by K. A. Linde
A shy smile crossed her face at the thought of their afternoon together. She closed the door and stretched out her tired feet. Her slippers were full of sand despite having taken them off several times already. She tossed them to the ground and padded into her bedroom to change out of the clothes she had been in all day.
After throwing her blue cape on the bed, she opened her wardrobe, bent down, and ran her hand against the side pocket of her large leather bag. The book’s indent was visible, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She stood, closed her wardrobe door, and nearly screamed as the shape of a figure materialized in the doorframe from out of nowhere. Her heart beat a thousand miles a minute.
“Shh,” Ahlvie said. He put a finger to his mouth.
“What are you doing in here? You scared me half to death.”
“Seem to be intact to me.”
“How did you even get in here?”
He shrugged. “I have my ways. Where have you been all day? Aren’t you on lockdown? I’ve been searching for you.”
“You’re not even supposed to be in the castle.”
He shrugged, unconcerned.
“I was granted leave to visit the library. I met Rhea there.”
“You’ve been there all afternoon?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.
“Never mind what I was doing. What are you doing in my bedchamber?” She set her stony gaze on him.
“Obviously looking for you,” he said.
“Yes, but what for?” She had other plans tonight, and she really would like to clean up before then.
“We have to go.”
“Go?” Cyrene asked. “Where? Why? I can’t leave the castle.”
“You’ll have to make another exception.”
“Ahlvie, what is this all about? There isn’t a way for me to leave. All the guards know who I am.”
“I can get you out, but we need to get moving,” he said. He was already walking out of her bedroom and toward the exit.
“Wait.” She rushed after him. “What about Maelia? Are we bringing her? Do I need my bag?”
“No. You won’t need that until later. I can’t bring both of you, so you’ll have to settle for me tonight. It’ll be fun.”
She stood her ground. “Where are we going, Ahlvie?”
“Do you have to know everything before you do it? Trust me when I say we need to go now. You didn’t last time, and we missed the ship. Now, you’re stuck in the castle. So, let’s go!”
“Ahlvie, someone out there is trying to kill me,” she reminded him.
He shook his head back and forth, as if debating whether this whole thing was a waste of his time. “I think I’ve found us another ship, but I need a woman’s finesse.”
“For what?”
“We’re going to a bar.”
“A bar?” she asked skeptically. “Right now?”
“No time like the present.”
“Ahlvie, I can’t go to a bar. I’m an Affiliate!”
“You won’t be wearing your pin.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You want a way out?” he asked. “Then, live a little. Stop caring about others expectations, and live by yours. Are we going or not?”
Cyrene couldn’t exactly tell him that she had somewhere else to be tonight. Maybe they wouldn’t even be out that late, and she could still see Edric.
“Fine. Lead the way.”
Ahlvie knew Krisana as if he were reading a floor plan. She thought her two weeks of wandering the halls had familiarized her with the castle, but he took turns, hallways, and stairwells she had never set foot on. She wished she knew how he was so good at this. Not to mention, he wasn’t making any sounds on the stone when he walked. And she hadn’t heard him enter her rooms either.
When they turned a corner, Cyrene stopped as she heard footsteps approach. Ahlvie grabbed her, and they ducked into a small alcove. They had made it nearly all the way across the castle, uninterrupted, and she wasn’t about to get caught now. She waited anxiously, trying to hold her breath. She was certain whoever was there could hear her heart beating wildly. The footsteps seemed to stop near them, and she listened to the voices for a second.
“We can’t go into the Affiliate quarters.”
“You wouldn’t do that for me?”
Cyrene released a small gasp, and Ahlvie nudged his elbow in her side. She would recognize the seductive tone of that voice anywhere. Prince Kael was trying to convince Jardana to take him back to the Affiliate bedchambers.
Ugh! Swine.
“The Queen would kill me if she found you in there with me.”
Cyrene bit her lip as hard as she could to keep from groaning at the sound of that incessantly annoying voice.
“Let me worry about Kaliana. You just worry about us.”
Jardana giggled.
Cyrene prayed to the Creator for them to pass by because she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could listen to.
“You’re talking about us like you don’t spend time with that woman,” she spat.
“Don’t start this again.”
“Well, if you didn’t make such a public display of it by walking her to the library this morning, I wouldn’t have to.”
Cyrene closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly. She couldn’t believe that Jardana was whining to Kael about her.
“Next time the King of Byern gives me a direct order, I’ll tell him you told me to refuse,” he said dryly.
“Fine,” she groaned. “The Affiliate quarters it is. I can’t stand this any longer.”
Cyrene actually agreed with her on one thing.
Their steps retreated down the hallway, and Cyrene blew out a breath of relief. Ahlvie rushed to the staircase and opened a wooden door at the bottom, and she followed him through it. He grabbed a lit torch from the wall. The dark stairwell beckoned them downward, and the stones grew colder and colder despite the summer temperatures.
When they reached the bottom, they hurried down an empty hallway. Even with the torch, she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. Ahlvie took a few random turns. She sure hoped he knew his way out because she didn’t think she could get them back. He hesitated at a three-way intersection and then surged forward down another impossibly long tunnel.
