Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
EVIE
T he mist sizzled and crackled.
I fisted my palms as the grin in the fog morphed into a face.
A shadow stepped forward. Misty wisps clung to him, like Xamor himself didn’t want to let him pass into this world.
He was a tall, broad shadow, stout in the middle. He wore a red tailcoat which had seen too many summers, trimmed with fading gold and ripped at the hem. A mane of white hair that didn’t seem to have ever been combed cascaded down into a beard that ended in braids, beads, and rings that clinked as he drew close.
Boldly close.
I nudged Zorin into a trot and faced him, Leesa and Adara tucked safely behind us.
“Stop.” My blue tendrils billowed. “Or I’ll make you.”
The stranger let out one big bark of laughter, throwing his head back. “No need to sizzle me into a crisp, love. I come bearing a gift from your husband.”
I narrowed my eyes. Who was he? This man was old. He smiled too wide and warmly, and smelled of the sea.
“Still trying to charm people through your crooked teeth, I see,” Adara called from behind me. But she didn’t sound the least bit angry.
And that hiss of her weapons wasn’t menacing at all. She sheathed her daggers and walked forward without a care in the world.
Leesa and I exchanged a curious glance.
“As I live and breathe.” His toothy grin widened as he snapped his braces. “Xamor’s name, I never thought I’d see you again, Adara.”
To my surprise, Adara laughed. “I thought the ocean swallowed you, old man.”
The stranger smiled wider, revealing his teeth; one of them was golden and gleaming. “Tried to. Spit me right back out.”
“Not even the sea monsters want you,” she said.
“They’ve already had their fill.” He tapped his left foot against the coarse red dirt. A wooden leg, carved with shell and tentacle motifs, warped at the sole, as if he’d traveled up and down the length of Malhaven at least twice. “Kind of insulted they only took a nibble. My meat must’ve been tough.”
“Or sour from all that grog.”
“Adara, who is this?” I bit out. I didn’t like surprises–especially ones that snuck up on me and had seemed immaterial mere moments ago.
“Apologies, Your Highness, where are my manners?” The stranger bowed low, sticking his wooden leg out in an elegant movement so at odds with the rest of him. “I am The Postman, the safest courier in all of Malhaven. Need a jewel in the right hands without The Council or your enemies knowing about it? Want to send a letter to a secret lover? Maybe deliver some gold without your scribes’ knowledge? I am your man. For a fair price, of course.”
That raised more questions than answers.
“He’s a rotten bastard.” Adara turned to me. “But you can trust him. He saved my entire mercenary band off the coast of Marea Luminara.”
“My moral compass is dodgy.” The Postman rose and winked. “But at least I have one. And I always repay my debts.”
A quick nod passed between The Postman and Adara, brimming with secrets best left buried between them.
I flicked my wrists, the blue light vanishing. “Why did your dodgy compass bring you here?”
“Hey, hey!” He wagged his meaty finger at me, chidding. If I squinted hard enough, he almost reminded me of uncle Maksim when someone insulted his prized wine. “My orientation is top-notch. Talk like that is bad for business.”
“So is being imprisoned for trespassing.”
He chortled a laugh, but in that split-second, the jovial smile turned cunning, eyes shining with a bottomless intelligence. An old fox, this Postman.
“Dria would have been mighty proud that Vegheara blood is still stubborn.” As fast as his merry mask fell, it stitched itself back up like nothing had happened. “You could try imprisoning me, but I am not bound by physical barriers, Your Highness. You could kill me, I suppose. What’s the fashionable execution style nowadays? Stabbing, burning, drowning?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Adara said.
“But it’s so much fun.”
Adara clicked her tongue in warning.
“Very well, then.” The Postman cleared his throat and gingerly pulled out a piece of rolled parchment.
My heart stuttered.
It didn’t reek of death and the edges weren’t tinted blue with mold, but the scroll emanated menace, just like the Quorilith ones had done.
“Special delivery from The Dragon himself.” He approached, casting a cautious look Zorin’s way. The nazdran simply huffed The Postman’s way, ruffling his beard. He bowed his head and raised his arms, presenting the scroll like a grand gift. “He said he trusts you’ll know what to do with it.”
My fingers trembled as I reached for it.
The parchment was softer.
Sturdier.
Newer.
It reeked of the same preservation powder dusted over some of the ancient books in my library.
“The lady seems pleased.” The Postman patted his belly and gave a nod to Leesa and Adara. “See you in another five years. Try not to start a massacre in the meantime. At least not without me.”
“Death’s banging on your door, old man,” Adara said fondly as mist began to emanate from The Postman’s wooden leg. “Worry about that before getting into another fight.”
With my breath caught in the back of my throat, curiosity got the better of me. I gently unscrolled the parchment, fully expecting to be met by nothing but a blank page. I could ask Adara for one of her daggers and spill my blood for–
It wasn’t blank.
My bewildered gaze ran over all the letters and numbers.
I couldn’t read a lick of this ancient language, but–
My breathing seized as my eyes snagged on one symbol I did recognize.
The one which had been etched onto Owyn’s house.
Dread blared through me.
This wasn't possible.
Because that meant–
“The Dragon also wanted me to deliver a message, Blue Queen,” the Postman said just as the mist reached his beard, swallowing him whole. “ We have more enemies than we feared .”