flash of movement so quick I nearly miss it, the merchant uses Valukan magic to alter the air so that the seashell slips from beneath the middle mug and into the sleeve of his coat. When he unveils the empty mug, he offers a shrug. “I guess it’s just not your day.”
The girl falls back, bewildered. “But I could have sworn … Which one’s it under, then?”
I watch the merchant’s hands, which use a mix of both Ker time and Valukan air magic to slip the shell from his sleeve and back into the middle mug with lightning speed before revealing it fully.
Still not used to seeing multiple magics used so fluidly, my heart skips at the sight. It might be nothing more than a parlor trick, but it’s one this boy’s skilled at.
Defeated, the girl groans and runs her fingers through her hair dramatically. “That was going to be my next guess. I thought I had it that time!”
And both times, she had.
“Gotta train your eyes to be nice and sharp like mine,” says the merchant. “You could always try again if you feel up to it?”
Though the girl looks ready to sacrifice whatever money she’s got left in her pockets to prove she can do this, I’ve no intention of letting her go broke for a rigged game. Not to mention that I need a way to scope out this town without Bastian and Casem breathing down my neck, and this kid’s given me an idea.
“Do you fancy a game, Vataea?” I ask, ignoring Casem’s tired groan.
A grin curls wickedly onto her lips and she loops her arm in mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Wait a second,” Ferrick calls as we start forward. “Did I miss something? What are we doing?”
Bastian shrugs. “I’ve found it best to just follow along, mate.” The buckles of his boots clink quietly as he tails us, and Casem and Ferrick follow a second later. Ignoring the protesting huffs and annoyed comments, Vataea and I push our way through the crowd, not stopping until we’re directly before the merchant’s table. His eyes flick up to me, skeptical.
“Would you mind if I try?” I ask with the sweetest voice I can muster, though I don’t wait to take a seat. The girl who’d previously been playing turns to me as if ready to protest, but I slip off the hood of my cloak and let the shock register. It doesn’t take long for the quiet gasps and whispers to spread like wildfire through the streets. Thanks to these parchments, now all of Visidia knows my face.
“Your Majesty!” The girl scrambles to her feet, mumbling a stream of apologies as she half bows and half curtsies before stumbling away. “Of course!”
Vataea takes a seat behind me.
“The queen wants to play my game?” The merchant tries to be charming about the way he says it, but beads of sweat form a line above his upper lip. This close, I see he’s younger than I thought—perhaps fourteen or so—and it’s clear he’s processing whether it’s worth letting me win. He’d be foolish not to. I’m the queen of Visidia, after all. And a queen should always look her best before her people.
By how much he sweats, he must know this. But as I press a solid gold coin onto the table, starved shadows darken his eyes. Though I’ve no doubt he makes good money from his scheme, a single gold coin is likely worth a week’s work for him.
“Don’t take it easy on me,” I tell him earnestly.
Determined now, the merchant nods and shows me that the shell is still beneath the far-right mug—and I intend for it to remain there. Because seashells come from the sea, after all. And mermaids rule the sea.
The mugs begin to shift. Slowly at first, then impossibly fast. The moment the merchant’s time magic kicks in and he’s about to slip the shell back into his sleeve, Vataea begins chanting quietly from behind me to keep the shell in place with her magic. I pretend to keep my eye on the mugs all the while, but as his speed increases, it’s impossible. My eyes have never been trained to follow time magic, and even if my life were on the line, I’d die before I was able to confidently guess which mug contains the shell. Vataea, however, is prepared.
>
The moment the mugs stop moving, the tip of her fingernail grazes my left arm, so gently I almost think it’s a trick of my brain, and so casually that no one else would notice it.
I point to the left mug.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the merchant says as he lifts it. “I’m afraid you’ve chosen—” The crowd roars, and the merchant’s face blanches when he looks down to discover the shell.
Vataea claps her hands together, feigning delight. I keep my eyes on the merchant, who clenches his fists tight on the table. His eyes catch mine, and I let my smile turn coy to confirm his suspicions.
