Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
We made yet another early start. According to Bastian, if we continued at our current pace, we’d make it to Seelie lands by sundown. And even better yet, an actual town. With an inn. And a proper bed.
The way I could’ve cried tears of happiness when he told me we’d be sleeping in an actual bed for the night. It’s very likely that the bed won’t be much better than the forest floor, but it’s the mental shift alone that will help me. The fact that I’m still nightmare-free only further excites me.
If someone had told me weeks ago that I would find a bed a luxury, I’d have laughed in their face. But after several nights having to sleep on the hard earth or in a freezing cave, even the lumpiest mattress in the world is a blessing.
We pushed hard through the morning, barely even stopping to have our midday meal of tough bread and dried meat. The more the sun began to drop from the sky, the more the forest around us began to shift.
It was gradual at first. The slight brightening of the leaves, the incremental increase in the temperature, the wintry pine scent mingling with the salty tang of the sea.
I peppered Bastian with questions about the town we were stopping in for the night, Pontera, but he was incredibly tightlipped about it, revealing nothing to me.
I could see the amusement sparkling in his eyes so I’m not entirely sure what to expect.
This could be the grungiest town I’ll have ever seen and he’s looking forward to my horror, or it could be the most incredible sight.
It’s hard to tell with him, which is mildly infuriating.
One of these days I’ll be able to read him like a book, I know it.
The growing scent of the sea makes me think that maybe it will be a quaint oceanside town, which would be incredible. I’ve never seen the ocean—or any large body of water really—in my life. I even told Bastian this and he still refused to enlighten me on anything about the town.
It was still a couple hours from sundown by the time we crossed the bridge that marked the entrance into Seelie.
From there, Bastian said it was only about an hour before we reached Pontera.
I was, of course, eagerly counting down the minutes from the moment we crossed the bridge until I could catch my first glimpse of the town.
And the second I did, I was glad he didn’t tell me what to expect.
I suspect nothing he would have said could have prepared me for it anyway.
“Oh my gods,” I breathe out, jaw dropped open as I pull myself from the horse.
“Close your mouth, you’re drooling,” Bastian’s mirth-filled voice says from beside me. When I flick my eyes in his direction, I can see the smirk on his face.
“This place can’t be real,” I say in awe.
It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.
I don’t even fully know how to describe what I’m looking at, if I were ever to recount this adventure to Tom.
From the vantage point we have on the top of a slight hill, I can see past the town to the sea, where the water stretches well into the horizon and beyond.
The town itself is broken apart by a network of canals.
There must be at least a dozen bridges I can see from here to move between the little islands of town.
The water is the brightest bluish green under the orange glow of the setting sun.
The buildings are all made of some sort of white and cream stones but there are pops of color all over with the window shutters, doors, even some that look to be covered in thick coats of bright paint.
And the bridges range from elaborate colored stones to simple white stone, and even a few that are basic wooden structures.
It’s as I’m admiring the most elaborate of bridges that I notice the small boats floating through the canal system.
“Wow.” It seems I can’t manage to say much more than that.
Bastian, following my line of sight, picks up on the objects of my focus.
“The boats serve several purposes of the town. In some cases, it’s faster to travel through the canals from one end of town to the other instead of traversing through the streets.
So some of those boats are people movers.
Others are moving goods, which helps to save merchants from carting goods over the cobbled roads.
And some of those boats are people’s homes. ”
“Homes?” I blurt out. He simply nods in reply, the edge of his lips kicking up in amusement at my shock. “You mean to tell me that some of the townsfolk live on boats? Why ever would they do that?”
He chuckles before answering. “In many cases, it’s because it’s more affordable than paying for a home on the land.
But also, the town experiences frequent flooding as the tides rise with the moon phases.
It’s much harder for your home to flood when it simply rises with the tide.
And some of the Fae just love the water enough to want to live on it. ”
“Don’t the Seelie Fae have control over water? Couldn’t they use their powers to drive off the flood waters?”
“They do, to an extent. But trying to control a force such as the sea and rivers is much more difficult than it may seem. It would require a tremendous amount of power, the likes of which no one has ever seen in my lifetime.”
“So, what do they do about the flooding then? Does it not damage the town?” My brows furrow with confusion.
I can see the thoughts running through his head as he weighs how much he wants to tell me.
I raise an eyebrow in a silent challenge like don’t you dare hide things from me.
