12. Regent
REGENT
The little greer remains quiet for once.
I can’t help but glance in her direction from time to time just to ensure she’s still breathing.
She looks like a statue, stunned, and I would never say it to her, but scared.
All that venom drained from her as if she realized the extent of her curse.
Whatever it is, it clings to her like a miasma.
It was once a living thing pouring out of her in Lake Mahoori, but even now, it still breathes.
And either she’s never felt its wrath and darkness before, or she’s just realized it controls her more than the other way around.
Either way, she’s a liability, and the sooner I sell her off, the sooner she’s not my problem.
It’s another day’s worth of travel as we pass through the canyon and the great desert.
As expected, we haven’t run into anyone else.
I don’t like pulling away from the safety of the jungle.
The cruelty it emits ensures very few are daring enough to go in.
The sooner we return to the outskirts and toward the Volmere auctions, the better.
I open the carriage door, stepping to the side and allowing the stormbear and her cubs to come out for the first time.
She sniffs the air; I think they’ll like the relocation.
Unlike the harshness of the Boey Jungle and canyon, the terrain here suits them better.
It’s colder and higher in the mountains.
I’m distinctly aware of the beasts that roam these lands, and I know they’ll act as a deterrent for those who might try to poach or capture them again.
Esther stands behind me, watching from a distance.
I come to stand beside her as we watch the stormbears slowly walk toward the mountains, obscured in snow.
Esther holds herself, her teeth rattling.
That’s when I realize she must be cold. Since I’m unaffected by such things, I remove my leather coat and throw it over her shoulders, doubling on the coat she already wears.
She looks up at me, seemingly surprised.
“It doesn’t serve me to let you freeze to death.”
“Won’t you be cold?”
“I do not feel the heat or cold like you do, little greer. We go by foot now,” I say as I walk to the front of the carriage and free the buffalo, silently thanking them for their service.
“Wait, what?” she asks from behind me. It’s a surprising welcome, considering how quiet she’s grown over the last few days. Her little beast hides in the hood of her coat, his wide eyes peering out at me, evidently cold.
They’re not built for the harsh changes of this land. I grab the reins of my mare, pulling her in close.
“You best keep up if you don’t want to freeze to death,” I suggest as I begin to walk alongside the snowy terrain.
I can sense a snowstorm brewing, and we want to make sure we’re somewhere else when it passes through.
“Reene is the mare’s name, by the way. But she still won’t like you, even if you use it. ”
Esther sits across from me, apparently shocked as we sit in a small tavern at the base of the mountain. It’s a tiny village, missed by most, and quaint enough for us to slip in and out of when necessary.
“Can you believe it’s raining?” one of the bar wenches says, her voice like razors on my nerves from too many cigars.
I don’t enjoy time spent around others, so I focus on the little greer in front of me.
Her nose is still red from the cold, but seems to be warming by the fireplace we’ve sat beside in the corner of the establishment.
Two bowls of stew are brought to us, and I purposefully look away out of habit, even though my face is hidden under my mask and leather coat.
It’s a deterrent for most to look me in the eyes, unlike the little greer across from me, whose gaze darts between me and the stew.
Her face is downcast, hidden by her own coat as I instructed her.
It seems the greer is coming to understand the terms of her survival. If she gives me no grief, I won’t have to shackle her in chains again. I consider it progress that she hasn’t tried to slit my throat in the past few days.
“Did you premeditate and put poison in it?” she asks cryptically as she dips a spoon into the steamy stew. But once she inhales, a small moan escapes her. The sound stirs something in me, and I shift uncomfortably as my gaze drops to her lips, watching as she takes a mouthful.
My hands fist against my pants as I find myself further bewildered, dare I say charmed, by the oddity she is, which is problematic. I hate her kind the most. I push my bowl of stew toward her, no longer feeling an appetite and knowing she needs it more.
“I would think of far more creative ways to end your existence than with something so basic as poison. Besides, shouldn’t you have waited for my response before you took a mouthful?”
She casually shrugs and looks around the room, peering from beneath her hooded coat. I notice the way she’s constantly looking over her shoulder.
The bar wench brings two ales and places them on the table. My upper lip curls at her offensive odor, but I take the drink. The ale smells even worse, but over the years I’ve come to enjoy its numbing effects on the odd occasion.
“Wow, warm food and ale, it must be my birthday or some—” Her forest-green eyes look up at me through thick eyelashes.
“I still have a week until I’m twenty, dipshits.” Those were the words she spoke back at the very first village we robbed for the boots and clothes she wears now.
Wind howls as the tavern doors open, and two burly men walk in.
My eyes drop to the green, glowing randor blades at their hips.
I cast my magic beyond the tavern, connecting with my mare, ensuring she’s still safe in the barn close by.
I set a trap for anyone who might approach her, but I rarely make appearances in places such as these because humans and greers alike are not to be trusted.
Esther couldn’t be any more obvious as she glares at the randor blades.
