19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
A fter another three and a half long days of travel, it is a relief to see signs of civilization. Sparsely scattered farms and lonely cottages give way to towns, and finally, the city. In the weeks I’ve accompanied Asheros and his companions, I’ve been isolated from the liveliness of the city, trading it for the forest’s quiet.
Adjusting our course to hug the river, Asheros slows our horse’s pace to a trot. Riding behind him this time, instead of sitting in front, I peer over his shoulder to see what lies ahead. The late afternoon sun pierces my eyes, and I can’t help but furrow my brow. Salty air blows my hair in and out of my eyes, increasing in strength as we approach the stone city gates.
Esvelon.
I’ve only been to Esvelon a handful of times. Once with my parents and Vestella for a calm, family outing, and another as my mother’s travel companion when she’d met with Esvelon’s presiding Thane—the appointed head of the city—a proud, wiry fae male who has been loyal to my family for as long as I can remember.
As we approach the gates, Asheros lengthens his posture, shielding me from view. His shadows wrap around me with delicate softness, blurring my surroundings with a dark tint. If the others notice, they don’t show it. They keep their eyes ahead so as not to draw attention to me.
When a male voice calls out to us, I understand why.
I’m recognizable here.
The world believes I’m missing. If I’m to keep my whereabouts a secret for the sake of our mission, we can’t risk one of the city guards manning the gate knowing who I am. I would do the same if I were in Asheros’s place.
“Who goes there?” A guard bellows. From what I can tell, he’s positioned above us in the tower to the left of the gate.
“Lord Asheros Larmanne, heir-apparent to the Silver Court,” Asheros announces. Seamlessly, he’s shifted back into Asheros, the cocky, smug fae lord. Though I know it’s just for show, my heart aches for the relaxed, playful, and easy-going Asheros. The one that I’m coming to know.
The one that I might be —
My eyes widen.
The one I’m falling for.
Asheros doesn’t wait for the guards to stumble through their surprise before continuing. “I’m here on business.” He pauses for a moment, and I swear I can hear his smirk. “I’d like to be granted entry sometime this century, if you would be so kind.”
The guard coughs. “Of course, my lord. Right away, my lord. You heard the male,” he hollers. “Open the gate!”
There’s a scuffling of feet and then the sounds of chains working a crank skitter across the stone, some of it lost to the sea breeze.
Asheros dips his head. He lightly squeezes his thighs, urging our horse forward and tugs on the reins. We canter beneath the gate’s prongs, Kheldryn and Savell immediately behind us.
“That was… easy,” I grumble. I’d have to speak to the Thane about security measures at the gate.
Then again, it is a large city, though not as expansive as Illnamoor. Many travel in and out on any given day, whether to access the port, or to visit the city’s illustrious market as a buyer or seller.
“What can I say?” Asheros remarks, glancing back at me. “Few can resist my undeniable charm.”
“Charm.” I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
Asheros laughs and redirects his attention to the road ahead. I straighten to look over his shoulder, squinting to see through his shadows.
Noticing my struggle, Asheros lowers his shadows just enough to clear my vision.
I give his shoulder a light squeeze, silently conveying my thanks. With my sight unobscured, the familiar sprawl I see before me rings true with my memory. The river splits the city in half, continuing all the way to Esvelon’s furthermost boundary, where it flows out into the sea.
On each side, following the river, are narrow cobblestone streets sprinkled with pale sand connected by stone bridges at roughly even intervals. People bustle to and from shops, wearing modestly colored clothes while carrying baskets of weaved cloth, knitted garments, or painted pottery.
The buildings—faded blue-gray colors, the paint worn from the salty winds—are only about two stories high with sloped roofs. White, wooden shutters frame the second story windows, some of which have people, humans and fae alike, peering out from within them.
We continue deeper into the heart of Esvelon, the cerulean waters visible along the outskirts of the city. Horses pulling wagons pass by us in either direction, likely merchants headed for the market. Despite being small in size, the city’s lively port sits in the distance. Vessels compact enough to pass through the strait that shields Esvelon’s secluded cove from ocean storms, wait at the docks.
“Any idea where to find Arella?” Asheros asks, scanning our surroundings .
“No.” I sigh. I should have asked Viridian more questions about the sole witness to Vorr’s murder. Coming here blind wasn’t my smartest move.
“That’s all right,” Asheros assures me. “I have an idea.”
I arch a brow. “An idea?”
