“You’re making her nervous,” Valeo said in the common tongue.
“Yes, please, can we go now?” I braved a smile again and stroked Valeo’s shoulder. Men liked that, right? Stroke, stroke.
Please take me home before I scream, I wanted to say.
Instead, he patted my lap. “My commander is unsure what to make of you. So, tell us, Hadara of Rimonil, why does Nihil like you so?”
I stared at Valeo like he’d suggested I undress in front of everyone. I began stammering something, anything, but nothing really came out. If I were them, I wouldn’t have thought Nihil spent a fraction of a moment on me.
The commander shook that big, blond head and resumed talking in his native tongue, still unaware that I could understand every word. I tried not to stare as he spoke. “It’s the Son of the Second Moon, praise that brilliant mind. He has something figured out that we don’t. And the Fey One must like what he’s heard.”
Valeo scowled and replied back in Fernai as well. “Commander, you’re not seeing. You can reprimand me tomorrow for this, but I’ll say it. You heard what happened at the altar. Nihil did witness that. We didn’t.”
“Meaning?”
The two men leaned so close, their bulging foreheads nearly touched.
“Commander, you think god’s gone soft? Or the Azwans? She’s got … something. I don’t know what.”
“Whatever it is, our Master will likely want it for himself.”
The commander leveled one of the more hateful stares I’d ever gotten and abruptly switched to the common tongue, likely so that I’d get both his spoken and any unspoken warnings. “You remember I warned you, Your Highness. This one’s trouble. Worse than your mother, even.”
“Leave my mother out of this.”
“You’re the one who talked of a fair trade. Ah well, you’re right.” The commander raised his cup in a sort of salute. “Nihil lift all doubts from our brave queen.”
Others at nearby tables overheard and raised their cups and mugs and entire bottles. To my vast relief, they all used the common tongue, so I didn’t have to figure out how to act ignorant any longer.
“To our brave queen,” came the cries. “Thorns and thistles!”
Bottles and mugs started raised at all the other tables, as well, answered by a basso and boisterous rendition of “Thorns and Thistles,” the song I’d heard on the wharf when their ship arrived.
Thorn and thistle and brave men bristle
Lest flesh be torn to shred;
Thistle and thorn, the roses adorn
Be careful where you tread.
Valeo stood and I hopped off his lap. He raised his cup and acknowledged their tipsy tribute. I know a forced smile when I saw one, but I didn’t feel sorry for him exactly. He probably couldn’t ever truly get away from his background, no matter how he tried. Valeo put an arm around me and spoke to the crowd in the common tongue.
“And to our un-doubtable hostess, the blessed Hadara of Rimonil.”
“To Lord Rimonil and his beautiful daughters!” one man shouted.
Another added, “Human or not, I’ll drink to that.”
Somehow I didn’t think that’s the kind of compliment my father would want to hear. Nor had I realized they liked their Sapphiran hosts enough to learn our names. Like Valeo, I was also developing a talent for smiling through gritted teeth. If this kept up, I’d grind them down to nubs before the night was out.
Another Feroxi rose and bobbed unsteadily before us. “Hey, guardsman your highness Valeo, tell us how you do it. Eh? Holy and lucky and endowed and all that in every which way, brow to foot, you are.”
Someone else added, “Especially where it counts.”
That brought roars of laughter and jokes from every direction. I turned to go, dreading where this seemed to be going. The shouting came from every direction while I covered my ears.
“Not human at all, that.”
“Not half-cocked, is he?”
“Guess blessed Hadara won’t ever be doubtful in that regard.”
“The royal family jewels is a quite the treasure, eh?”
More laughter and back-slapping and boorish grunts of approval followed their filthy talk.
I gripped Valeo’s sleeve so hard I thought I’d rip the satin off it. He silenced the crowd with a wave of an arm, his tone genuinely irritated. “Is nothing sacred to you lot? This woman is sanctified. She offered up her own soul to save our Master. And this is the language you use? Show more respect.”
