A Pirate’s Life for Tea (Tomes & Tea #2)

14. Kianthe

Chapter fourteen

Kianthe

B obbie must consider herself the unluckiest person alive, to keep missing Serina as she did. It was true misfortune.

Misfortune, and most certainly not Kianthe’s meddling influence.

The constable spent two days canvassing the docks, locating private piers, smashing into bars and disrupting parties while hunting for information on Serina’s stolen ship. Every single avenue turned into a dead-end. No one had seen the ship— because it never docked here , Kianthe thought in exasperation—and no one knew the pirate’s true identity. Eventually, Bobbie started using her real name, asking for anyone named Serina, and even that didn’t matter.

The one lead that might have turned into something happened by complete accident, while Bobbie was interrogating a server out on a winery’s terrace. It overlooked the harbor and had a very lovely view, one the constable was convinced would have highlighted Serina’s stolen ship.

And so, Bobbie was currently trying to bribe the server with a set of poorly crocheted gloves to reveal information the woman clearly didn’t have.

Kianthe, meanwhile, was more distracted exploring the wines. Bottle upon bottle of it, in all flavors. Reyna would be in heaven.

“I’ll get two of these,” she said, taking a wild guess. As someone who couldn’t drink alcohol, Kianthe had no idea which wine was best. “Wait, they’re not too sweet, are they? She has a very narrow tolerance for sweet.”

“Nah, this is my bestseller,” the bartender remarked lightly. “Even the Queendom folk love it. One of them was just here last night, and she bought six bottles.” He laughed robustly, smoothing his embroidered apron.

Kianthe grinned, checking to see that Bobbie was still outside. The server she was questioning looked confused, turning the purple gloves over in her hands. As if it might help, Bobbie produced a matching scarf to go with it, which made the woman’s eyes brighten.

Confident she wouldn’t be overheard, Kianthe drawled, “A Queendom woman, you say. Blonde hair, light brown eyes? As gorgeous as the rising sun over the Nacean River?”

The bartender leaned across the table, lips quirking upwards. “Lemme guess. You’re the fiancée. She had plenty to say about you. Even tried to convince me you’re the Mage of Ages.”

“Well. I don’t like to brag.” Kianthe tossed her short hair.

“She said you love to brag. Also said you could fix my squeaky floorboards just by persuading the wood to be quiet.” Now the bartender raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Kianthe slumped over the bar. “Leave it to Reyna to give me chores even when she’s not around.” With a magical touch, she found the floorboards in question—wood that used to sing every time the wind whistled through its branches, and now was very annoyed that it didn’t have the privilege anymore—and reasoned with it until it agreed that it could squeak all it wanted when customers weren’t present.

All of this happened without the bartender realizing it, but she stepped over to demonstrate the magic, and he whistled. “I’ll be damned. Glad I comped her a few extra drinks last night.” Now he looked at the terrace. “That your constable friend? Serrie’s lover?”

“Lover?” Kianthe tapped her chin. “Don’t tell Bobbie that—she thinks they hate each other. Do you know if Serina already left? I’m supposed to keep us close, but not that close, and it’s moderately exhausting.”

The bartender was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Between you and me, I helped her get a crew together. They left pretty quick. I bet they’re halfway up the Nacean by now.”

“Great,” Kianthe muttered, and pushed away from the table. “Hey, do you have a supply line to Tawney, out east?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say I do. You need one?”

“My fiancée would love nothing more than regular shipments of your wine.”

Now the bartender grinned. “Shipping wine to the Arcandor. I’ll get something established, but only if I can slap that on my storefront.”

“’I’m Arcandor Kianthe, and this is my favorite winery on the Nacean,’” Kianthe drawled sarcastically. “You know mages don’t drink, right?”

“I do. Some don’t.” The bartender winked.

Kianthe snorted and left, tugging a defeated Bobbie away from the very pleased server. “Hate to tell you this, Constable, but they’ve already sailed north. Bartender just told me he heard that she’d gathered a crew. I doubt Serina would stick around now that she has the bodies to sail that ship.”

“What?” Bobbie spun towards the river. It was, of course, empty. She groaned, digging her hands into her corkscrew coils. “I can’t believe this. A crew? What kind of person chooses to sail with a pirate?”

“Hey. My fiancée resembles that remark.”

The constable leveled an exasperated stare her way. “Right. Thanks for that.” She swept past Kianthe, trudging out of the tavern. Kianthe waved at the bartender and followed, catching up with her down the street. “I have to get my horse—”

“Oh, for the Stone of Seeing’s almighty sake.” Kianthe grabbed her arm, spinning her back around. “You are running that poor horse to death, and you will never catch up to her. Come on, Bobbie, how long have you been following her trail? She’s one step ahead of you and without similar transportation, you’re going to keep missing her.”