Beckoning to the others with two fingers, he veers us off to the side of the road in front of what looks to be a pottery shop. We gather outside the building, huddled into a semi-circle that faces the wall.
Asheros’s shadows retreat, allowing me to see the others clearly.
He begins to explain his idea, and Ronan and Orim immediately sport shit-eating grins.
I listen to his ludicrous plan, my curiosity morphing to astonishment with each word spoken.
This is his plan? Truly?
When he finishes, Asheros shrugs. “You’d be surprised how much information people are willing to part with when given the opportunity.”
He can’t be serious. In my time as Captain of the High King’s Guard, information was never obtained that easily. It took planning and patience. Not… whatever kind of theatrics this is.
Blinking at him with disbelief, I cross my arms. “You mean to tell me you’re just going to walk up to people and ask?”
He glances back at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Watch and learn, Bladesinger.”
“You must be joking.” When none of them respond, I turn to Savell, Kheldryn, and Gryska for support. “They’re joking, aren’t they?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Kheldryn tells me, an exhausted look setting into her brow. “You weren’t here the last time they did this.”
“The last time? ” I echo, my voice growing firm.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” Savell says, shaking his head with defeat, “but it’s surprisingly effective.”
“Of course it is,” Asheros cuts in, confidence brimming in his expression. “Orim’s a brilliant actor.”
Ronan gestures to Orim’s head and grabs his face, smushing the other male’s cheeks. “And who can say no to that face?”
Orim merely shrugs, a little too innocently. “It’s a gift.”
“Let’s go through this again to make sure I’m understanding this plan of yours.” I cross my arms. “The three of you are going to wander the streets and pretend to be Arella’s long-lost cousins who have suddenly decided to pay her a visit?”
Ronan nods, a whole-body motion rich with enthusiasm. “Right.”
“Yet her so-called cousins have no idea where she lives,” I say. Without intending to, my voice rises several octaves.
“That’s why we’re long- lost cousins,” Orim explains. “We’ve lost touch, so it makes sense that we don’t know where she lives now.”
“That’s…” Inhaling deeply, I rub my forehead.
“It’s all right,” Gryska says, placing her hands on her hips. “Ya can tell ‘em it’s a stupid plan.”
“Stupid,” Ronan says with an even wider grin. “But effective.”
Asheros looks at me, his mouth still curved into that devilish smirk. “If you have a better idea, Bladesinger, then please, do enlighten us.”
My brows knit together, and I narrow my eyes. When I commanded the Guard, networks of spies positioned throughout the Courts were my best source of information. Eyes and ears from within the inner workings of the major cities, who reported directly to me.
Right now, that’s not an option I can utilize. What’s important is finding Arella, and at the moment, resources aren’t our strong suit. I’ll have to take what I can get. No matter how ridiculous.
I let out a sigh. “Just do it.”
“Yes!” Ronan exclaims with a fist in the air. Rubbing his palms together, he adds, “It’s go time.”
“Stay close,” Asheros tells me, Kheldryn, Gryska, and Savell, his tone shifting to become more serious. “We’ll regroup once we’ve gained the information we need.”
Nodding, I force myself to swallow any last-minute remarks.
Asheros hands me our mount’s reins. “Take this. ”
I do, keeping a relaxed but secure grip on them.
Shadows bleed from Asheros’s feet, rising to swallow me in a protective shield. Turning to face the road, he slips away from us and into the crowd with Ronan and Orim at his sides. Ronan and Orim’s horses trail behind them, forcing the crowd to part around them.
Kheldryn and Savell slink back against the building, moving parallel to Asheros to keep him in view. Gryska and I follow, keeping our focus on the people filling the street.
Asheros, Ronan, and Orim stop to talk to an elderly couple selling knitted garments outside of one of the shops. Orim talks with his hands, his motions lively and animated. The woman smiles, seemingly charmed by him. Ronan nods at something said and then rests his head on Orim’s shoulder.
Orim lightly pats Ronan’s head.
Shaking my head in bewilderment, I grit my teeth to contain my laughter.
The woman’s expression melts at their display. Leaning forward, she places her hand over her heart. She says something I can’t hear and then reaches out to Asheros with a knitted item in her hands.
Smiling at her, Asheros accepts it and dips his head. Locking eyes with me through the crowd, Asheros motions his hand forward, as though to urge us ahead.