The entire room rose unsteadily to their feet and the music stopped again. Cups and mugs waved in a toast. Valeo tried again. “To blessed Hadara.”
The shouts came back: “Blessed Hadara of Rimonil.”
“To House Rimonil.”
“So be it.”
They tossed back their drinks while I felt a blush creep the length of me, which no one could see under all my coverings.
He nodded. “Time to go.”
“Yes, I think your friends have spotted me by now.”
I pulled my wrap tighter around my hair and we were gone with a final wave to the crowd. Out in the street, I fumed and he whistled. His arm was around my shoulders, his step light and untroubled. He gazed up at the stars. “Not a bad night, after all.”
“That was disgusting.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was still angry when I brought you there.”
I sighed. “Alright. You were angry. Now I am, too.”
“So no more kisses?”
I flashed him a dirty look, which he couldn’t see by the dim torchlight of the alleyways. We slowed our pace.
“I have to sneak into my bedroom without waking anyone,” I said at last.
“Oh.” He sounded crestfallen.
I elbowed him. “It was a nice kiss, I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
“I don’t have any other kisses to compare it with.”
There was that smirk again. “I can fix that.”
This time, his lips tasted of that awful brew he’d been drinking, but I didn’t mind. We had a few luscious moments before the hailstorm known as my parents broke around me. I could sense it coming, both from the lateness of the night and what I knew of my parents’ sleeping habits.
That storm waited at the end of the row of pretty houses on our street, ready to lash me from every window and doorway. They were all lit up, every one, as though every torch and lantern we’d ever owned was in use. My house was one big, fat beacon.
Waiting.
For me.
19
I am a restless creature who flouts the prudent course, who seeks shadows instead of light, then would reverse myself. This I want and then that, to take risks and then retreat, to settle down and then wander, to weave and then rend.
Do not begrudge me this urge or say that I am fickle. You are made this way yourself, after me.
—from Verisimilitudes 1, The Book of Unease
I stopped for a long moment in front of my lit-up house, wondering if I should run off and hide out in the swamps forever and ever. That might be better than the tongue-lashing that awaited me. Valeo took a step sideways, away from me, as though we’d already been caught together.
“I’ve had bad luck with irate fathers,” he said. His voice echoed down the street, ruffling the blanketing calm of early morning.
“I’m in this by myself?”
He shrugged. “Guess so.”
“What about my alibi?”
“What’m I to say? Not to worry, my Lord Portreeve, we only broke into a warehouse together.”
“You kissed me!”
“Oh, and I kissed her, too.” Valeo cocked his head at me. “That’ll help, I’m sure.”
“Sarcasm. Nice.”
“Just returning the favor, Mistress What-Gek-I-don’t-see-a-Gek.”
I didn’t have time to retort before Babba stepped out into the entry courtyard, dressed in a simple longshirt and trousers, his arms crossed on his chest. He stared lightning
at me. I’d be hearing thunder, too, judging by that look. I swallowed. Hard.
Babba’s voice was quiet, like an earthquake is quiet before everything topples on you.
“Hadara.”
“Babba. I can explain. I promise.”
Valeo decided to chime in after all. “May I apologize, Lordship …”
“I believe you’ve done enough, guardsman.” Babba scowled. “I’ll be lodging a complaint with the Azwans in the morning. My daughter isn’t included in your wages.”
“Of course, sir.” Valeo backed up as if to go. “Good-moons, sir.”
That might’ve been that if Constable Natanno hadn’t also stepped out of our house and folded his arms across his gaudy yellow uniform like he had Babba’s same right to be angry. I gasped. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out Valeo’s features hardening into something much, much lower than contempt.
Babba nodded toward Natanno. “Thank you, Constable.”
“Your Lordship.” Natanno bent and retrieved his lantern from a bench near the gate. I recognized it only after he’d picked it up and wanted to kick myself. And him. I’d enjoy burning his courting note or sending it down the toilet hole in the bathhouse later.