He licks his chapped lips, frustration evident in the jerky movements he takes to reach under the table and grab a pouch full of coin. “Your winnings.” He can barely contain the spite in his voice. I reach forward, drawing back only my gold coin.
“I don’t need your money.” I point to the alley behind us. It’s dark and nearly empty, blocked off by his table and free from any flashing lights or curious ears. “But I would like to speak with you for a moment, if you wouldn’t mind joining me?”
I raise my hood and venture into the alley, the merchant close on my heels. Though glum about it, Casem obeys my order to stand guard at the edge of it while the rest of the crew waits near the booth, watching with sharp eyes to ensure that no one tries anything funny.
Not that anyone would be foolish enough to try; they still believe I’ve got my magic. And even without it, I’m not defenseless. I’ve a steel dagger strapped to one hip, while Rukan sits sheathed to the other side.
“Listen, Your Majesty.” The boy’s voice prickles with nerves. “I have some coin if you want it, but I’ve got a family to take care of. A sick sister, and parents who gave up too much of their time trying to rebuild our home after the storm. If you could spare—”
Reaching forward, I take the boy’s hand. It’s bony and calloused—a working hand—and I hold it softly between both of my own.
“I’m your queen,” I tell him, “not your commander. As I’ve already said, I don’t want your money. You do, however, need to be careful with that trick of yours. If I caught onto it this quickly, there will be others. And they will be far more sober and far cleverer than they appear.”
Beneath the dim oil lamps, his cheeks flush a faint red.
“It’s a clever trick,” I add, hoping he’ll relax. “But what if you never had to do it, again?”
He goes deathly still, so much so that I can’t tell whether he’s breathing. “I can’t stop, I need the money—”
“But what if you didn’t need the money?” I press a gold coin into his palm, examining his shifting expression all the while. Though there’s some confusion, nothing can outweigh the hunger that flares in his eyes, or the way his fingers twitch desperately around the coin. “What’s your name?”
“Ronan,” he answers as I pull my hand away, hesitating to pocket the coin as if uncertain whether I’ll change my mind.
“Well, Ronan, what if I told you I had plenty more gold coins just like that one? Let’s say thirty of them. You’d never have to risk this scheme of yours again. You could take care of your family.”
He uses a sleeve to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. Finally, he closes his fist around the gold coin and pockets it. When he looks at me again, his voice grows thick with determination. “What do I have to do?”
This boy is clever. It may be a parlor trick that earned him my attention, but because of that parlor trick I noticed several things. One, he’s a great actor. Two, he’s got the kind of face that blends in, making him look like any other merchant in these parts. And three, he’s desperate for coin.
“I need to find someone.” Though I know we’re alone, I lower my voice all the same. “But I have too many people with me to do it without raising suspicion. Do you recognize the name Ornell Rosenblathe?”
He shakes his head. “No, but if he lives in Kerost, he shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“I’m not sure that he does,” I admit. “But if not, then I need you to figure out before sunrise where he went. Can you do that?”
“Sunrise?” Peering up at the forming stars, he cringes. But one more look at the coin has him straightening his shoulders. “I can do it.”
“Good.” I nod to the coin in his pocket, the only motivation he should need. “Figure it out, and you’ll never worry about money again.”
I don’t give him time to change his mind or fish for answers I don’t have. There’s nothing I can do to help; I can only hope, and fight for a reason to stay here another day if Ronan comes up empty-handed.
The hunger in that boy’s eyes, however, assures me that won’t be the case.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Time in Kerost is nonexistent.
Hours have passed since sundown, and yet enchanted lights continue to paint the streets while the bustle and noise keeps them fully awake. The gambling dens remain open, serving liquor and taking bets with no sign of stopping. Casem pulls my cloak’s hood over my head as we slink into one, concealing my face. I roll my eyes; these people care little for politics, and they’re far too busy with their games to notice my entrance.
