Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“To my dearest friend!” Kayce hollered with a tankard raised. “She conquered her fears and a few orcs, and looked absolutely wondrous doing it.”
In the small Norenthian tavern, several strangers rallied for the sake of cheering.
The crowd was full of faces leathered from working ship decks.
The exposed wooden beams along the ceiling echoed their voices, plates laden with cooked fish and vegetables.
Not to mention the fluffiest rolls in the kingdom.
It was a common haunt of Kayce and Lia’s, best for eavesdropping about various smugglings.
But they weren’t here for work. The bread had been on Lia’s list of demands upon returning home.
Lia flushed when Kayce’s gaze returned to hers, the amber like pools of honey unhindered with his dark hair partly tied back, the loose half settled on his shoulders. She didn’t remember this tavern being so hot, the air so difficult to breathe. “You weren’t even there to see it.”
“Actually, we watched from afar nearly the whole time,” Fee said, sniffing her cup. “And you did look pretty marvelous.”
“My point stands.” Kayce drank deeply before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I showed you more than half of those techniques, so of course it’s going to be equal parts effective and awe-inspiring.”
Terranth snorted beside Fee, surveying the packed tavern. “The only thing you inspire, Kacerion, is rebellion.”
Kayce’s teeth shown within a wide grin. “That, brother, is perhaps the kindest thing you’ve said to me.”
Lia chuckled, basking in the warmth. Facing off against the orc horde had been harrowing—an honest understatement.
She had a busted lip and bruising to show for it.
But knowing she hadn’t been alone, that her friends were there even when she couldn’t see them, gave Lia comfort.
And part of her, the one that was louder than her fears, saw the marks as badges of honor.
The gremlin and nightshriek had tried to take a piece of her, too.
But each scar was proof that she was more than she ever dreamed she could be.
Not to mention, her nails had never looked better.
Lia tried to catch Fee’s eye. She needed to question her about the troll, what he’d revealed—but the guardian avoided her gaze. Lia knew it wasn’t her split lip or how she smelled, having bathed immediately upon their return.
Kayce had even done her laundry, despite the new additions reeking of troll and orc and mud.
He’d found time to read the first of her papa’s books—and had several things to say about the depiction of his fight with the Widow’s Whale.
Her friends had also stuck true to their word, and looked through her papa’s trunks.
More photocopies of various texts referencing the Initiis were mixed in with old stories Lia had written.
It turned out that the Initiis could work in pieces, according to one theory.
Putting them together crafted a tool to begin a whole new story—a new realm. Or to end one.
It was more solid evidence than her papa’s cryptic note.
But once Lia had donned fresh clothes, Kayce had surprised her—their other friends waited with greasy tavern fare.
He knew her well. Couldn’t plot on an empty stomach, last night’s rabbit long forgotten.
She would tell them about the owls, too.
But the way that topic darkened the doorstep of her mind could hold out another hour or so.
The lightness within her now had been hard-won.
Surrounded by Norenthians, Lia’s smiles were relaxed, easy-coming as Fee and Terranth bickered.
He’d warmed up to her, but the two were still like oil and water.
It was nearly as fun to watch as Fee with the Smith.
But Lia noticed a curve to Fee’s lips, her smiles more frequent than they were for other people.
Lia hid her own grin in a sip from her tankard.
Only for Kayce’s eyes to slide toward her, a softness there as if he, too, noticed the shift.
It was an effort to swallow. Just like it was an effort not to notice how much of a pair they looked in the glass window beside them.
Both in navy-blue coats that draped to mid-thigh, belted at the waist with bronze.
Hers fit more like a small corset, his gloved hand fitting snugly in the dip of her waist as he escorted her into the packed tavern.
She couldn’t even find the words to reprimand him that she was perfectly capable of getting to Terranth’s table unescorted.
It was an effort then just to breathe. And it wasn’t the corseted belt’s fault.
Lia took another deep drink before smoothing the bronze-edged lapels of her coat. She needed a distraction. They were partway through a fourth round of sparkling honey-water—the sugar having made them all giddy—when Lia smacked the table. “We need a song!” she cried.
Several cheers rang out again.
Terranth groaned. “Since when do you make such a request?”
“Since I almost died several times,” Lia rebuked, raising her drink. “And I’m on a sugar kick.”
Kayce wagged his eyebrows before shouldering his way to the minstrel near the hearth.
A fiddle’s melody rang over the crowd. It was a lively jaunt that broke the tavern noise apart like children running through a market square on a summer evening.
Random trills and slides slipped up and down in pitch before settling into a melody.
Everyone knew the tune, singing along and stomping their feet.
Skies above, gray to the mast
Set sail o’er the mist, sailors hold fast!
Seas be a’callin’
Our women be hollerin’
“Be home ’fore the mist floods the shore!”
Laughing, Lia grabbed Fee’s hand. The guardian glared, her cheeks darkening to a purple flush, before relenting. The girls wound through the crowd to where several patrons danced in time with the beat.
“You loathe dancing,” Fee accused, raising her arm for Lia to slip under.
“You’re right.” Lia mimicked the movement, her coat flaring around her hips on a turn. “And you don’t?”