Babba opened the gate for Natanno to exit, his eyes never leaving my face. Natanno slipped out, only to have Valeo grab his arm.
“Just a moment, Constable.”
“Off me, Feroxi, or you’ll be kissing the dirt floor of our jail next.” The warble in Natanno’s voice sounded less than convincing.
“And what law would you be upholding, exactly?” Valeo’s face set even harder. A constable had no authority over him, and I could see in their faces both men knew it.
Babba interrupted. “Pious guardian of Nihil’s person, I’m sure you won’t mind if the constable escorts you to your ship, in case any other young women should tempt you from the certain path along the way. I hope that when I speak to the Azwans tomorrow they’ll have your assurance I was being overcautious.”
That would’ve silenced the entire cantina of randy guards. I’d never heard such a mix of sarcasm, flattery, and threat all in one. It was sublime. Did being a lord bestow amazing powers of eloquence? I wished he’d become lord earlier. I could’ve threatened every girl who’d ever snubbed me with a speech from him. I’d have had the most blissful girlhood in city history.
Then I remembered I was due for a private audience with the same newly made aristocrat. I slipped through the gate, my head bowed, and waited for Babba in the courtyard. The gate clanged shut on the two younger men. The slow, unsure retreat of their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones.
“Babba, you cannot believe a word of what Natanno—”
“Inside.” Babba’s voice was hard as a drumbeat.
I hesitated long enough for the sound of scuffling to carry from outside our gate. Natanno yelped in pain, followed by the distinct slap of fist meeting flesh and another shout. I didn’t move so much as an eyelash—and wouldn’t have even if Babba hadn’t been holding a hand up for me to stay put. Babba went out the gate and disappeared down the street, leaving me alone in the courtyard, but not for long.
Mami poked her head through the doorway. “Where’s your father?”
“Down the street with the constable,” I said.
“Is that him I hear fighting?” She emerged in her nightdress, her face knit with worry. I shook my head.
The sounds of flesh-thumping ceased, followed by Babba’s voice, his words indistinct but his tone unmistakable. Some men yell when they’re angry; Babba lowers his voice to an undercurrent, slow and strong and impossible to fight. I would’ve liked to have heard what he was saying to the two men. (And to have been there to beam grateful rays of sunshine at Valeo. Imagining him pounding that constable into pebbles was going to get me through the rest of the night.)
The gate clanged shut behind Babba and the lightning stare returned. My smile vanished and horror, shame, guilt—pretty much every bad feeling I could name smashed into my head at once. I had to shake off feeling like a naughty eight-year-old. The Temple, the city, everyone considered me a fully grown woman. I had a right to come and go as I pleased.
Didn’t I?
Babba’s face dissolved into a fierce, twisted frown. “A Feroxi. And not just any Feroxi. That Feroxi. Have you forgotten Widow Reezen? Have you forgotten who raided our home?”
Mami cut him off. “Not here. Inside.”
I tugged my wraps around me and pushed open the door to our home. Amaniel peered from a doorway, then withdrew. I wanted to snap at her, tell her to go jump in a canal. But I’d be doing the same as she if our situations were reversed. I felt worse when I realized I didn’t see Bugsy or the ledger.
“I was trying to help the city, Babba,” I said.
“Quiet,” he said. “You’ll speak when I tell you.”
Babba clutched something in his hand he’d brought in from outdoors. I realized with a start it was a redbeam switch. I hadn’t had my bottom swatted since I was Rishi’s age. “You’ve no right to do that to me. I’m too old for that.”
To my amazement, Babba nodded. “Your mother gets the honors.”
Mami took the switch from him. “Bend over, Hadara.”
“But Mami—”
She erupted. “Just because your father is an important man now doesn’t mean you can run off as you please. I’ll not have people saying I raised my daughter to be some wild, untamable creature. Bend over.”
I took a huge breath and tried not to whine like a toddler. “I am sixteen and can—”
“You live in our house,” Mami said. “And while you do so—”
“Mami!” Was she really going to give me the “you’ll live by our rules” lecture? And then switch my bottom? Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered to return at all. The swamp as a permanent home was sounding better by the moment. Where was that stupid Gek with the ledger?