Time seemed to pass endlessly.
As she opened her mouth to ask if he had any idea where they were going, he said, “Aha!”
He clicked a lock and pushed open a heavy stone door. On the other side, the moon shone bright, high in the sky.
Cyrene glanced around at her surroundings. Krisana could be seen from anywhere in the city, but she was shocked by the distance. The tunnels didn’t run under the castle. They ran under the whole city!
The alleyway was dark, and she covered her nose to keep from gagging as the rank stench of sewage and manure pinched at her stomach. Wherever they were certainly wasn’t the nicest part of Albion, and she wondered what kind of bar they could be going to in this part of town. It would certainly be nothing like the one they had ventured into on the coast.
“Is this the place?” she asked him, trying to breathe through her mouth.
He glanced over at her and laughed. “Never been to the slums before?”
She arched an eyebrow.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Why are we here?” She grabbed his arm and kept him close.
“Just smile a lot and look dumb. They’ll think we’re together and cut me some slack.”
She clenched her hand tighter around his bicep. “What are you playing at?”
He roughly pushed her up against the dirty white stone wall and covered her mouth with his hand. Two guys passed by them and snickered at their position, but they kept walking.
He dropped his hand as soon as they were gone and leaned in close. “I’m not playing at anything.” His voice was hoarse. “At the inventor’s house, we all agreed that we were going to do this t
ogether. If you don’t approve of my methods, fine, but that doesn’t mean they’re not effective. All right?”
She glared at him. “Don’t ever touch me like that again. You’re right. I don’t approve of your methods, and I certainly don’t approve of you throwing me against a wall. But if this is how we get out of Albion, then let’s just get out of Albion.” She shoved his body away and gritted her teeth. “What do I need to do?”
“For one, your name is known all over the city, so you need to go by something else, something common. How do you feel about Haenah?”
Cyrene rolled her eyes. “Haenah de’Lorlah? Like the dance?”
“Whatever works for you. The person we’re about to meet might appear nice, but he has loaded dice behind every question. He doesn’t play fair, and he doesn’t answer fair.”
“We’re gambling, too?” she squeaked, wanting nothing more than to leave this place.
“Yes. He has a penchant for taken women. So, act like you belong to me, and we’ll get our answer.”
“Taken women?” she scoffed. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and she briefly glanced behind her, seeing if anyone else were around. She turned back to Ahlvie, angry that the environment was making her chase shadows but even angrier with him. “What exactly are we doing?”
“Trust me on this.” He was asking too much all at once.
He offered her his arm, and she rolled her eyes, wondering why on earth she would ever go along with this absurd plan.
“Come on, Haenah.”
She sighed and reluctantly placed her hand on his arm. She wondered what the hell she was getting herself into as Ahlvie walked them toward a ramshackle inn with a swinging sign that read, The Silver Trinket.
The Silver Trinket was the seediest establishment Cyrene had ever entered. It was beyond run-down and packed to the brim with men throwing dice or sitting around beaten-up wooden tables and cutting cards. Women wore dresses showing excessive bosoms and giggling at the men who grabbed them as they passed to bring their beer. Several men slept on the dimly lit bar in the back, and more cheered on a card game. Dilapidated stairs beckoned upward, and a hearth had an enormous cooking pot hanging over it. One of the largest of the serving women walked over to the pot, sloshed some nondescript stew into two bowls, and handed them to men sitting nearby. As she tried to walk away, a man pulled the woman into his lap and started laughing.
Cyrene was horrified. Who treats women this way?
Ahlvie tugged her closer, and she didn’t leave that position. She scratched the back of her neck and glanced around the room at all the dirty faces staring back at her. Or maybe none of them were staring at her. She didn’t know. It felt like it since she was the only clean person in the place.
Ahlvie walked to the bar and ordered a beer. But he held it in his hand, barely drinking any of it.
A few minutes later, when another man wasn’t looking, he switched it out with another patron at the bar. His demeanor had changed. He was stooping slightly, like he’d had too much to drink already, and he smiled up at her.
He nodded in the direction of the dice table, and Cyrene angled her body so that she could see.
“Who’s he?” she murmured.
“The owner.”
The man sitting at the table was surprisingly tall and thin with a trim beard and much cleaner clothing than the men surrounding him. He exuded confidence. She wondered what his importance was in their endeavor as Ahlvie supposedly finished another drink.
Moving closer to the tables, they watched a few rolls of the die. Cyrene didn’t know the particular game and stared at it in fascination, trying to determine the rules. When she glanced at Ahlvie, he had a completely different look about him. His eyes were glazed over, and he leaned on one side, but she could see that he was playing the game in his head and waiting for his turn.
When that moment came, he grabbed her hand, barreled forward into the crowd, and slapped down two silver trinkets. “I’m in an’ me pretty wife, too,” he said. He forced her into a seat right next to the man they were interested in and plopped down next to her.
“We don’ ’ave room fer two!” a guy yelled.