Eventually he finds his words. “It does damage the town. I don’t know everything as I don’t have the inside glimpse of the Seelie court, but the way I understand it, many people are losing their homes and belongings to the floodwaters.
They continue to raise their concerns to the King and Queen for support, whether it be financial or building in more protections to the construction of the town.
The rumors I’ve heard are that the palace hasn't yet taken any sort of action to help the town.”
My head rears back. “But that can’t be true. The palace must be doing something. They wouldn’t just leave their own citizens to fend for themselves like that.” Would they?
Surely not. But the argument tastes bitter on my tongue. I don’t truly know the King and Queen. Or I suppose I should refer to them as my parents.
I don’t think I could ever leave a town to the whims of nature. Especially if they’re losing their whole lives because of it.
“Like I said,” Bastian says, voice carefully measured, “I’m not as informed on the happenings inside the palace. They could be helping, but all I know are the rumors I’ve heard on my own trips through the town over the years.”
“Right, yeah, of course,” I say, nodding stiffly.
“Shall we?” He asks with a tilt of his head towards the town.
Excitement races through me, washing away the unease. “Yes, please.”
We’re quick to re-mount Puck and make our way down the hill.
The second we cross into town, the quiet of our travels the last few days falls away, replaced by the hustle and bustle of a typical village.
Just one that’s a bit more spread out because of the canals bisecting the place.
At this time of day it’s easy to pick up on those rushing home to their families for the evening meal.
Or gathering in taverns with friends and drinking away the stress of the day.
Now that we’re up close, I can see the yellowing lines at various points up the sides of the walls from where the floodwaters must have reached.
I didn’t notice it from our point on the hill, but some of the buildings closest to the canal edges are built up on a foundation with legs almost as if they’re sitting on a hilariously oversized table.
Bastian called them stilts when I pointed them out to him.
It’s rather innovative for them to lift the buildings in that way so the rising water flows underneath.
The inn we’re staying in for the evening is one of those buildings built up on stilts. There’s a stone staircase built into the side of the stilts leading up to what I assume is the front entrance. The bright sign above the door is once again written in the Fae language so I can’t make it out.
“The Deepwater Inn,” Bastian says, taking note of my narrowed eyes.
I huff a laugh. “Fitting name.”
Pushing through the front door, The Deepwater Inn looks much the same as the other inns and taverns we’ve stumbled into over the last week.
There’s a bar set up to one side while a mish mash of chairs and tables are scattered around the dining room.
Nothing matches one cohesive theme, and yet, somehow it works.
The dining room is relatively full, in fact it’s the fullest any of the taverns have been.
There’s the clinking of dishes, bursts of boisterous laughter, raised voices as a table debates the outcome of a card game.
I do my best not to stare at any of the patrons for too long.
I keep my eyes lowered as I let them scan across the room.
I know that I no longer appear human, but it still feels a bit like I’m crawling out of my skin standing in a room full of Fae.
It takes me too long to register the low, rumbling voice of Bastian as he speaks with the innkeeper for a room.
“Two rooms, please.”
Or rooms it seems.
I sidle up closer into his side and nudge him with my elbow. He jerks his head in my direction and raises an eyebrow in silent question.
“You do realize we’ve shared rooms and a bed before, right?” I raise my eyebrow, mirroring his own expression. “What’s the point in shelling out the extra coin for a second room when we’re both adults and can handle sharing a room for another night. Or is there something I’m missing here?”
His brows furrow as he thinks through my proposal. After a moment of staring at my face in what I assume is his way of sussing out the seriousness of my offer.
Eventually he gives a sharp nod and returns his attention to the innkeeper. “My mistake, one room should do.”
“We don’t have a room available with two beds,” the innkeeper replies. Bastian directs his attention to me with a challenge in his eyes. This is his last-ditch test to see if I actually meant what I said.
“That’s fine,” I respond without hesitation, and I swear I see something flash through Bastian’s eyes, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
After exchanging coins for the key, we find ourselves standing in the middle of a basic room, but it still has a warmth and coziness to it. There’s a plush rug in the center of the room and a bed that juts out from the center of the far wall.
“Are we going to send for food or should we go downstairs?” I ask as I drop the saddlebag in the far corner, my stomach loudly exclaiming its desire for sustenance.
“I actually have something better in mind,” Bastian answers with a smirk.