Bobbie looked close to tears. She’d slept for a decent amount of time, but she was still up far earlier than Kianthe would have been, and the nights at the inn clearly hadn’t been relaxing—if her new supply of crocheted projects were any indication.

This entire search was wringing Bobbie raw, and it showed.

“Then… we need a boat. You’re a mage. You can guide it upriver.”

Kianthe’s expression hardened. “I’m not sailing after Serina until we talk. Reyna is keeping Serina out of your grasp because you’re insistent on destroying the life of your oldest friend.”

“She’s a criminal .”

“That’s negotiable. And she’s also your friend,” Kianthe snapped. “If you hand her to Arlon, you are guaranteeing her a lifetime trapped in a cell—and that’s if she’s fortunate. Is turning her in really the only way to solve this problem? Why not help her disappear instead? Reyna told me you wanted to make positive change from inside Arlon’s organization; this is a damn good place to start.”

Bobbie withdrew at the reminder. Her voice was thick. “She won’t disappear. She has something to prove now.”

“Right. And you can’t relate to that at all.”

The constable dug her hands in her hair, spun on her heel, then spun back.

“I can’t—risk this job. When I wear this uniform, it’s a reminder that I get to choose how to deliver bad news. No little girls will be crying because of me.” Bobbie clenched her eyes shut. “You saw the constables flanking Diarn Arlon at his ball. They’re his closest advisors. If I got that position, I could make real, positive change.”

Kianthe crossed her arms. “Bobbie, I’ve heard enough policy talk to know that rulers will always act in their own best interest. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise. If that’s your goal, Serina’s approach isn’t the worst; Arlon will respond if she strong-arms him into a deal.”

“I don’t agree with that method.” Bobbie hung her head. “But… you might be right about her punishment. Diarn Arlon would have settled for a fine at the beginning of the season, but now—”

“Now, he’s out for blood. You’re riding up and down this river trying to keep her safe, but your presence is causing her to get reckless. Worse, if you can track her, Arlon can track you. Did you think of that?”

Maybe it was all the time spent with Reyna, all that time fearing the queen’s spies, but Kianthe was under no illusions that Arlon wouldn’t assign constables to watch Bobbie. Now the idea seemed to sit like a hot coal in the constable’s stomach, because she physically hunched over.

“He’s not following me.” But she didn’t sound so certain.

“Bobbie, you’re working yourself to the bone without understanding why.” Kianthe pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sometimes, you have to step back from your job and ask yourself what’s right. The person paying your coin isn’t always the good guy.”

It felt like a repeat conversation, something she’d discussed with Reyna over and over, something she thought might break them up until That Night —the fateful moment Reyna fled everything to pursue the life she wanted, not what was determined for her. It led to so many glorious things.

Kianthe suddenly understood why Reyna insisted she follow the constable. How the Arcandor’s very presence and life experience could make people in this situation question everything.

But Bobbie wasn’t convinced. “I… I don’t know about that. But I’m a constable. I can’t leave Diarn Arlon’s service.”

“Why not? There are plenty of people who would employ you.” Serina, for one. She’d be gleeful to steal one of Arlon’s guards. “Tell me what happens if you don’t find Serina for him.”

“Then I’ve failed—”

“Failed at what? Your job?”

“Failed at life , okay?” Bobbie snapped. Tears shone in her eyes, and she spun away when she realized it. “You think it was easy, being raised by the star sheriff of Lathe? My mother earned that job when she was younger than me. I wanted to do something equally impressive, so I tried to follow in her footsteps—and I still wasn’t good enough. Then I trained to be one of Arlon’s constables, and our neighbors threw a party to celebrate, and finally I was someone important.”

Kianthe scoffed. “Your job doesn’t make you important.”

Bobbie jerked like she’d been burned. She opened her mouth to protest, but now the air crackled with heat, and Kianthe raised a hand to silence her.

“No, hang on. You’re worth more than your work ethic. The only person who can decide if you’re failing is you , Bobbie . ” Kianthe rolled her eyes. “Do you think anyone thought I was impressive before the Stone blessed me with its magic? I was just another kid training to be a mage. I could boil water at best.”

“I’m sure you could do more than that,” Bobbie muttered.

Kianthe laughed, and laughed again at the assumption. “I was last in every class. They tried to push me towards alchemy. ‘A supplement for natural talent,’ they told me, as if that didn’t drive a stake in my soul. I left my family to make them proud, and I failed every time I tried.”

Bobbie stayed silent.

Kianthe drew a breath, and the air around them cooled. “ I had to decide my worth. And the minute I got the chance, I left the Magicary behind. Fuck those guys.” She sighed, massaging her forehead. “Your opinion of yourself is the only one that matters. Your job doesn’t denote how successful you are, and you won’t suddenly become worthless if you quit.”

“I’m not even sure what else I’d do.” Bobbie looked lost.

“That’s half the adventure, isn’t it?”