I nod, and glance at the others before flicking my eyes back to him. The three of them say their goodbyes to the elderly couple and make their way farther down the street before taking refuge beneath a shop’s awning.
Kheldryn and Savell are already moving, Gryska and I at their heels. Savell weaves through the crowd and then he and Kheldryn join Asheros under the awning.
Since we have two of the horses, Gryska and I wait for an opportunity to cross. I squint, though it does little to improve my vision. I rely on Gryska instead, angling my head to get a better sense of her presence.
After a rickety wagon passes, we step into the street, tugging the horses after us. Once we join the others, Asheros lowers the shadows around me.
“So?” Kheldryn asks, placing a hand on her hip. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yes.” Asheros’s grin is triumphant. He raises the knitted square. It’s a simple-looking stitch made from cerulean and silver dyed wool. “We even got a present for her, free of charge.”
“How’d ya manage that?” Gryska arches a brow.
Orim proudly puffs out his chest. “I told the woman running the shop that it was our dear cousin’s birthday.”
“And if we didn’t make it to her house,” Ronan adds with a trembling lip, “she’d be all alone.”
Savell opens his mouth, then closes it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
“Come,” Asheros says, taking our mount’s reins from me. “Let’s go visit our dear cousin , shall we?”
T he gods must be smiling down on us because Arella Kellener still lives in Esvelon.
Her house sits along the outskirts of the city beyond the glowing lanterns lining the main roads that run parallel to the river. By the time we approach the small cottage, the sun sinks below the horizon, glimmering on the darkening ocean water. A small, reinforced steel lantern hangs above a rounded wooden door. More warm light shines from within the cottage, visible through a little window beside the front door.
We dismount, keeping our horses close when we do. Savell, Ronan, and Kheldryn hang back, while Gryska and Orim seem more comfortable approaching the house.
“So, um,” Orim says, glancing between Asheros and I. “Is one of you going to knock, or…?”
“I’ll do it,” I say.
Asheros’s head snaps to me, his mouth parts as if to protest.
I continue, not affording him the opportunity. “Arella will recognize me from High Keep. She’ll be more likely to speak with us if she’s met with a familiar face.”
Asheros closes his mouth, unease flickering across his brow.
“It’s fine,” I tell him with a pat to his arm. “No need to get all protective. ”
For a moment, his brows furrow, then immediately relax. His expression softens in a silent “ Of course .”
“Well, then,” Gryska huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “Get to it before night falls, would ya?”
Pressing my lips together to suppress a chuckle, I approach the door to the cottage and raise my fist to knock. But before my fingers meet wood, the door swings open, revealing a soft, round face.
It takes me a moment, then the familiarity washes over me. Arella and I didn’t cross paths often, but when we did, I remember her being quiet and softspoken.
Her eyes widen at the sight of me. “Captain? Uh, I mean—” she coughs “—Lady Wynterliff?” Dark eyes glance behind me to the others in my company. “What business do you have with me?”
“I’d like to ask you some questions.” I pause, unsure of the best way to phrase what it is I’ve come to ask her. “About—”
“The late High King’s death.” Her eyes briefly close, brows wrought with the kind of agony that comes from memories one can never escape from. She takes a breath and then meets my gaze. “I’ve already spoken with Captain Vilsdottyr.”
“Captain Vilsdottyr?” Asheros asks gently.
“My successor, Sura. She’s a friend,” I tell him over my shoulder. “She led the investigation after I left.”
“There’s nothing I can tell you now that I haven’t already told her,” Arella says, looking past me.
“I know.” I soften my voice. “Captain Vilsdottyr and I are grateful for your assistance. But I must ask for your help one more time.”
Unease works at Arella’s mouth, and her petite frame seems to curve into herself.
Asheros shifts his weight closer, touching his palm to the small of my back in a supportive gesture.
“Lord Larmanne and I are doing all we can to keep the kingdom safe,” I tell Arella, gesturing to Asheros.
Her dark gaze turns to him and then back at me, her expression still riddled with anxiety. Asheros’s thumb brushes against my back in circular motions, bringing me a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
“To do that, we need to know what happened that night.” Empowered, I pause and lock my eyes with hers. “I know you’re afraid, Arella. I know relieving those memories, even for a short time, will be painful. But I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was the only way to save the kingdom from ruin.”
Chewing her bottom lip, Arella is silent for what seems like a long while. Then she takes a deep breath, and steps backward, as if to let us pass.
“All right,” she says, looking at me. “All of you can come in.”