“Do you always make it a habit to stare?” I quietly ask, my voice gravelly from the weight of clay at my throat.
Her head snaps in my direction, the orange glow of candlelight flickering between us. The edges of her red hair appear orange as she says, “Not all of us have eyes in the back of our heads.”
I almost smirk. “If you’re referring to the number of times you’ve tried to kill me in my sleep with no success, then yes, multiple eyes are everywhere.”
“There has to be some defect on that perfect smug face of yours.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You think I’m attractive?”
She seems to realize what she said as she gulps down the ale. “Turns out my brain is rotting from the cold.”
I hide the smirk as I follow suit and drink the offensive ale.
I don’t plan on staying here for long, but I tentatively watch the newcomers as I allow her to have this time, at least. I imagine someone as coddled in finery such as Esther is used to having people wait on her.
But the calluses on her hands and the fierceness in her expression tell me otherwise. She also has a warrior’s heart.
And as problematic as this woman is, it’s certainly the most entertainment I’ve had in years. “Tell me about the kingdom you come from.”
She eyes me skeptically. It’s not that I care to know more about her, but considering the shit luck the Fates have handed her, I figure I can at the very least let her feel like she has a little bit of home on her coming-of-age day.
“It’s surrounded by the sea,” she says, evidently wary not to give too much information. “The climate is consistent. It’s peaceful. Well, it was.” She takes another sip of her ale.
A sobering mood sits between us, and I lean forward, my arms above the table as I try to draw her back out of that contempt.
I much prefer her with her viper tongue lashing out at me instead of when she noticeably draws into herself.
“And your little beast?” I point to her throat.
“Is that where you contracted with him?”
Her hand goes to her throat, most likely surprised by my guess, but when her fingers touch her skin, she realizes her telling sign.
There’s nothing she does that I do not notice.
“I’ve had him for as long as I can remember.
And as you once suggested, we might be no good for one another,” she says with a sad smile.
“Really? What havoc do you wreak back at home?” I ask, studying the subtle changes in her expression.
The mention of mischief seems to bring her back to life and calms her magic that swirls around her, always seemingly agitated.
She’s young by years, letting her magic feed off her emotions.
But past the greer that she is, I see the fierce woman beneath fighting to survive.
It’s just shit luck I was the one to find her.
“Well, dare I say we’re the best thieves in town,” she says, the touch of a smirk on her lips.
“Is that right? I couldn’t imagine you, who reprimands me about stealing boots, being a thief.”
She casually shrugs and leans in as if letting me in on a secret. “But we steal fun things; anyone can steal boots.”
“Hmm.” I arch a brow, playing into her game, that smile more dazzling than it was only a moment ago.
“Challenge me to steal three things in this room, and they’ll be mine by the end of the night.”
Cocky little shit.
In unison, we both look around the room under our hoods.
“Be careful, little greer, you might become a criminal on this land as well.”
She bites her bottom lip, and I refrain from acting on the urge to trace it with my thumb. My jaw grinds as I’m startled with the realization of finding her attractive.
“Well, since I’m your prisoner and all, I’m not in the wrong. If you tell me I have to, then I simply have to,” she says with a coy smile.
I want to pull away from the lure, drawn in by some enchantment. Yet I remain face-to-face with her, bewitched by the mischievous glint in her gaze. Not a captive or criminal on the run. Just a woman up to no good.
“The old man’s talisman,” I suggest, pointing to the elderly man who wears the silver marking at his chest. She follows my line of sight. “The basket of fruit on the kitchen table.” She leans back now as if stretching, but takes a better look inside through the open-walled kitchen.
“Easy. What else?”
I grab the edge of her hood, pulling it farther down so her red hair doesn’t spill out. In these parts, red hair isn’t common, and the last thing I need is for her to stand out. Her green eyes flicker against the flame as she watches me expectantly.
My thumb rubs along the edge of her hood, coming to a stop at the bottom near her throat. Her breath hitches, and I like the way it unnerves her, but especially despise the awakening it brings forth in me.
I lean back into my chair, catching the flush of her cheeks. “And the boar head mounted on the wall.”
She collects herself, shoving away the tension we had only a moment ago. “What do I win when we obtain all three items? A warm room to stay in?” She wriggles her brows, and I pick up the ale and take a sip.
“You seem to feel overly entitled to my pouch of coins, considering you’re nothing but a prisoner.”
She sighs and flops back into the chair. “Still a tight ass I see. That’s not a very fun game.”
“You seem to be playing your part rather well.”
She glares, but I can see the playful smile on her lips.
Then she pulls back and sneezes, a shadow materializes.
A blue scaly tail slithers around her hand as she picks up her ale and offers it midair.
I can feel her little beast scurrying about the place, curious by their little pick-pocket tendencies.
This isn’t permanent, and so it doesn’t hurt to loosen up, if only a fraction. I pick up my own ale and press it against hers.