“Let them stay,” the man said. He matched Ahlvie’s two silver trinkets and glanced not so subtly at Cyrene. “What’s your name? This doesn’t look like your type of establishment.”
She smiled, not knowing what her role was supposed to be. “Haenah.”
She downcast her eyes and looked over at Ahlvie. He purposely didn’t pay attention to her.
“My husband likes to dice.”
“And you? Do you like to dice, Haenah?” The man placed the set in front of her.
“I’m no good,” she said.
Her gaze darted up and across the table to the darkened stairwell. She could have sworn that someone was standing there a second ago, but no one was there now.
“It’s all a matter of luck.”
“I’m not lucky either.”
“Maybe you will be tonight.” He encouraged her to pick up the dice. “I’m Jestre Farranay, owner of this establishment, and I believe you make your own luck.”
She swallowed, picked up the dice, and let them loose on the destroyed wooden table. They bounced and rolled a few times before lying still, revealing straight snake eyes. Her heart dropped. In every game she had ever played with dice, that meant bad luck. But before she even had a chance to frown, the men all around her whooped.
“An unbeatable throw.” Jestre pushed the pot in her direction. “Seems you’ve found your luck.”
Cyrene stared down at her winnings in surprise. Everyone else at the table threw in another silver trinket, and the game started all over again. Ahlvie lost the next hand, and Cyrene was pretty sure he had done it on purpose. The dice slid around the rest of the table. Some won, and some lost. After cheering, stomping, yelling, one punch to the face, one triumphant smile from Jestre as he collected from the pot, the dice were placed before her again.
She breathed in before collecting them. Cyrene pushed her hair off her neck and tried to keep the goose bumps from showing on her arms. This place gave her the creeps.
“Only one more for me,” she told them. “My husband can play the rest.”
She shook the die in the small cup and threw them out on the table. She held her breath as the first one revealed just one dot, then the next, and the one after that. Nearly all of them were showing ones again, and she stared in astonishment as the last one rolled further and further down the table. When the dice finally came to a stop, it stood on its side, stuck in between two wooden boards on the table with a one and a small square mark with a slash through it.
“Break even,” Jestre said when it didn’t move anymore. “A Braj and a one cancel each other out.”
Cyrene sighed. She just wanted to leave. She didn’t know what Ahlvie was getting at by bringing her here or what the game had to do with anything, but she was ready to leave—now.
“I’m suddenly not feeling well.” She placed her hand to her forehead and stood.
She really did feel warm to the touch. The room was too crowded, and the game was getting to her head.
“Nonsense,” Jestre said. “You can’t leave yet. You’re on a streak.”
“One hand is hardly a streak. Anyway, my husband is the gambler, not me,” she said with a small smile. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“The woman requires assistance.” Jestre passed the dice to Ahlvie and followed Cyrene away from the game.
Ahlvie hastily passed the dice along and trailed behind them. “A word, Mr. Farranay.” He drunkenly grabbed the man’s arm.
“I’ve no time.” Jestre glanced at him like he was the scum of the world. “Your wife needs tending to. Did you even notice her fever?”
Cyrene watched as they stared each other down. What did Ahlvie have up his sleeve? And why is he dealing with a man like this? He was more than intimidating and towered over them both, and Ahlvie wasn’t short.
“I
’ave a bit of a problem, and I thought we could work it out. Me, you, and me pretty wife.” He gestured to Cyrene and raised his eyebrows.
Jestre seemed to understand and nodded. “Follow me.”
They walked to the back of the bar and into a small room that could pass as an office. It was hardly big enough for the three of them with the desk in the room, but they squeezed in and shut the door. The walls were empty, only a few pieces of parchment were on the desk, and nothing more than a lock cabinet was in the corner.
“What can I help you with?” Jestre stood behind the desk and casually leaned against the back wall.
“We need a boat,” Ahlvie told him.
“And how could I help you with that? I am but a simple owner of The Silver Trinket.”
“A little birdie told me you have connections to a freighter leaving Albion.”
“And who is this little birdie?”
Ahlvie shrugged.
“Right then. Clearly, you’ve been misinformed. Will that be all? Your wife doesn’t look well.”
“We need to get on that boat, and we need you to put us on it,” Ahlvie continued, unaffected.
“Even if I had a boat, why would I help a drunkard like you? I’ve seen you in here before, wasting away your time in that mug. Was your wife at home the whole time? Did you think bringing her in tonight would garner you my sympathy?” he asked coldly.
Cyrene gulped. She wished Ahlvie had told her what his plan was. She hated walking into things unprepared.
“By the look on her face, I’d register she didn’t even know you’d been here.” Jestre had guessed correctly, but it was hardly what he thought.
“Haenah’s my concern, and I’m doing best I can by ’er. Albion has nothing left for us, and I need your ship to get out,” Ahlvie said, stumbling forward a step and resting his hand on the desk.
For show, Cyrene reached forward and steadied him.
Jestre stared down at Ahlvie. “You’re a disgrace. You can run from the booze, but it’ll find you.”
“I’ll dice you for the ride.”
Cyrene gasped. “No.”