Contents
Dedication
Copyright
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE The Best Nemesis is a Handsome One
CHAPTER TWO Anything You Can Do...
CHAPTER THREE Enter Captain Greybrow
CHAPTER FOUR Choose a Ship Wisely
CHAPTER FIVE Simple Charm
CHAPTER SIX Brenilsilté
CHAPTER SEVEN Those Aren’t Legal
CHAPTER EIGHT A Truce and a Dragon
CHAPTER NINE Such a Cozy Boat
CHAPTER TEN We Meet Again
CHAPTER ELEVEN Almost Kiss
CHAPTER TWELVE Grenalda... The Capital of Warm Welcomes
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Be Careful What You Hatch
CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Water’s Nice
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Chicken Couture
CHAPTER SIXTEEN You, Captain, are a Rogue
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Isn’t That Charming
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Now We Know (Do We Ever)
CHAPTER NINETEEN Games of Love
CHAPTER TWENTY Dip in the Moat
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Need a Key?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Pack Light. Adventure Awaits.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE It’s on the Map
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Not Your Average Bullfrog
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE If I Can’t Tell You Here
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Botanical Warfare
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Why Not?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT One Month Later
Coming Soon
Free Novelette
About the Author
For my readers:
You guys are the best.
Moss Forest Orchid
Silver and Orchids, Book 1
Copyright © 2017 by Shari L. Tapscott
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing by Z.A. Sunday & Patrick Hodges
Cover Design by Shari L. Tapscott
PROLOGUE
An Unfortunate Beginning
The elderly man across from me slides a stack of documents my way. His hair is white but thick—likely due to the new growth serum the local apothecary has been advertising. He wears tiny spectacles on his nose, and he has the kindest smile, the sort that puts you at ease the moment he looks at you.
“Sign here,” he says, handing me a quill. Then he flips through more pages. “Here, here, and initial here.”
A tiny firebird, a cousin to the larger, wild phoenixes native to Bellaray, sits on a perch at the edge of the desk, preening. His flames are light only, harmless, but he glows like a red torch. They’re dreadfully rare. He has me so bemused, I have trouble focusing on the task in front of me.
“Shouldn’t I read them?” I ask as I frown at the curly, legal writing.
The man crosses his hands on the desk. “Of course, you may if you like, but people rarely do. It’s all as we discussed. A common contract.”
I nod, nervous. “And we’ll earn interest on all we invest?”
“That’s right.” He pushes his chair back. “Would you like refreshment while you go over them? Coffee, tea?”
“No.” I shake my head and sign the pages as instructed. “I don’t want to take any more of your time.”
The banker smiles as he glances at the documents, making sure I signed them in all the right places. “You have the money?”
Anxious, I pull a heavy suede pouch from my satchel and hand it to him. “Five thousand denats.”
Using great care, he locks the satchel in his desk, promising me he’ll take it to the bank’s safe immediately.
He ushers me to the front of the building and holds the door for me. “Have no fear, dear Lucia. I will take good care of your investment.”
Satisfied I made a wise decision, I step into the street.
CHAPTER ONE
The Best Nemesis is a Handsome One
Dragons will singe you. Goblins will gladly boil you alive. Trolls will save you for a midnight snack—and good luck getting eaten all at once.
When you’re a scout—an adventuress by trade, you decide what jobs you’ll accept based on what you consider to be the least painful way to die—unless you’re broke and starving, and then you’ll take anything.
And right now, I’m broke. And starving.
There are several parchments attached to Baywhite’s announcement board in the middle of town, some more weathered and tattered than others. Most are announcing local specials including, but not limited to, twenty percent off charmed necklaces at Maurice’s Sundry and Gifts, fifty percent off arrow fletching at Germond’s Armory, and discounted magicsmith training at the local mage’s guild. There is also an advertisement for Celindra’s all new boil cream. And—hooray!—the pesky rash concern with the old formula has been resolved.
Apparently, I’m not eating tonight.
I’m just about to walk away, see if I can offer my impressive barmaid services at the local tavern in exchange for a meal and bed, when a small slip catches my eye. It’s off to the corner of the board, half-covered by an ad for the local artisan’s guild.
“In need of a Moss Forest orchid cutting,” I read to myself as I reach for the slip. “Will pay…five thousand denats.”
What in the provinces is a Moss Forest orchid? And why are the cuttings worth so much? I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ll gladly stroll into a dragon-guarded, goblin-infested cave and duel a troll for that kind of compensation.
I’m just about to pull the parchment from the board when a hand reaches over my shoulder and snatches it away.
“Excuse me.” I turn, irritated. “That is mine. I was…”
My words trail off as I meet the very green, very haughty eyes of the man behind me.
“Apparently, it’s not,” he says as he tucks the parchment into the inside pocket of his long traveling jacket. He pats the fabric, behind which the note is secure. “Because if it were, why would it be in my pocket?”
“You know,” I say as I cross my arms. “Sometimes I loathe you.”
