Chapter Six #2
“It would be fair to feel at least a little daunted. They are gods who have roamed this world for thousands of years.”
“Be that as it may, I will not be cowed.”
“Because you’re fearless, little nymph.” He nuzzled her temple. “I need to speak with Ash. I’ll be back.”
As Aleksi jogged away to catch up with Ash, the wind kicked up suddenly, tugging at Naia’s clothing and teasing through Einar’s hair. Up ahead, Dianthe crooked a finger at Einar, echoing the breezy summons.
He sighed and lifted Naia’s hand to his lips. “I suppose it would not be wise to ignore her.”
“Not wise at all,” Naia agreed. “Attend the Siren, as is your duty, Captain. I will be here.”
He hurried off, though reluctantly, and Naia walked on alone. She was thrilled to hear, perhaps for the first time, the twittering of birds overhead in the trees.
“I think I’ve been spoiled by the warm weather in the Witchwood.”
Startled, Naia looked over to see Inga walking beside her. The Witch had not greeted her, and Naia had neither seen nor heard the woman join her on the wide path. She was simply there, her heavy cloak swirling around her as she walked.
“You grow accustomed to the cold, I promise.” Though the sun shone brilliantly, and the day seemed warmer than any other Naia had experienced thus far on the island. The warmth felt almost expectant, as if someone had drawn in a breath and was about to say something unforgettable.
“I would have liked to have seen the giant reindeer. Perhaps later.” Inga studied Naia for a quiet moment before lowering her voice. “Aleksi says he’s better. You’ll tell me if that changes, won’t you? I worry about him. Mostly because he doesn’t like to worry the rest of us.”
It was another of those moments where answering—whether honestly or with misdirection—felt like betraying Aleksi’s confidence.
But Naia had been on the receiving end of Aleksi’s protective silence, and she knew how scary it could be.
So she understood why Inga, Aleksi’s closest friend save Ash, would want to know.
But Naia also understood why Aleksi would keep them in the dark. He felt everything so deeply. If he shared with his friends a vulnerability, anything that made them see him as weaker, he would know. And she wasn’t sure he could ignore it.
In a way, it seemed as though hiding his frailties was less about protecting himself from their judgment and more about protecting his friends’ well-being.
Though his friends did not realize it, they had forced his hand.
Because they would never, ever survive knowing that they had, in their own misguided attempts to shelter him, made him feel weak.
So Naia could not, in good conscience, answer Inga’s question. But she could say one thing without reservation. “I would give my life for him. Whether he wanted me to or not.”
Inga reached for Naia’s hand and squeezed it. “As would I.”
No hesitation. “In that case,” Naia managed, “I think we can contrive to keep him safe, even from himself. Even from us.”
“I think we can.” Inga did not release Naia’s hand. “I always thought you were sweet, you know. But now I see that you are also steel. That’s good.”
Before Naia could respond, Guildmaster Klement hurried toward them, almost stepping between her and Inga in his eagerness. “Lady Naia,” he panted. “May I speak with you?”
She hesitated, but Inga swept into a nod that was very close to a bow. “We will talk more on this matter.” Naia blinked, and then Inga was gone, as quickly as she had appeared.
Klement began to offer his arm to Naia, then awkwardly pulled it back in favor of walking beside her. “It is good to see you back at court, my lady. And to see Captain Einar’s ship safely returned to the harbor.”
It seemed strangely probing, like a query without the question. Naia smiled vaguely. “The Grand Duchess is most liberal with her hospitality, and I am thankful for it.”
“Oh yes, she seems to quite enjoy your company. A rare achievement, I must say. In all my time at her court, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her enjoy anyone’s company.”
“Perhaps she hasn’t, then.”
Klement laughed, despite the fact that Naia had been completely serious. “Perhaps not. We are often stuck in our odd ways, those of us from the Empire. But that isn’t why I wanted to speak to you.”
“Oh?”
“I know much of the crown-prince’s story, but I must say, yours is something of an enigma.
It seems you are quite close to Princess Sachielle.
” He peered down at her, looking for all the world as if he was examining a new book.
“I would love to hear the story of how you came to know her. And the rest of the High Court, of course.”
Naia had not spent much time conversing with Klement. Since discovering Einar’s true identity, Klement had focused much of his attention on learning everything he could about Rahvekya’s prince.