For a long moment, the only sound was the footsteps of passersby, the occasional shout from the docks. In the distance, someone struck up a smooth violin, likely to accompany one of the fancier taverns.

Kianthe smiled.

And after a moment, Bobbie sighed. “Let’s say I’m considering this. What’s our next step?”

“You were right; we need a boat. Because I’m not hurting Reyna’s precious horse thundering up the riverbank again.” Kianthe held Bobbie’s gaze. “We’ll leave them stabled here for a bit, and catch up with Serina. We’ll talk . No arresting anyone. No fighting. And at the end of it, you can decide what you’d like to do. Fair?”

Long moments slipped past.

Bobbie massaged the back of her neck. “Fine.”

Well, it wasn’t a no. And at this point, Kianthe would take anything.

“Okay, follow me.” Kianthe led her out of the street, down several flights of stairs to the lantern-lit docks. They chatted about lighthearted things, leaving the heaviness of that conversation behind.

But Bobbie was thinking hard about it, Kianthe could tell. Which was probably good, because they’d only barely approached two constables at the dock when things went sideways.

Again.

“You said you’re Bobbie?” the shorter constable huffed. “We got a notice about you this morning.”

Bobbie stiffened.

“What kind of notice?” Kianthe crossed her arms, challenging them.

They barely paid her mind. The taller one plucked a thick sheet of parchment out of her pocket, unfurling it with a flourish. She read, monotone: “’By order of Diarn Arlon, in punishment for allowing the capture and use of the diarn’s private ship, The Prestige , Barylea of Lathe’s position as constable of the Nacean River has been revoked. This termination is effective immediately. Employment and privileges will cease. Bobbie of Lathe’s badge and sword must be returned. If any struggle ensues, constables enforcing this order may use deadly force.’”

“By the Stone of Seeing and every Star in the sky.” Kianthe snapped. “ Deadly force? Is that necessary?”

The constable curled the paper back into a strict roll and tucked it away. “Well, that depends on her, doesn’t it?”

The shorter constable held out his hand. “Nothing personal, Bobbie. My grandmother still loves the scarf you made her, but… well. It’s business.”

Bobbie stood still, jaw clenched tight. Her entire body was trembling—with anguish or pent-up rage, it was hard to say—but she unclipped the silver badge from her chest, mutely handing it over.

“Bobbie,” Kianthe said, feeling helpless. “You can’t—”

“You’re the one who told me I could do anything,” Bobbie said, sounding lifeless. If a corpse could talk, that would be its tone. She moved stoically, untying her sword’s leather strap with stiff fingers. “Apparently, I’m getting my chance earlier than expected.”

“I didn’t mean now . Stone damn it all.” Kianthe stepped in between them before Bobbie could offer her sword. “No. Don’t you dare. You can’t have her sword.”

The taller constable scowled. “We have to collect—”

“You don’t have to do shit,” the mage growled, and bright flame ignited from her hands. The constables looked shocked, stepping back, which pleased Kianthe immensely. Her expression was scathing. “This woman served alongside you. She crocheted your grandma a scarf. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Enough,” Bobbie said, her voice trembling. She carefully stepped around Kianthe’s flaming hands, offering her sword to the constables. “I accept my termination. Please tell Diarn Arlon that I’m—”

“Don’t say it,” Kianthe interrupted.

“I’m sorry.” Bobbie glanced at her, then looked away as quickly. Without a word, she turned and walked towards the edge of the deck.

The constable holding Bobbie’s things swallowed. “Mind putting those out?”

“Don’t test me.” Kianthe shook the flames off her hands, then stepped threateningly into the constables’ space. “Since you’re so good at following orders, let me issue one. I am the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages. By Magicary agreement with the Sheparan Council, of which Diarn Arlon is a member, mages are allowed to temporarily claim Sheparan property for official Magicary business. Consider this my notice: we’re taking your Stone-damned boat.”

The piece bobbed behind the two of them, clearly intended as a river patrol for a pair of constables. It had a single mast and sail, but it would do for their purposes.

The taller constable opened her mouth to protest, but the shorter one elbowed her. He looked sheepish. “I am familiar with that law, Arcandor. We apologize for the… ah, unpleasantness.” He stepped aside, allowing access to the boat.

“Yeah, well. She didn’t have to enjoy it so much,” Kianthe said scornfully. “Bobbie. Come on.” And she stomped past the two of them.

There was a moment where Kianthe really didn’t think she’d follow. A moment where the former constable just stood, expressionless, and then glanced over her shoulder at the town. As if she might just spend the night drinking her sorrow away.

Kianthe couldn’t even blame her.

But duty won out again—an unspoken debt to Kianthe for defending her, or maybe the never-ending desire to find Serina—and Bobbie glumly followed the mage onto the boat and took a seat. Good. Kianthe waited to see if the other constables would say anything else, but they kept their mouths shut.

With little else to do, Kianthe magicked the water to push their boat out of the docks.