Sebastian smiles, but there’s no humor in his expression. He leans down, meeting my eyes. “Then, Lucia, we’re on even footing.”
I glare at my ex-business partner/sometimes nemesis. I know Sebastian better than anyone, probably better than he knows himself. I watched him go from painfully shy to gangly, and then from awkward to striking, and I’m likely the only female immune to his good looks. We were neighbors, born a day apart twenty-one years ago, in the same tiny mountain community near the large city of Reshire. But where Sebastian is an honest-to-goodness lord, and his grandfather is an uncle to our province’s ruling duke, I am the daughter of a farmer. Sebastian’s family owns Reshire’s fine goods and alchemy supply shoppe and a plethora of other investments. My family raises chickens.
We’re not exactly equals.
“Give it to me.” I tilt my chin in the air and hold out my hand, palm-side up.
Sebastian snorts. Without a word, he walks away.
I’m left standing here, hand still hovering in the air, helplessly watching him leave with the only job in all Baywhite—a job that’s paying five thousand denats, no less. And it’s a day-and-a-half walk to the nearest town.
So, I do the only th
ing a self-respecting, nice girl like me can do when she’s scorned thusly. I chase after Sebastian, dodging a young boy with a sheep cart and various other villagers in the square, and leap onto his back, snarling like an angry cat.
“Lucia,” Sebastian hisses, trying to pull me free, but it’s no use because I have the grip of a meadow imp. I reach over his shoulder, into his jacket, and snatch the parchment. With smug glee, I notice we’re making a scene, which hoity-toity Sebastian hates. He must realize people are staring at the same time I do because he instantly stops fighting me.
I slide from his back, clasping the note. He adjusts his fine gray doublet, brushing himself clean as if I’m filthy. Which, of course, I’m not. Well, maybe a little dusty. But the streets in this district of the city are dirt, so that is simply not my fault.
How Sebastian is spotless, I’ll never know.
But he’s always spotless. Not a hair out of place, not a smudge on his clothing. Not a speck of horse hair on his entire person. I sort of hate him at times.
Villagers are still gawking. They stand on wooden, covered stoops, laughing and whispering to each other, probably wondering if the fine man will call the constable to take the deranged woman away. I ignore them, push my wayward dark hair out of my face, and scan the inquiry for an address.
“You want nothing to do with the Moss Forest.” Trying to contain both his irritation and humiliation over the spectacle I caused, Sebastian nods a greeting at a pair of women passing on the street near us. They flutter like he’s the duke himself and giggle together as they hurry away.
“We can’t all have a rich grandfather to run home to when times get lean.” I wince after I say it, realizing my mistake.
Sebastian takes two abrupt steps forward and narrows his eyes. Through clenched teeth, he demands, “And why are times lean, Lucia? Perhaps you’d like to remind me.”
I could apologize. Again. But I’ve done that already, and Sebastian didn’t accept it the first twenty times, so why would he now? And besides, how was I to know that the very nice elderly gentleman didn’t actually work for the bank? I was investing in our future, helping our little enterprise to grow. At least that’s what I was attempting to do before the kindly old man robbed us blind, taking two years of our savings with him.
It could happen to anyone, really. Sebastian’s simply being unreasonable.
Instead of answering, I walk past him, smacking my shoulder against his arm as I pass. Flear Street is around here somewhere. I haven’t been in Baywhite long, only a few hours, so I don’t know the layout of the village well. I don’t like to linger in any one place. If I do, the declarations of love start filtering in, and I have no desire to settle down with any of the local, desperate sheep farmers. Granted, most of the flowery words come from men so drunk they can’t walk out of a tavern. But that’s not the point.
“You’re going the wrong way.” Sebastian falls into step beside me. “You should have turned left at that last street.”
He’s trying to trick me, lead me astray. “I don’t remember inviting you along.”
“I don’t remember needing an invitation.”
“What are you doing in Baywhite, anyway?” I ask, knowing there’s no use trying to get rid of him. He’s going to attempt to steal the job. With his silver tongue, there’s a chance he might get away with it too. I quicken my pace, hoping to pull ahead of him.
Sebastian’s silent, which means he was, or is currently, on an errand for his grandfather.
“Playing delivery boy, are you?” I taunt. We’re practically jogging now, each of us trying to reach the home before the other but neither willing to run. “Did you get a nice tip? Maybe a copper or two? Why, Sebastian, you could buy yourself a candy from the shoppe.”
Despite my hurry, I glance at him. Warm, fuzzy satisfaction spreads through me when I see the tips of Sebastian’s ears have turned pink—a surefire sign that I’ve embarrassed him. He glances at me, his expression wry but irritated. “It’s such a mystery that you’re unwed, Lucia. Truly, it’s baffling that no one has asked a sweet, gentle flower like yourself.”
We’re all but running now, and moisture builds at my hairline. I wipe it away with the back of my wrist as I pant, “Who says no one has asked?”
Apparently, my answer startles him. He stumbles, almost coming to a stop. “Who?”
