by Casey Odell
She weaved through the crowd, skillfully avoiding an aggressive craftsman that shoved a silver bracelet in her face. The upbeat music grew louder as they turned the corner, following the twisting road down to the square she saw earlier from above, the drums vibrating to her bones, the violins humming across her skin as a lilting flute teased her ears. Excitement filled her as the crowd became denser, the cheers and clapping erupting all around her as they watched what was happening in the center. Curiosity driving her mad, she tried to find a way to push through, standing on her tip-toes, jumping, but to no avail. The audience was too thick. Farron nudged her with his elbow then, and with a nod, gestured to a signpost nearby, the brick base just wide enough to stand upon. With childlike glee, Claire scrambled up the post high enough to see past the sea of heads in her way. Alan and Farron came up next to her, both already tall enough to forgo their own boosts.
Holding on for dear life, Claire watched in awe as the group of men danced in the center of the crowd. Each brandished a flag of gold or red to match the sash around their waists, the rest of their outfits relatively plain brown slacks and white shirt. But they weren’t just dancing, she realized— they were fighting. Or mock fighting. The clack of the poles rang out as they collided. The men dipped under and jumped over the flags in perfect unison, so elegant. Fighting as an art. A concept she hadn’t thought of before, though at times Farron had come close to just that. She glanced over at the elf in question. A smirk showed on his face and she didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.
“It’s to commemorate the men that fell during the Great War,” he said without taking his eyes off the performance. “And their victory over… my kind.” He said the last part resentfully.
She supposed she couldn’t really blame him. To be hated and discriminated against because of something your ancestors did in the distant past, it didn’t seem fair. She glanced around at the crowd. She had been so caught up in the festivities, she hadn’t noticed how people were reacting to him. A few threw uneasy glances in his direction. And hopefully, that was all they would do. They didn’t need another incident like the one in Lendon. That would attract all sorts of unwanted attention. She thought again about buying him a scarf, but he was way too stubborn to ever wear it.
The music reached a crescendo, drawing her attention back to the dancers. The men sparred, swinging and dodging, the movements becoming quicker with the music, until suddenly the men in gold fell to the ground, the men in red standing victorious over them. Flower petals shot up into the air from the crowd and rained down around the dancers. The crowd erupted in applause and shouts as the men bowed. Claire clapped right along, impressed by the display. Just when she thought it was over, the music started up once again, a jovial tune that lacked the power of the first song, but fun nonetheless. The men tossed their flags to a few men standing to the side, helpers by the look of them, and in turn, they tossed wreaths of flowers to the men. Curious, Claire stayed to watch. If the flags represented weapons, what did the flowers mean? She was about to turn to Farron again, when the men spread out along the square, each searching the crowd for something. It didn’t take long for her to get her answer as one by one, the men selected young women from the crowd and pulled them into the square for a dance.
The smile disappeared from her face, the blood draining away when she noticed one of the men motioning to her. She shook her head vigorously. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of such a crowd. But that only emboldened the man more. The people surrounding her turned and started to encourage her, clapping and smiling. They parted enough for the man to make his way to her. He held a hand up to her. Claire took it hesitantly, throwing an uneasy glance at her companions.
“Claire, don’t—” Farron started to say.
But the man pulled her down and into the square before he could finish. They joined the other couples twirling in the center. Claire tried her best to keep up as he pulled her close, following his nimble footsteps with her own clumsy ones. But before long, she was smiling with the rest of them, the dance coming more naturally the more she eased into it. The man said something to her in a language she didn’t recognize. She looked up at him and shook her head. He was handsome in a simple way, dark brown hair and brown eyes. His smile came easily and naturally, bright like the sun. Infectious. Claire’s own grew wider. She knew she looked like a fool, stumbling around to a dance she knew nothing about, but at the moment, she didn’t really care. However, she glanced around to find an elf that very much did. The dark cloud seemed to settle over Farron once again. Claire could only shrug. It was just a dance, wasn’t it?
But her unease started to grow again as she noticed one by one, the couples had stopped dancing. The men bowed low to the curtsying women and they placed the flower wreaths on their heads. The crowd started to cheer once again. The man she was dancing with stopped suddenly and bowed low before her. Claire stood still, unsure what was happening. The man just smiled, easing her tension a bit. He moved to place the wreath on her head, but before he could complete the action, a black gloved hand reached out to snatch it out of his hands. Claire whirled on Farron, her eyes wide in confusion. Just what was he doing?
“Unless you wish to be courted by this man, I suggest you not let him do that,” he said, anger clear in his voice. And on his face.
Claire’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the whole thing finally dawned on her. She looked around at the blushing young women and could feel her own cheeks grow warm. It was a courting dance. How was she supposed to know? Especially when the man had picked her of all people, and in the state she was in, no less. She peered up at the man in question. He didn’t look fazed by the elf’s intrusion. Perhaps it happened occasionally. Jealous lovers interrupting. How could it not?
