26. Maren
26
Maren
K ye and I followed the carts into the meadow where farmers gathered to celebrate Zbierka Stratenych Du?í . There must have been a town or village nearby; the Riveans only seemed to grow in numbers. They lifted their heads as we neared. I might have expected the unwelcome we’d received from the people of Vranna, but perhaps the jovial nature of looming festivities prevailed through any doubt they harbored as they took us in.
Their expressions lit as they invited us into their midst, dressed head to toe in worn black clothing, their smiles a stark contrast to the faces of the dead painted over their skin. “Musí? si nama?ova? tvár!” they said to Kye, waving him to a table lined with white and black paint. “Aby ste mohli vstúpi? do Perpetska!”
Managing a grimacing smile, Kye slid from Sero’s saddle, handing his reins to me. A waifish woman stood behind the table, her fiery hair hanging in two long braids. She mashed coal powder in a pestle, adding water to make a paste, and pointed a bony finger between us. “Va?a milujúca ?ena to musí urobi?.”
Kye glanced at me from over his shoulder, reluctant humor dancing suddenly behind his eyes. He raised his hand, beckoning me with the twitch of his fingers. “Po? sem moja ?ena.”
I smiled as though I knew what he’d said, dismounting and leading the horses to join him. He handed me a bowl of white paint, the edges of the mixture flaky with dried chalk, then sat on an empty wooden stool.
Right. The wives do the face painting. The husbands sneak into Perpetuum. I offered him the reins, taking the bowl and giving the paintbrush a healthy swirl in the thick white sludge.
His Mihauna -damned legs were so long, I had to crowd his knees to reach his face. A circumstance I quickly regretted as he lazily spread his thighs and leaned back to allow me space.
“You shaved your beard,” I said when the woman behind the table walked away. I avoided his gaze, though I felt it heavy on mine.
His smile twitched as the cold paint landed on his cheek. “It was too long. Scratchy. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“What did you use? The pirate knife?”
“I sharpened it.”
I swiped bright white across his brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”
“No?” He grinned. “You didn’t realize I was so handsome?”
I shouldn’t flirt with him. Not after what I’d said two nights ago. After wondering how I’d manage to separate myself from marriage to a human, someone who threatened my very existence with their own. But I couldn’t help myself. He lured me in like a worm on a hook, even if I knew the danger of taking a bite.
“You think you’re handsome?”
The corner of his mouth curved impishly. “Not particularly. But I catch you staring often enough to make me wonder.”
Over the bowl, our eyes met, and heat raced in my veins. A flush threatened the tips of my cheeks as my mind flitted unwittingly to the image of his mouth kissing the inside of my thighs. I turned, reaching for the black paint, ignoring how his stupid golden eyes suddenly twinkled with mirth.
“Hold still,” I demanded, carving out his eye socket in black. The paint gleamed, wet and sticky.
Kye sighed. “If I remember, Riveans mix dyes into their charcoal face paint. This mask is going to be a bitch to wash off.”
I smirked. “A shame you’re giving your speech to the Aalton Priesthood later today. It would’ve been so much easier if you’d been in the middle of nowhere for the next week.” He watched the brush as I aimed it over his cheekbone, and I tilted my head in thought. “It’s a good thing most men in Rivea will have had their face painted. You’ll blend in easier.”
“Leihani, with the way you stand out, it hardly matters.”
Mihauna above, why did he have to say things like that? His words drifted in my ears, and something warm and satisfied curled inside my stomach, even as the moth wings returned, beating in my chest. I swiped the brush across his lips, adding a bone-white smile that stretched beyond the border of his mouth, ignoring the weight of his scorching eyes on mine.
“You’re blushing,” he said.
I set the bowl firmly onto the table. “I am not. Let’s go, lout. In and out, remember?”
He stalled a moment, a coy and determined smile playing at his lips, the shining paint quickly drying to dull matte. Then stood. Still fixed between his legs, he was suddenly so close his chest brushed mine.
Mother moon, as if the hat and his stupid thick lashes weren’t enough. Now I had to spend the next few days walking around with a giant man disguised to enter the realm of the dead. I tried not to admit the flare in my chest as I pretended to study my work, taking him in. He looked ready to challenge Darkness himself.
Kye was the first to break our gaze, motioning to the tables ahead. “After you.”
I turned to enter the festivities, the burn still vivid on my cheeks, and cursed his beautiful, irritatingly dumb face.
I’d just climbed into the saddle when the instinctive prod of hot eyes on my skin drove my gaze through the crowd. They landed on a man not fifty feet away, leaned against a hitching post, beard and hair black, teeth stained like tar as he gnawed open-mouthed on a raw carrot.
My heart leapt into my throat. “Kye.”
Still arranging his own riding gear and supplies, Kye’s gaze flew to mine at the tone in my voice. My face had drained of color, and he didn’t ask why.
His hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Where are they?”
“Just one. Kriska’s by the vegetable stand.”
Challenge flickered in Kye’s gaze. “Does he see you?”
“Yes,” I said, suddenly all the more nervous he’d immediately gone for his hilt.
Kye stole a glance at his sword and swore under his breath. He tugged Sero in closer, ignoring Kolibri’s wary chuffs. “Do they have horses?”
Across the paddock and a few stands down, Captain Henri Kriska the Third took another bite of his carrot and smiled at me.
“It’s just Kriska, alone. And no, not that I can see.”
“It’s not just Kriska. How fast can you ride?”
I gritted my teeth, my stomach already performing anxious flips at the sight of the pirate so close. Diara had taught me how to ride along the private castle grounds. She hadn’t taught me how to stay on a fleeing horse over an open road.
Kye swung into his saddle. “Stay right beside me.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, but Kye was already ahead of me, riding directly to Kriska.
The pirate watched us approach. He turned his head and spat, chunks of bright orange flying from his mouth, crossing his arms as he raised his brows. I recognized Demyan a few feet from him, the unnaturally tall and quiet pirate watching us like a statue under his own painted face.
The pirates took a step closer, reaching for their blades, but Kye plastered a friendly smile over his mouth, leaning out the side of his saddle. “Dobré ráno, Vládca Skorpió, Ne?akal som, ?e ?a tu uvidím!”
I had only a moment to watch Kriska’s expression fall into brief confusion before we passed. But a cacophony of voices struck the air behind me.
“ Vládca Skorpió?”
“ Vládca Skorpió je tu!”
Heads turned, eyes wide. The festival-goers rushed in the opposite direction, one woman releasing a squeal across the square. The words reached the edge of the trees before we did, and Kye nodded at two farmers who stood at the mouth of our trail, craning their necks and loudly discussing Vládca Skorpió between themselves.
I glanced behind us. “What is Vládca Skorpió?”
Kye shot me a mischievous smile. “The Rivean King’s nephew and heir.” He tugged his reins to the left, leading Sero into a thicket of ash wood. “Let's start on the trail and then cut through the forest in a way they can’t follow.” He darted a look at the mob now forming well behind us. “Can you navigate just as well on land as you do the sea?”
I shrugged. “Stars are stars. I can follow them anywhere.”