I take his moment of surprise to pull ahead, but all too quickly, he catches up, demanding, “Tell me, Lucia.”
I dodge two small children chasing each other in the street and avoid a man trying to sell me cabbages from a cart. “What does it matter? I turned him down.”
“If you haven’t a name, it’s terribly difficult to believe you.”
“Fine,” I snap. “It was Connor, all right?”
Sebastian comes to a sudden stop, yanking me back by the arm so I won’t race ahead of him, and tips back his head and laughs. I struggle to be free of him, but he holds me tightly, not about to let go. “Connor? Our Connor? Sells-pickled-pigs-feet-from-a-cart Connor?”
My face grows hot. “You are such a pretentious, high-and-mighty, pig-headed goat.” I bite my tongue before I go any further. Because I could.
Finally finished laughing, Sebastian grins. With his dark, almost black hair and artist’s dream features, he would look quite handsome at the moment, all sparkling eyes and wicked smile, if I could get past the fact that I want to punch him in his perfectly-proportioned nose.
The thought makes my lips twitch.
Instantly wary, he arches a brow, studying me. “What is that look?”
“It’s a look that says you’re going to have a fat lip if you don’t let me go.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
There was a time I could take him, but that was years ago. Still, I think I could get one good punch in. Maybe two if I kick him in the shin first.
Sebastian narrows his eyes, guessing my first move. That’s the problem with knowing someone your whole life. It’s hard to take them by surprise.
Dismissing the idea, I yank my arm hard. Sebastian lets me pull free, and I continue down the street. Together—though not together—we hurry through the town, winding past shoppes and the square of guild manors. Finally, we reach the housing district, and buildings grow farther apart. The houses are large here, estates really. They’re nicely landscaped, and several have enchanted water features that bubble ostentatiously in courtyards behind tall iron gates.
As we grow closer, I become self-conscious of my dusty, worn clothes. Surreptitiously, I attempt to brush the smudges off.
Sebastian glances at me from the corner of his eye, and his expression softens. “You look fine, Lucia.”
“Stop that,” I snarl.
He tosses his hands in the air, his irritation returning. “Stop what?”
“That thing you do when you decide to be—”
“Cordial?” he interrupts. “I know it’s lost on you, but most of society considers the ability to be amicable an admirable trait.”
“Snob,” I say under my breath, just loud enough Sebastian is sure to hear me.
My unwelcome companion purses his lips but doesn’t bother to retort.
We come to a stop in front of a gate flanked by two stone griffins. They spring to life, roaring a greeting when we are near. The magic fades, and they go still once more. A knot coils in my stomach as I look at the great gray manor down the drive. It towers over the garden, the picture of quiet nobility. Never in my life have I set foot in such a place.
Sebastian reaches for the unlocked gate, but then he pauses. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“A deal? What makes you think I’d ever—”
“Would you, for once in your life, listen to what I have to say?”
I snap my mouth shut, cross my arms, and glare at him.
He sighs, looking as if the words he’s about to say pain him. “We’ll walk up there together and offer our services.”
My finger twitches against the rough cl
oth of my trousers. “As in…partners again?”
Sebastian narrows his eyes. “As in I know you’re going to sashay up there, batting your eyelashes and swinging your hips, and charm the poor man into giving you the job. And I don’t want your untimely death on my conscience—despite how it may have its own justifiable appeal.”
I press a hand to my heart and pretend to swoon. “So chivalrous.”
Without waiting for an answer, he yanks the gates open and motions me in. I hide my nerves as we stride up the cobblestones to the entry. In front of us, a massive iron knocker hangs from the door, a snarling dragon’s face.
Sebastian, calm as can be, knocks three times and then clasps his hands behind his back. Almost immediately, a man answers the door. He’s dressed well in a simple doublet, and he wears his graying hair in a neat tail at his neck. But before I am put at ease, he looks at me with such disdain, I almost step back.
“We are here in response to the inquiry posted in the square.” Sebastian gestures for me to hand the man the parchment.
I dig it out of my bodice. The man’s eyes widen, and I regret placing it there. Clearing my throat, attempting a cool, impartial look, I hand the man the wrinkled paper.
From the corner of my eye, I see Sebastian attempting—and failing—to hide a smirk.
“Won’t you come in?” the man asks after he reads the inquiry. “I’ll notify Baron Malcomny you are here.”
We’re led into a grand foyer. It’s so large, I could pick up my family’s entire cottage and plop it down in the middle…with room to spare. There are hundreds of strange plants growing from pots placed on the floor and shelves. Vines tumble from planters and climb the walls. The room has an odd damp feel to it, as if we’re far closer to the coast than we are. A massive chandelier hangs over us, lit by the sun shining in through a wall of windows toward the south. I stand, bemused, staring at dozens of tiny rainbows on the ceiling.
“Stop gaping like a wide-eyed milkmaid,” Sebastian says quietly.
“My apologies.” I smile up at him sweetly. “Am I embarrassing you? If I am, you are free to leave.”
Moss Forest Orchid (Silver and Orchids Book 1) Page 1