“Listen to your mother,” Babba said. “You have no idea what went through our heads with you missing.”
And rightly so, I thought. If they knew what I’d really been up to … but my mind was already circling back to poor Bugsy. Was she lost? She was missing, too. Hadn’t they noticed that? She couldn’t find her way back to the swamps; all she knew was our home. What if she couldn’t find her way back here through all those unfamiliar streets and canals? I pictured her flicking her tongue on the cobblestones, trying to find the scent of our home. That’s what I really deserved the switching for—for losing Bugsy.
Crack! The switch hit my bottom. I still had my dress and underclothes on. The blow barely registered. Mami obviously needed lessons from my old schoolteacher on how to do this properly. What’s more, Babba’d turned away and had his right hand tented over his eyes. Was I going to get the “this hurts me more than it hurts you” lecture, too?
This had to stop. I hadn’t planned on telling them about the real reason I’d snuck out and my brief stint as a burglar just yet—I hadn’t gotten that far in my planning. But it didn’t look like I could delay any longer.
“Look,” I said. I grabbed the switch from Mami’s hand. “Bugsy and I got the ledger from the Azwans. We saved the city.”
She tried to grab the switch back but I was taller. I held it over her head like I was taunting Rishi with a piece of candy.
Mami fumed. “How dare you. If you can behave like a child, you’ll get treated like one.”
This was turning into a festival of favorite scolds.
“Did you say ledger?” Babba had turned around and was giving me a quizzical look. Babba with his ear for business talk had heard me even though Mami had ignored me entirely. I wanted to hug him.
“It’s a record of all the stuff the soldiers seized. They won’t know whom to arrest without it.”
He took a few steps forward and opened his mouth, but Mami took over in her there’s-no-arguing-with-me voice. “Rimonil, we discussed this. She needs to learn—”
“Did you hear what she said, Lia? There’s so
me sort of record of the evidence. Where is it?”
“Bugsy has it.” I could tell from the looks they exchanged that this was going to need some explaining. “I broke into the warehouse, Babba. With Valeo. And Bugsy. We, I, got their ledger. I just owed Valeo a kiss. You know, for his help.”
Mami gave me a hard, squinty stare. “Where did you learn to lie like this? Not from me.”
“Babba, tell her.” I turned to enlist Babba’s help but his face was unreadable.
“I’ll be in our room, Lia.”
“Babba! You can’t—”
He wheeled around. “Hadara, shut up when we tell you. Truly. And next time, think on what you owe your family’s honor while you’re doling out kisses to strangers.”
Mami held out her hand for the switch and opened her mouth for what I was sure was a lengthy and loud lecture on our family’s honor and what people thought of us and me being an untamable beast. I’m not really sure, as she never got to give it.
A shout came from outside. It was Natanno again, loud and insistent, rattling our gate like his life depended on breaking it down.
“Fire, Lord Portreeve,” he shouted. “Fire on the wharf.”
Babba raced from the bedroom and was outside before Natanno had finished. Mami and I peered through a slat in the window covers. A red glow lit the horizon south of us, distinct from the sunrise that would be breaking soon to the east. Natanno called again: “A warehouse, m’lord. Next to the Customs House.”
A warehouse—my warehouse. I grabbed my wraps from a hook by the door and tossed them around me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mami said.
“To prove my innocence.”
“Innocence? You mean that? Then I’m coming, too.”
I savored the confused look on her face that said she didn’t know whether she believed me. She made me agree to wait while she dressed and gave a few quick instructions to a still-not-sleeping Amaniel, who gaped at us but didn’t object. I knew my sister would be furious she was once again missing out on the excitement, but I’d give anything to be the pious, good girl who never made trouble, just for a few moments, and just to see what it felt like. Would it feel safe? I liked the sound of that. Safe. Unworried. Content.
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