Now, pinned in place by Klement’s curiosity, Naia felt a cold chill slide up her spine.
It wasn’t danger, but disgust. There was a peculiar sort of ownership in Klement’s questions, lurking behind his obsequious politeness, as if he believed the answers already belonged to him.
Hell, half the time, he didn’t actually ask at all.
He simply told her what he wanted to know, and fully expected her to comply.
Naia did not like it.
It lent her voice a cool edge when she replied. “I met Sachi when she first traveled to Dragon’s Keep as Ash’s intended consort. The Siren—Dianthe—sent me along to oversee the journey upriver, from Siren’s Bay.”
“That is on the far eastern side of your Sheltered Lands, is it not? The bay on which the capital city sits?” He didn’t even wait for her to respond. “Is that where you grew up, then? In the court of the Siren?”
“I did not grow up anywhere. I walked out of the sea, just under a year ago.”
The scholar stared indulgently at her, as if expecting her to laugh uproariously at her joke. When she didn’t, his eyebrows shot up. “You . . . But how could you—?” A frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Naia revised her former thought. She did not like him, and it made her just petty enough to enjoy his astonishment. “I have never been human, Guildmaster. I was born of the Dream.”
“Well.” He studied her as if seeing her for the first time. “I will confess that, as a scholar and an educated man, it seems impossible. But I could hardly doubt your word. To imagine, you have lived but a year . . .”
The words did not come close to encompassing everything that Naia was, or all the memories she carried. She was made of joys and tragedies—of fishing victories and sailors’ laments, of tears and laughter—all carried in those bits of the Dream that were bound up in the sea.
She was far more than Klement imagined, but one could not explain a miracle to someone who did not believe. “It happens sometimes.”
“Fascinating. Perhaps you would allow me to interview you. At a more convenient time, of course.” He smiled with a baffling mix of pride and affected modesty. “You may have heard that I am starting my next great work of research. An authoritative history of the High Court.”
“You’re assuming, then, that such a work does not already exist.” Written by people who had witnessed that history, and would know—and understand—those events far better than Klement ever could.
He hesitated only a moment before nodding. “You are correct. The fact that I have never come across one in our Imperial libraries means little, what with the long-standing conflict between our two nations. Perhaps our new friendship with your High Court will give me access to new scholarly works.”
“An excellent first step to expanding your scholarship, Guildmaster.”
“Agreed, Lady Naia!” He beamed down at her. “On that note, I had hoped that I might beg you to intercede with Captain Einar on my behalf. It is a matter of some scholarly importance.”
What could he possibly feel free to ask of her? “I doubt it, but I am listening.”
He charged ahead, oblivious to her reticence. “I have the chance of a lifetime. To have a figure of legend like a member of the Queen’s Guard here, within reach? It would mean the world to me to have a chance to speak to Petya, but I am afraid Captain Einar has proven resistant.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Naia stopped and folded her hands behind her back as she faced Klement. “The captain’s crew means more to him than anything else. If he has seen fit to deny your request, then he has a reason. A good one.”
“Be that as it may—”
Naia’s fingertips began to tingle, and she flexed them to dispel the sensation.
“Naia! I’ve been looking for you.” Zanya appeared at her side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. She smiled at Klement, looking for all the world like Ulric baring his teeth. “I hope your friend will forgive me for stealing you away.”
The near-feral smile worked. Klement bowed quickly, already backing away. “Of course. Lady Zanya. Naia.”
He scurried away, and Zanya stared after him, her brow furrowed. “That’s the historian, isn’t it?”
The tingling had spread to Naia’s palms, and her hands had begun to tremble. She shook them. “Yes. Master Klement of the Scholar’s Guild.”
Zanya touched Naia’s arm, her voice low. “Are you all right? You looked as if you needed only a ready escape, but I will gladly drag him back by the scruff of the neck if he deserves a slap across the mouth.”
“No, it’s just . . .” Most of the people she’d met on the island viewed her as someone worthy of respect, whether out of fear or adulation.
Even Gwynira plainly considered Naia her equal, or close to it.
But Klement saw her merely as a curiosity—or, worse, as a tool, a lever through which to exert pressure on Einar.
And he did not even bother to hide the transactional nature of his regard beyond the tiniest efforts at superficial politeness.
“I don’t know how the Imperial guilds are run, but they don’t seem to spend their time teaching their scholars much in the way of manners. ”