Chapter 20
Leila
Leila had read of beaches, of their majesty and expansiveness, but nothing could’ve prepared Her for the sight of Lake Atabi.
The grandeur sucked the air from Her lungs, leaving Her with the soft crashing of waves and the glistening surface spanning miles ahead.
She’d never seen so much water in one place—so much anything in one place. Still, a question pestered Her.
What the hell are we doing here?
“I don’t understand,” She said.
“Lake Atabi borders Thessen and Trogolia.” Raphael and the others had reached the hilltop, the group gazing as one at the waters below. “Our destination waits on the other side.”
“We take ship,” Enzo added.
His words nearly knocked Leila off center. Wasn’t a ship out of the question? Clearly Tobias felt the same, frustration alive in his tight jaw and knitted brow. “Brontes has soldiers at all borders,” he said. “You’re leading us to our deaths.”
“Not this border.” Unperturbed, Enzo pointed a thick finger at the lake. “This border is good.”
“How is that possible?” Leila said.
“Smugglers.”
Leila raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that supposed to provide clarity?”
“Oh, God.” Raphael took a step back, eyeing the expansive waters below. “This is Smugglers’ Cove.”
“What’s Smugglers’ Cove?” Hylas said.
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Raphael’s mouth curled into a grimace, disdain coloring his words. “One of the inlets mules and slavers use to transport contraband between realms.”
Leila recoiled. “Slavers?” The word sputtered from Her mouth like spew. “Thessen has never allowed such cruelty.”
“But the Outlands have, and Trogolia is their neighbor.” Raphael shrugged. “They must move product somehow.”
Leila stared out at the cove, mouth opening and closing like a fish as She tried to make sense of it all. “But if the borders are guarded . . . I mean, surely soldiers—”
“Are fallible and selfish,” Raphael said. “Smuggling is profitable, and the right price can convince plenty of soldiers to turn a blind eye.” His gaze panned back to the lake. “Enzo’s right. If this is Smugglers’ Cove, it’s our safest option.”
“It is Smugglers’ Cove,” Enzo maintained. “I know. I have been.”
“I’m sorry, am I missing something?” Tobias crossed his arms, his tone unusually abrasive. “Are we to just board a smuggling vessel, no questions asked?”
Enzo turned to Tobias, a grin splitting his face as he opened his arms wide. “You are smugglers.”
Leila faltered, though Her confusion was short-lived.
They were to hide in plain sight.
“We’re to pose as smugglers?” Hylas’s face fell, and he glanced between the others. “I don’t think I can. I’m not familiar with the culture, I . . . I haven’t the time to practice—”
“No, no. You are slave.” Enzo nodded at Leila. “She is slave. I am slave.”
“Why am I a slave?” Leila said.
“Slaves stay in hold. No sunlight, no glow.”
“Plus, I imagine Trogolians wouldn’t take kindly to female smugglers,” Raphael added.
Leila spun toward him. “Are you telling Me women are restricted from smuggling?” She planted Her hands on Her hips. “What kind of backward profession is this?”
“As much as I’d like to discuss inequality within the criminal community, does that mean we”—Raphael gestured toward Tobias and himself—“are the smugglers?”
“Yes,” Enzo said.
“Why?”
“I protect Savior and pretty man in hold.”
Tobias straightened, gripping the hilt of his sword. “I can protect them.”
Enzo let out a boisterous laugh. “You are no slave.” He took a step back, giving the group a clear view of his muscled frame. “This is body of hardworking slave.”
Hylas looked down at his slender form, then to Leila. “What about us?”
“You are slaves for fucking.”
Leila started. “Did you just say—?”
“I’m a fugitive,” Tobias cut in. “There are signs across the realm calling for my head.”
“But do they know your face?” Enzo said.
Tobias didn’t respond, setting his jaw. Enzo’s plan was a risk; Leila knew it as well as he did, but everything about their journey had been precarious. Safety was a dream She’d never known, and anyone She grew close to eventually bid it farewell.
Raphael came in close to Tobias, speaking in a placating tone. “We’ll be surrounded by Trogolians. What are the odds any of them witnessed the tournament?”
Tobias shook his head. “All it takes is one. One man recognizes me, and—”
“He suddenly gains a conscience?” Raphael said. “Risks exposing his life of crime to aid the ruler of a foreign land?”
“There’s a reward.”
“And a crucifix for any smuggler who crosses into the realm.”
Tobias went quiet, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Reddish swirls plumed from his flesh as they had for some time, ever since he’d spoken with Yucana. Leila raised Her chin, hoping to lend him Her strength. “If someone recognizes you, we’ll take care of it. We always have.”
