Chapter 18 Toran
Toran
Toran rubbed at his eyes as he leaned against a dock post.
He’d told Nes to meet him at eight. If the watch in his pocket was right, it was two minutes to eight. He had yet to see a single freckle.
His eyelids felt heavy—a mix of exhaustion and keeping tears at bay.
After hearing Fell’s story, he’d spent most of the previous night finally reading Loriana’s journal.
He had to know if she’d suspected the Witch to be in the north, as Fell had.
He’d read well into the early hours of the morning, through the stinging in his eyes and the tear in his heart.
Just seeing her name signed at the bottom of the first entry had him roiling with loss again.
After reading the entries describing her hunt for the Witch, he’d had to set the journal down.
Loriana had by no means been a gentle soul.
She’d been fierce, with the strength and discipline of a warrior.
Nothing, not even an unplanned relationship with Orlonea’s Crown, would have deterred her from her goal.
But he regretted not knowing this part of her—that as much as he loved her, she’d still kept some of herself hidden from him.
With a sigh, Toran glanced down at himself, at the thick stitching along his cuffs, and realized he’d put his jacket on inside out. Shrugging out of the sleeves, he hurried to correct the mistake.
“You look like you could use some coffee.”
Pulling on the ends of his jacket, he looked up. Genna stood, immaculate in her uniform, her shoulder pressed against the opposite side of the dock post. He wiped at his eyes again before straightening.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. “But why here?”
The docks were busiest in the mornings, with lower-ranking guards flitting about collecting and refilling supplies for the naval ships anchored just offshore. Genna glanced around as if only noticing the packed planks now.
“The docks are close to the ocean,” she said. Her expression darkened even as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, bathing the docks in light. “Captain Fell won’t come here. He doesn’t think the Witch would dare walk so close to the ocean.”
Toran stared out at the calm water before turning back to face the bustling city behind them.
It was as if he were standing on the seam of two worlds.
“Fell might be a despicable human being, but he’s not dumb.
He makes a good point. If there was only one thing in the world that could kill me, I’d stay as far away from it as possible. ”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t the Witch, or I’d kill you right now.”
Nes stepped into view at the same time a strong gust of wind slammed the dock. The wind rushed her, making the skirt she wore dance around her bare legs and her hair whip and twirl. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, even her ankles had freckles.
Toran had never seen her in a skirt. Never seen skin beyond that of her hands and the freckles stitching her cheekbones.
She looked as wild and beautiful as the wind itself.
He was struck with the desire to run his fingers through her hair, to let them get caught in the tangles, to let her ensnare him.
“Why are we here?” Nes growled as she pushed hair out of her face.
Toran raised a hand to help her but stopped himself when Nes’s glare landed on him. He moved his hand to gesture between the two women instead. “Nes, Genna. Genna, Nes.”
“Nice to meet you,” Genna said.
Nes clutched her whipping hair and said, “It’d be nicer if we weren’t so exposed.”
“This seemed like the safest spot to meet,” Genna said. “Toran told me you wanted to discuss Captain Fell.”
Toran stepped closer, tightening the circle the three of them had created. “Before we get into that, Genna, how many languages does your father know?”
Genna’s eyes widened a bit at the question before she scoffed. Her hand moved to her hip. “Not as many as I do. I know eleven.”
“And how many written?”
“Are you ears as bad as Captain Ludwig’s?”
He didn’t know who Ludwig was.
“Eleven,” she repeated.
He pulled out the paper with the symbol on it. He’d scoured the castle library for information, but the symbol wasn’t a letter in the Orlon alphabet. Or any of the continent languages. Not Orlon, not Aeok, not Luses, not Kehrnan, not Martish. Nor any of the known nomad languages.
He held the paper out to her. “Ever seen anything like this?”
Genna leaned closer, eyes glued to the paper even when a gust of wind off the ocean tried to yank it from his hand. “Once.” She reached a finger out, tracing the lines on the page. “Where did you find this?”
Nes, hands still wrapped tight around her hair, stepped closer, too, her elbow brushing his arm. “Do you know what it means?”
Genna tapped the page. “I think this is ‘give.’ Or maybe ‘take.’ ”
“You’re not sure?”
“No,” she said. “Do you want to see more?”
Toran folded the page back up. “More?”