Coins are tossed liberally from one greedy hand to another, and workers call to us from beside tables and bar tops, offering ale and wine while imploring us to join their games. I catch Bastian eyeing a blackjack table with curiosity, scanning each individual face in the crowd.
I try not to pay too much attention, but his curiosity prickles within me, making my skin itch. When I can no longer take it, I ask, “What are you looking for?”
He straightens. “Shanty. She’ll be trouble if we give her free rein in a place like this.”
The way he says it isn’t unkind, but concerned. I’d even dare say it was a bit affectionate. Jealousy stirs within me, and I hate myself for it. Though I knew she and Bastian were somehow connected in the past, I never thought about the extent of it. Not until now, anyway.
“You know she can change her face, right? The whole point of her magic is to make her impossible to recognize.” The honeyed velvet of Vataea’s voice is enough to draw the attention of several patrons seated at the bar. They turn, eyes widening at her overwhelming beauty. If she notices, she doesn’t pay them any mind. Having been on land this long, she’s become almost desensitized to the ogling of us humans. Though, sometimes, I’ll catch her staring back at those watching her with daggers in her unnervingly golden eyes. She’ll slip them a toothy smile, showing off her sharp incisors. Usually, that’s enough for them to leave her alone.
“Sometimes there are tells,” Bastian argues. “Like a tattoo or hair color she favors, or jewelry she chooses not to disguise. Enough for someone who’s purposefully looking to be able to find her.”
“Just how well did you used to know Shanty?” Discomfort riles my stomach. I’ve no reason to be concerned about something so trivial, especially when I don’t want a relationship with Bastian right now. Still, I can’t help the curiosity eating at me.
The bone-white smile Bastian flashes is disarming. He knows full well why I’m asking, but to my surprise, he doesn’t taunt me. Instead he says, “I knew her before she formed the barracudas. After I first got booted off Zudoh, I spent a period living on Ikae. Shanty was my closest friend from back then, though it didn’t take long until I realized that living on the land wasn’t going to be possible for me. I met her when she was still learning her magic, and I know sometimes she can get a bit lazy with the changes she makes when she knows no one is suspecting her. She has certain traits she always falls back on. At least, she did back then.”
It’s strange, thinking about the life Bastian once had before the two of us met. If not for the trouble with the kingdom and the havoc caused by his brother, it’s entirely likely the two of us would never have crossed paths. Visidia’s a massive kingdom, after all. Even if I explored every inch of it, I doubt I could ever meet everyone. And yet, I can’t imagine a life in which I’d never met Bastian.
I don’t even want to try.
“Come on.” He nods toward a table unlike any I’ve seen before; it’s one with numbers on it, where those playing place bets and roll dice. I’ve no idea how it works, but considering that more than half of those gathered around it are several drinks in, it can’t be hard.
“Are you sure we should even be in here?” Casem demands, eyes darting around the crowd. His whole body is surprisingly tense.
Sympathetically, Ferrick places a hand on my guard’s shoulder, shaking his head. “It’s no use, Casem. Welcome to a crew that knows no reason.”
There’s a girl standing at the table with curves that could bring a person to their knees, and soft lilac waves. She’s on the arm of an Ikaean man with beautiful silver liner winged out into dagger-sharp points around his eyes. His hair is a matching silver against pale skin, and he stands tall in a sharp lilac suit, holding his body in the same way those proud of their money often do.
He’s got dice in his hand, and holds them to the woman’s full, frosted-pink lips. With a giggle, she blows on the dice, and he tosses them onto the table. When the crowd cheers, I stretch onto my toes to try to get a better look at what’s happened, though none of it makes any sense.
“There’s no way that’s Shanty,” I whisper to the others.
Bastian only shrugs. “She’s an excellent actor.”
“A little help, here?” Ferrick’s voice is a sharp whisper as someone takes him by the arm and sets a pair of dice in his hands.
“Your turn,” they say, and slap him on the back. He trips to the front of the table, and the woman who might be Shanty arches a curious lilac brow that has Ferrick turning red from his neck up. Hesitantly, he tosses the dice and rolls a seven.