“Well,” she said, looking the man up and down. He was certainly cute enough. The thought of a marriage with the man flashed through her mind. How nice would that be? To settle down in such a beautiful place, living a simple, carefree life. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
Farron’s expression grew cold and he shoved the wreath into her hands. “I hope you two have a happy life then.” He turned and stormed off into the crowd. People stepped warily out of his way, no doubt fearing for their lives. Claire could only imagine his expression.
A sinking feeling started in her stomach. Suddenly she felt terrible, pushing him away like that. To say something so cruel. She thought about chasing after him, but in the end, it would do her no good. What would she say? That she hadn’t meant it? That they could be together? She couldn’t give him that sort of hope.
She looked meekly up at the man before handing the wreath back to him. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, hoping he understood. “I am honored, but I can’t.”
The man bowed again, his expression a little sad. He tore a single purple flower out of the wreath and handed it to her. Claire took it and gave him a parting smile before turning to find Alan.
Alan stood right where she had left him, looking a little unsure of what to do. “Should we go after him?” he asked, though it looked like that prospect scared him a little.
Claire just shook her head. “He’ll be fine.” She wasn’t positive if he would be or not, though. How long had she been torturing him? How many times had she tugged his feelings around? How many times would she have to? The fact that he hadn’t run far away from her was truly astonishing. And even though that was what she wanted, she didn’t look forward to the day it actually happened. Perhaps that day would come sooner than she thought… Not getting on that boat in the morning would probably be the best thing that he could ever do.
With a sigh, Claire turned and made her way through the crowd once again, her good mood deflated. Alan followed silently behind her. She found an empty space along the railing and looked out at the sea once again, resting her chin on her hands as she watched the sun dip lower towards the horizon.
Alan leaned his back on the rail. “Th
ere’s more to you two, isn’t there?” he asked, his voice careful.
A short burst of laughter escaped her lips. “How could you tell?” She glanced sideways at him.
He met her smile with a grin of his own. “I just never thought that someone like him could actually fall in love.”
Claire chuckled slightly at that. “You know, I believe I said the same thing once.” She stretched, leaning back, her hands gripping the banister. “It’s… complicated,” she said, though that was definitely an understatement. “Do you choose to do the right thing? Or what makes you happy no matter the consequences?” She gazed out, seeing everything and nothing, getting lost in her thoughts. “Either way, there won’t be a happy ending.”
She could feel Alan shift uncomfortably next to her. He was quiet for a moment before answering her. “I don’t know, my lady,” he said softly. “I suppose if it were up to me, I would do whatever made me happy for the time being. But then again, I can’t imagine I would ever be in your position either. Though seeing what you two could do, your powers, his skills— I couldn’t imagine that anything could stand in your way.”
Claire looked at him again and he gave her a hopeful smile. “Perhaps…” She considered that for a few moments. But the reality of her situation dashed it away. It was a sweet thought, but he didn’t know the whole of it. There were people that could harm him, no matter how strong the legendary King’s Shadow was. And that was something she did not want to happen. But deep down, she knew it was mostly her own fears that were stopping her. “But there’s no point in wasting the rest of the night moping about, is there?”
Alan straightened, his smile growing wider. “If that’s an order, my lady.”
“That it is,” Claire shot back before leading the way back into the throng. A bit of distraction was exactly what she needed.
The boat was bigger than any she’d ever seen, let alone been on. It almost didn’t seem real.
The air along the docks was pungent, sea salt and algae mixing together with smells she didn’t want to recognize. Mist still crawled along the water, enveloping the bay, the early morning sun casting a golden glow that made the scene otherworldly. If only the smell matched the beauty of it…
People crowded the port, loading and unloading cargo from ships, travelers coming and going, as bustling as any major market during midday.
“She’ll have to do,” Captain Bahadur’s gravelly voice drifted down to her.
Claire eyed the boat once again. It looked fine to her. However, she admitted she didn’t know the first thing about boats. Though not as big as some of the other ships docked, it was reasonably sized, surely enough to suit their needs. Red decorated the wooden hull and matched the dark red of the sails, giving it an exotic flair compared to the others. A carved woman at the bow with her breasts exposed gave it the tasteful touch it needed, as well. Claire sighed. Seafaring was a man’s business, she was told, and they made no point in hiding the fact.
“It was the only one I could get on such short notice,” the captain continued.
“As long as it can get us to where we need to go, then it’s good enough,” she chimed in, joining the men at the end of the dock. Many of them had dark circles under their eyes. It seemed that she was not the only one to enjoy themselves last night. Farron was the only one that was missing. Her heart sank. Had he finally done it? She tried to push the sadness down. It was what she wanted, after all.
“And that she will,” said a deep baritone behind her.
Startled, Claire whirled around to find the owner of the voice. To her surprise, he was unlike anyone she’d ever seen, with skin a dark mahogany and a gold stud in his nose. His dark hair was shaved close to his head. “I am the captain of this ship,” he said, his dark eyes sweeping over her and her company. “And she is the fastest one in the port. She will get you where you want to go. I promise you will not be disappointed.” He smiled and gave a bow before turning and striding up the gangplank to his ship, shouting orders to his men.