“Hardly. Sneaking into balls across Norenth is one of my favorite things to do. The drum circles of the Southern Seas are especially fun.” There was a steady rhythm to Fee’s movements, a gracefulness.
“I haven’t been south in years,” Lia lamented. “Perhaps a girls’ trip is in order.”
The music continued, Terranth’s voice ringing louder than anyone else’s.
Seas above, bob to and fro
Tis not fields we sow, but waters we ho!
Sails be a singin’
Our spirits be ringin’
“We’re home as the mist floods the shore!”
Fee smiled radiantly, adding a skip to the simple tavern dance. A shrewdness glinted in her eye. “Do you really want to dance?”
“Not particularly.”
Understanding narrowed Fee’s gaze. “Be brief.”
The melody built as they clasped hands, stepping lightly together and then apart.
“You sent me there on purpose,” Lia accused. There was no need to elaborate.
Fee did her the honor of not acting oblivious. “Everything can be used for a purpose.”
Her papa wanted Lia there. Thought far enough ahead to make sure Fee knew to send her when she needed it most. Wanted her to meet the troll. See the tears for what they truly were.
He really knew he was going to die.
It hollowed her. And reminded her. She needed to tell everyone everything.
“Who do you suspect knew? Knew and killed him for it?”
Fee’s face contorted. “I don’t know. Just that Julian was on edge, distancing himself from the others. Vilentia was the last sphere Julian was known to visit before his death. Sending you there under this pretense was the only thing I could think of without alarming people who didn’t need to know.”
It would make sense if he’d found proof of a traitor’s involvement with the Seekers.
“The barriers have been worsening for fifty years, at least. Why would the Order make it seem like a recent problem? Did they not realize what was happening?”
Fee lifted a shoulder, shifting the tight sleeves to her copper tunic. “It’s not that they’re inherently bad. They’re also not inherently good. They’re humans, trying to do the best with what they have. Caution is expected with newcomers. No one would show their full hand at the start of the game.”
Yet, a dark look came over her face at the statement.
“What?” Lia prompted, weaving through the crowd as the melody crescendoed, rhythmic patterns of a leather-skinned drum joining in. If this was a game, Lia didn’t want to lose. But she was a step closer, the pieces falling into place.
“Because some guardians chose Malum’s side, we’ve had to stick to our own spheres, or those deemed neutral to the Flameheart Order.
I learned about Vilentia through Julian.
It was odd when he mentioned it so suddenly.
” Fee’s smile was sad. “Even odder when he commented on how you would enjoy its climate. I figured this training was the only way to show you the truth.”
He was a conniving old man, Lia’s papa. Rivaled another elderly sage she’d read about. But there was no bitterness in her heart. The troll’s parting words about his injured friend—and her papa’s aid—rushed through Lia’s mind.
“I think they have a piece of the Initiis,” Lia speculated, not daring to raise her voice. “That’s how the Seekers are getting new creations to Earth. How ImaginX is getting the MemoryBank to work. Like the First Rift, it’s the only way without them getting hurt in the process.”
Besides her, that is.
The starlight dimmed in Fee’s eyes. It was all the confirmation Lia needed.
“And if they want Malum freed—” Fee looked over Lia’s shoulder, her expression shifting with the interruption. “It would seem someone wants to cut in.”
Lia turned to find Kayce staring down at her. Heat radiated from him, standing so close she could see the pink scar through his eyebrow. A flush crept over her cheeks.
“I need to make up for that terrible dance at the inaugural ball,” he said.
Even though the crowd sang along, Lia could have picked his voice out like it was the only sound in the tavern. “To be fair, I was under the weather,” she murmured.
His mouth quirked up at the corner. “Just a tad.”
Lia clasped his upturned hand. She didn’t want to squander this. She wanted her joy, this warmth that had been blossoming with him to quicken. But speaking with Fee, who had now disappeared back to their table, had sobered her.
He pulled her close, poised to dip her into the next turn around the tavern floor.
“Kayce,” she breathed, “there’s something I have to tell you—”
“Hate to cut in, but you won’t be getting this dance,” a cloaked figure said before lowering his hood. Jace winked an amber eye, wry amusement curling his lips. “Not with what I’ve got to tell you.”
A rumble built in Kayce’s throat, the sound curling around Lia’s midsection despite the disappointment in it.
She glared at Jace. What she had was far more important. But the way Kayce gripped the swell of her hip, the possessive timber in his exasperated growl, all thoughts of irritation at his eldest brother scattered like gulls from ship rigging.
“Why the cloak-and-dagger, brother?” Terranth asked on his approach, likely having tracked Jace from the moment he stepped into this establishment. “Sorry to say, the lion pommel on your sword is a dead giveaway.”
“Someone needs a lesson or two in stealth,” Lia agreed, mastering herself with an elbow in Kayce’s side. “Perhaps we can oblige him sometime.”
Finally releasing her, Kayce’s frown deepened. “He’ll have to pay a year’s supply of honey-water for this infraction.”
“Enough.” Authority echoed in Jace’s tone. “There’s not much time. Ma and Da are retiring to their chambers before the council dinner. It’s the best chance you’ll have to get those answers about Sir Julian.”