Tobias’s eyes flitted to Yucana, then just as quickly darted away, and the shift in his demeanor made Leila’s stomach tighten. Had She done something wrong?
“Let’s go before night falls,” Tobias said. “We’ll plan our story along the way.”
Hylas and Enzo gathered their supplies for their short trek while Raphael wrangled their horses, preparing Yucana for her return to the brothel.
Despite his order, Tobias remained rooted at the hilltop’s edge staring at the lake far below.
His hands were balled into fists at his side, and when Leila pressed a gentle palm to his back, his muscles flexed beneath Her touch.
“You should probably say your goodbyes now.” She cocked Her head toward Yucana, who was still perched atop her steed, their black stallion and Enzo’s palomino waiting at her side. Tobias’s nostrils flared, and when he looked to his mother, red wisps tufted from his shoulders.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Leila asked.
Tobias softened, offering Her a weak half-smile. “Just tired, is all.”
That was a lie. His angry cloud followed him as he headed off to Yucana, and though Leila couldn’t hear their words, their sour expressions spoke for them.
Yucana clicked at her horse, guiding it down the path they had taken while ponying the other two steeds.
All the while Tobias stood in silence, gazing into the woods long after she’d disappeared.
Leila’s gut wound tighter. They’d barely spoken, hadn’t so much as touched one another, and Tobias’s colors only thickened upon her departure. What had happened between them?
The journey down the hillside was too short for Leila’s liking.
Enzo methodically removed his piercings while teaching Raphael and Tobias about the world of smuggling, listing far too many nuances, customs, and codes for anyone to remember, let alone two overworked novices.
They waited longer than was wise to bind Leila, Hylas, and Enzo with rope, securing their hands and ankles and linking them to a lead.
Tobias apologized incessantly while tying them together, wrapping Leila in shawls to cover Her pale flesh and wincing at the sight of Her bondage.
Leila feigned apathy, but Her insides twisted every time the rope scratched at Her wrists.
She’d felt imprisoned Her entire life, but to experience it physically, even if it was just an act, left Her tense and on guard.
Once their hike through the blackness continued, Her stomach shifted with dread.
Their disguise was imperative, yet She longed for Her blade tucked away in Raphael’s pack.
The brush rustled, and Tobias and Raphael staggered to a stop. Two men appeared in their path, one with a bald head and a dagger in each fist, the other with his sword drawn.
“Not another step closer,” the second man snarled.
Squaring his shoulders, Tobias slinked his hand down to the hilt of his sword.
“We’ve come to hear the siren’s song and steal a feather from her wings,” Raphael recited.
The two men went quiet, glancing at one another before peering at the traveling party through squinted eyes. When the bald man looked Leila’s way, a horrible chill crept down Her spine. His eyes lingered on Her for far too long, then flitted toward Tobias. “Lower your cowl.”
Tobias tightened his grip on his sword. “Lower your weapon—”
“He said, lower your cowl, you stupid fuck,” the second man barked, spittle flying from his rotted teeth. “Are you hard of hearing or just ugly?”
Tobias hesitated, his arms ropey and flexed. He dropped his hood, letting his cowl fall to his throat.
The silence that followed was loud, cutting through the woods with deadly intent. The bald man narrowed his eyes. “I don’t recognize either of you.”
Leila let out a quiet breath, loosening in Her restraints.
“We do business in the south of Ethyua,” Raphael said. “But border control is—”
“Tits up. We know.” The second man chuckled.
The bald man didn’t share his amusement, his gaze panning the group. “You.” He pointed a dagger at Enzo. “You look familiar.”
The man with the rotted smile scoffed. “He’s Kovahrian. They all look the same.” He spat on the ground. “Pasty cunts.”
Vulgarities flooded Leila’s mouth, but She resisted their pull. The bald man’s invasive gaze was yet again set Her way.
“That your lot?” he said.
Tobias pelted him in the chest with a coin purse. “This should cover our passage.”
“You missed the slave haul. Buyers want weapons this season.”
“Our stock will fetch a fair price regardless,” Raphael added.
Still, the man’s eyes were fixed on Leila, and the path they took across Her body left Her ill. His thin lips quirked into a smirk. He tossed the purse from hand to hand. “Could cut the price in half if we have a go with her first.”
Tobias went to unsheathe his weapon, but Raphael quickly cut in. “Our buyer specifically requested his product arrive pure.”
“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”
“You have your coin,” Tobias growled. “Accept or get out of our way.”
The man sheathed his daggers and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”