Chapter 18 #2
My wind-scoured face flushed uncomfortably, but within I felt an odd pull to comply.
There was no doubt the Cormorant was charming to a fault, but I remembered, too, his warm manner in the culverhouse.
And before that, how he’d saved me in the snug: admonishing his sister, redirecting her attention.
“I can do my best,” I said breathlessly, and Avrix clapped me gratefully on the shoulder.
Shifting, staring at the other team’s boat, I began to weave my own new pleas…
We’d rounded the rocks of the southeast headland, the distant mainland a shadow to our left, and now the shingle beach reappeared and the harbor beyond it, pestered by waves.
Tigo, Rhianne, and the others were there, hands cupped around their mouths, egging us onward.
The current propelling Morgen’s boat had turned scrappy.
Distracted by sabotaging us, Ebba had neglected it, and its interest was clearly waning, its strength weakening.
All it took me was a few choice entreaties, and their boat lagged behind, thudding in the water.
At the same time, I gazed ahead of us and called to the waves that rolled past us to the beach.
One rose high, responding with zeal—and knocked right into our rivals, jolting their boat.
Morgen clung on. Mawre ducked. But Ebba, who’d been perched on the gunwale, tumbled overboard with a splash. Vercha nearly lost her footing, arms pinwheeling, grasping for Llir. And to my horror, in the course of steadying his sister, Llir staggered backward—and went in himself.
The harbor, only fifty yards off, rang with the clamor of cheers and protests. Avrix was laughing, deep from his belly, the others exchanging bellows of blame. “You started it!” Catua was screeching, as Vercha cursed us, murder in her eyes.
It took us all a moment to realize that while Ebba had surfaced, Llir was nowhere to be seen. I froze where I stood, my eyes darting. Catua ran to the side of our vessel and leaned over—which turned out to be a grave mistake.
Her brother, who’d swum underwater to our boat, exploded upward, one arm on the shallow gunwale, hooked her around the waist, and hauled her toward him.
“It wasn’t me!” she screamed, but she was laughing. Just before they bombed into the bubbling water, Llir’s eyes flashed up and caught mine knowingly.
Our vessel had crossed the finish line and now bobbed close enough to the harbor for Tigo to throw lines and draw us in.
Even so short a dash over the waves made my soles feel strange on solid ground.
Llir, Catua, and Ebba had struck out powerfully for the stone slipway and now strode up it with loping steps.
My ribs thudded painfully at what I’d done, at the sight of Llir, sodden hair dripping, shirtsleeves soaked and clinging to his arms. But when his moss-green gaze snagged on mine, I could only discern a strange, sharp appraisal.
As though he was almost as surprised as I was—as though he hadn’t thought me capable of it.
It reminded me of the look he gave me a few nights ago when I’d rescued Emment. Like he was seeing me anew.
A touch on my shoulder, a voice at my ear. I swivelled to face a grinning Avrix. “Excellent work,” he said admiringly. And then, perhaps because he sensed my reticence, “Nothing wrong with a cutthroat tactic or two. Trust me.”
With a wink, he fell in with his sister and the siblings, who were already trudging up the loose shingle, sparring genially about the result.
Rhianne caught my eye, and I moved to join her. I thought my fellow Orha might disapprove, and sure enough, Tigo, nearby, was tense-lipped. But as soon as he’d taken his usual place directly behind Llir, a gleam entered Rhianne’s gaze.
“That was brilliant,” she murmured with a twitch of her lips.
I half shrugged, but inside, my chest warmed pleasingly.
“Oh,” she continued, digging into her livery and tugging out a slip of parchment as we hiked up the path.
“I don’t suppose this means anything to you?
I found it up in the culverhouse this morning.
Can’t make head nor tail of it. I’ll give it to Miss Haney when we get back to the castle, but”—she squinted at it—“it’s very odd. ”
Skin icing over, I stared at the note.
md ss v back k
That was it. The letters were tiny, precise. But it took only a second for their meaning to register.
Market day. Sunset. The back of the Veil. K.
I swallowed, mouth dry, throat squeezing in panic.
“Er…” I held out a hand for the note, pretending to want to examine it more closely.
As Rhianne gave it up, she glanced at my face, and I wrestled to keep my features neutral.
“Actually,” I said, remembering with a jolt just where I’d seen such shorthand before—symbols and letters often caught my eye—“this looks like it might be from Madam Mora. You know, the ball dresses?” My pulse was clattering. “Maybe she needs an extra measurement.”
Rhianne’s confusion seemed to clear. “Right,” she said. “ ‘Back.’ That does make sense.”
“I can give this to Vercha later,” I said, fingertips white where I clutched the note.
The Sparkmouth seemed relieved. “Thanks. I’ve got so much to do in the kitchens…”
As we wound our way upward, my thoughts raced and darted. I’d done it—my contact was clearly satisfied—and next market day was the thirtieth of Tima. Just over a week to finish my tally and present the Cage with what they’d asked for.
But as the castle loomed through the trees above, my eye caught West Tower, where the siblings slept.
I still had three of their bedchambers to search. And the prospect of trespassing in Llir’s domain made an odd disquiet flitter behind my breastbone.