“Only because I paid him quite handsomely for it,” Captain Bahadur said under his breath as he followed the exotic man.
The rest of the men followed suit, boarding the boat one by one, each carrying their belongings and the supplies they’d bought.
Claire stood at the bottom of the plank and looked up. The ship, as large as it was, bobbed slightly in the waves. She swallowed hard. She was going to get sick for sure, but it was too late to turn back now. Butterflies stirred in her sinking stomach. The boat wasn’t the only reason she was nervous. She took one last look down the dock, hoping to see a shock of white hair, but only saw a sea of brown and gray. She tried to bury her disappointment. It was for the best. But could she really do this alone? In any case, she had to hold it together. She’d have enough time to lose it in the secrecy of her bunk later.
One shaky foot after another, she made her way up the ramp, hands holding the railing a little too firmly as she could feel the boards sway beneath her. She gritted her teeth together. Oh, this is going to be fun, she thought.
She was already halfway up when a voice stopped her cold.
“I know you have trouble with stairs, but this?” Farron said, his voice as smug as ever. “There’s not even any steps.”
A surge of conflicting emotions swirled inside her. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry in relief, smile, or smack him. For being so foolish, for making her worry, for playing with her emotions like that. Anger was the one she went with as she whirled on him. “So, you decided to join us after all?”
Farron just shrugged as he made his way up the ramp. “I told you I wasn’t that easy to get rid of,” he said as he passed her, though his voice held more anger in it than usual. He may have decided to join her, but it seemed he was still upset with her.
Not that she could blame him. She trailed behind him, a frown on her face. Yes, this was going to be fun indeed.
She’d never been sicker in her entire life. Almost two and a half weeks had passed, or at least that was how long she thought it was. She’d lost track of time in her daze. It wasn’t until the last leg of their journey that she finally started to develop some sort of sea legs.
According to the crew, they were making good time. A little too good, with a constant wind that just so happened to be blowing in the right direction. Something none of them had ever experienced before. Something that she was convinced a silver-haired elf had everything to do with. But she wasn’t complaining. The less time she spent out at sea, the better. It was pretty, but she found she liked it better while standing on solid ground.
Claire leaned back against the railing on the lower deck and gazed out across the water to the horizon and the golden clouds of the setting sun, a trick the captain had taught her to help ease her sea-sickness. The crew bustled about, climbing up rigging to let sails out, a task that made her nervous just watching. Alan and the rest of the guards had taken to sailing rather naturally. The nights were filled with games and drinking, and occasionally even music by way of one of the crew members and a fiddle. Claire had tried a few times to keep up with the men, but mixed with her seasickness and the lack of sleep, it was impossible.
Cool ocean breeze nipped along her body and she drew her jacket closed. Her skin felt sticky, and the salt from the air and water was taking its toll on her hair. She counted down the days, or at least tried to, until she could take a proper bath again. A sponge and bowl just weren’t enough. But she supposed it was better than nothing.
A loud, familiar laugh caught her attention. She looked up at the raised quarterdeck where the helm was to find the ship’s captain and Farron, two of the most visually contrasting people she’d ever seen. He was letting the elf take the wheel, and the helmsman stood to the side, watching uneasily. Unlike Captain Bahadur, this captain had taken an unusual liking to Farron. Perhaps it was because of Farron’s surprisingly keen interest in sailing, or because of who— or what— he was. At times it seemed the two were inseparable. In any c
ase, the elf looked happier than he had in weeks. Claire smiled. Maybe this could be his new life? Sailing the seas, exploring exotic ports, away from the danger. Away from her. It was surprisingly fitting.
Her reverie broke when he looked down at her. Her cheeks grew hot and she quickly spun around, settling her hands on the railing. She’d tried her best to keep her distance from him. But it was growing increasingly hard, especially in the close confines of the ship. She had her own small bunk, her only escape. But she couldn’t spend the whole time locked away. More and more she caught herself gazing at him, whether intentionally or not, yearning…
Her cheeks grew hotter and she was thankful for the ocean breeze. When had this happened? When did she start wanting him like this? Maybe it was the simple fact that one always wanted things more when they couldn’t have them, especially when she knew that he may leave at any moment. But deep down she knew that wasn’t true. At least not all of it. The memory of his intoxicating kisses still burned on her lips, her neck, so soft in the dark night. His touch, strong but gentle. The way he whispered her name… A shiver swept through her body as the memories encompassed her. But this was her choice. One she regretted every time the nightmares struck. It took every ounce of her control not crawl into his arms at night. She was exhausted, and her resolve was wearing thin…
“I see you are feeling better,” Farron said, suddenly next to her.
Claire nearly jumped into the water in shock. She really did hate when he did that. With a few quick breaths to steady herself, she turned to face him, hoping dearly that the red in her cheeks had dissipated but knowing that it hadn’t. “A little,” she said, truthfully. She still got seasick, just not as much as she used to. “Practicing for the future?” She nodded towards the helm.