Genna nodded. Her gaze slipped around his shoulders, searching the faces of the people on the docks. “Yes. Similar symbols.”
“Where?”
“I’ll show you,” Genna said. “But we need to go now, before the tide rises.”
Nes let go of her hair, folding her arms over her chest in a guarded way. “Why does seeing these symbols rely on the tide?”
“You’ll see,” Genna said. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
A second later, Genna vanished among the guards, fishermen, and traders.
Nes stood silent beside Toran, but to him, she felt like the loudest one on the docks. He couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from drifting to her. To the way the wind ripped through her twisting hair. To the curve of her hips, the flow of her skirt clinging to them like frosting on a cake.
Where Loriana had been all thin lines, an elegant array of connecting points, Nes was rounded. The only sharp points to be found were those whipping off her tongue. The two were almost nothing alike. And yet, part of him felt drawn to Nes in a way he hadn’t felt since Loriana.
His fiancée had captivated him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her—and that eagerness hadn’t faded in the slightest the more he learned about her. He hadn’t thought it possible to find such desire again. But with every second he spent with Nes, his heart ticked a bit stronger.
“What?” Nes asked.
He raised a brow. “What?”
She scowled, her nose crinkling. “You’re staring.”
Her words sent his eyes skittering away. He glanced back at her and said the first thing that came to mind. “Your hair’s a disaster.”
“I thought we’d be in the city proper today,” she grumbled, pushing it from her face. “Not standing here on the edge of the world.”
He lifted his head to stare out at the expanse of sea, stretching as far as he could see. “There’s still plenty of world out there.”
“No, there isn’t.” Nes turned her back to the water.
Beyond the docks, a boat passed by, its wake creating a wave large enough to curl in on itself and spit foam. He couldn’t imagine how big the waves that took down Loriana’s ship could have been in comparison.
His hands shook. He shoved them in his pockets, but the small space only made them shake harder. They needed movement. He needed a distraction.
Another strong gust, cool and fresh, hit them. Beside him, Nes growled. She damn near smacked herself in the face in her haste to push her hair away. He chuckled.
“Shut it right now,” she hissed, “or I swear to the Goddess you’ll find every single one of your uniforms coated in seagull poo tomorrow.”
He bit his lip to keep from laughing again. Her threat sounded a lot like something Kohen would do. Goddess help him if Kohen and Nes ever met.
“Here,” he said.
He withdrew his quaking hands from his pockets and ran them over her head, smoothing her hair back into his grip.
She stilled. As his fingers raked through her strands, his shaking eased until it faded entirely.
He was steady again when he separated her hair into three parts and began folding one over the other.
With his free hand, he pulled a red handkerchief from his uniform and rolled it against his thigh until it was coiled tight.
Then he wrapped the silk around her gathered hair, tying a knot to hold it in place.
With the knot doubled and secure, he knew he should step away.
He didn’t. He wanted…he wanted to keep close.
Her presence warmed him, the smell of her drifted through him—earthy, like the ground beneath fresh grass or the surge of rock up a mountainside.
He slid the pad of his thumb over the soft skin on the back of her neck, watched as the gentle touch raised goose bumps in its wake. He felt Nes suck in a breath.
“Ready?” Genna called from the end of a dock, waving them over.
They both jumped. Toran shoved his hands as far down into his pockets as they could possibly go. As if the fabric could hide his actions or the way his heart raced in his chest.
He nodded to Genna. “Coming!”
He sensed Nes following as he headed for Genna, but he didn’t look back at her.
He looked at the boats and ships lining the dock, at the wooden planks below his feet, at the ocean slapping the posts.
He looked anywhere but at the woman trailing him so closely he could still smell the earth clinging to her.
They approached Genna, Nes angling away from him, as if she, too, couldn’t stand to look at him. “What are we doing?” Nes asked. “I don’t see any symbols.”
Genna pushed up off the post she’d been leaning against. “That’s because they’re not here.”
“Then—”
Genna waved a hand at a small rowboat tied to the dock. “Hop in.”
Small was being generous. The thing was barely long enough to fit the three benches at the bow, center, and stern.
He hoped Genna didn’t plan on taking them far.
He crouched down, readying to climb into the back.
He’d have to sit there if they had any hope of staying level.
He was, by far, the largest of the three of them.
“No.”
He turned.