Chapter 2
Two
Aesira
Ancient spires and decorated arched windows stood tall against the morning sun as Aesira and Kamari wound through the city center. As much as Aesira resented being stationed in Vargah, where the heat was worse than the monsters over the wall, she couldn’t deny the beauty of the city.
Mosaic tiles created patterns against the otherwise monotonous brown of the buildings. The looming sandstorm in the distance, casted a glow over the city, making everything look like it had been dipped in red dye.
Or blood.
Morbid, her mother would call her, for thinking such a thing. She couldn’t help it. She was raised in blood, from the moment she stepped foot into the Order, her life revolved around it.
She was taught precisely how to spill it, how to protect it, to keep her knights and the kingdoms safe.
So when the dust cloud hovered above the city, staining it crimson, how could she not think of blood.
“Where are we going?” she asked, tightening her palm around the pommel of her sword. “And why do you have so many books with you?”
“They’re not books,” Kamari said, “they’re journals. Just follow me and stop asking me questions. Isn’t that your job, to follow me?”
“As in Desmond’s journals?” Aesira had only seen them a handful of times and honestly thought very little of them. They were nothing but nonsense and drawings of moths and monsters, scribbled words that held no meaning.
Kamari waved her free hand at a few children playing games in the dusty streets. Aesira was normally able to read Kamari with ease, even when she had her queen’s face on, but after the meeting with the council, she couldn’t tell if her sister was angry or determined.
Both, she supposed.
“Of course they’re Desmond’s journals,” Kamari said. “Why are you asking me so many questions?"
“My job is to keep Vargah safe, you know,” Aesira said, catching up to walk in sync with Kamari. “That includes you. Asking questions is how I do my job.”
Especially you, she wanted to say. She and her knights typically manned the wall farther north toward Novaria, but with the peace treaty Vargah now became part of the Order’s jurisdiction.
They reaped the benefits of not only Piscis Spring but the band of knights trained to slay any beasts that approached.
“I need to speak to someone and I assumed since you’re so nosy, you would want to come.”
“I’m not nosy,” Aesira mumbled from her side. “I just told you questions are my job.”
“I thought violence was your job.”
Aesira glanced at her sister, the purple dress she wore a reflection of the city colors.
Of her new home. New life. “That too.” Her armor was tight as they wove down a narrow alley, bypassing the busiest part of the market.
“Now that we’re alone, are we going to talk about what happened back there? ”
Kamari bristled, her face pinching. “The moment I realized Desmond was missing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the council jumped down my throat.” She shifted the journals in her arms but shook her head when Aesira reached to grab them from her. “It’s like they were waiting for me to fail.”
Kamari and Aesira emerged from the other side of the alley, weaving through the streets of the city, passing various food and merchant carts.
Vibrant scarves and tapestries were hung by strings, shielding the vendors from the unforgiving heat.
“It isn’t your fault Desmond is gone,” Aesira said. “You didn’t fail.”
Kamari shook her head and Aesira didn’t press it. They were both Zeliath’s. Daughters of their father. Failure of any kind was never tolerated and the weight of perfection was pinned to their shoulders from birth. “Did you find Nev? Is she–”
“She’s looking into it,” Aesira said. “She’ll find whoever wrote the parchment.” Though, Aesira couldn’t see how it would help. News and rumors in the city burned through like a raging fire. As if the people of Vargah had nothing better to do during the hottest months other than cause a frenzy.
The heat of the desert scorched the tips of Aesira’s ears, her bronze chest plate adding an extra layer to her already heavy armor. “You could have sent Hanna, you know.”
“No. As much as I appreciate her, there’s no one else I trust to do this.” Kam's short curls bobbed as she waved to a set of workers repairing an area of the wall. “I needed to speak to him myself.”
“Him? Who is him?” They rounded a final corner through a tight alleyway before ending at the Boneyard District.
Monstrous ships sat docked, hovering above the sweltering sands.
Their sails were tied down, a large “V” etched into the wood siding.
The ships were Vargah’s most powerful defense during the war.
Fueled by astra, it was a luxury Novaria could never compete with though it didn’t stop them from trying.
Aesira’s brows rose before they quickly furrowed. Of all the places, of all the people.
“You’re blushing,” Kamari said with a side glance.
“I’m not. It’s just the damn heat.” Aesira brushed a few rogue curls from her face, willing her heart to slow down, her skin to cool. “Why are we here?”
Kamari ignored her question and strode forward, toward the large ships that wavered above the sand. “I’ve never seen you so flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” Aesira bit out so quickly the words jumbled together.
She wasn’t flustered, except she absolutely was.
Kamari laughed and if they’d been somewhere private Aesira would have kicked her.
“I’m wondering why my sister, the queen of Vargah, has decided she must meet with a smuggler–”
“Ex,” a familiar, deep voice said, raising the hairs on her arms and neck.
The smuggler stepped out from behind an old tarp that was hung like a curtain, his dark blue eyes blazing in the morning sun.
“Though, you already know that don’t you, Commander?
” He took a slow sip from his mug, eyeing the two of them over the edge.
Distorted light cut across his sharp face, catching on the jagged scar that ran from his eyebrow to his jaw.
He wore a tattered white shirt and typical mechanic pants, lined in grease and dust. A pencil was stuck behind his ear and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles sat on top of his dark, auburn hair.
“Apologies for my sister, Mr…”
“Stone Odega,” he said, dropping in a bow.
Odega.
Aesira cooled her features, smoothing the deep line between her brows. Odega was the name given to all criminals in Vargah, making it easy for them to be identified and if there was anything Stone wore well, it was the name Odega.
“Right.” Kamari took a step forward and Aesira dutifully followed, her hand tightening around the pommel of her blade. “Mr. Odega–”
“Just Stone, if you don’t mind.” His eyes darted again to Aesira. She focused instead on Kamari. That’s why she was here.
For Kamari.
“Sorry, of course. Stone,” Kamari corrected. “I was wondering if we may have a word with you?”
Aesira glanced around the Boneyard where several other workers had gathered. She didn’t often visit this part of Vargah and she knew Kamari didn’t either. With the wandering eyes of the workers, they were beginning to make a scene.
“Maybe somewhere private?” Aesira suggested, returning her eyes to Stone whose own stare was burning into her. She bit her tongue, wincing when she hit the sore spot from earlier.
He drew back the tarp from which he came. “This way.”
Sunlight beamed through the holes in the tarp as they each took a seat around a makeshift table. A few overhead lights were on, their brightness dim from the small amount of astra that was supplied to this part of the city.
“A drink?” Stone asked, his fingers tapping the edge of his mug.
“No, thank you,” Kamari said, taking a seat.
Aesira positioned herself behind Kamari, eyes searching the room.
There wasn’t much to see. A few weathered couches, upholstery worn down on the arms and back. A table with far too many chairs around it to be comfortable. Piles and piles of abandoned ship parts, buckets filled to the brim with what appeared to be gears, bolts, and tools.
“So,” Stone said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of the queen's visit and the highly esteemed Commander Zeliath?” His smile pulled his scar taut, but otherwise brightened his face.
His arrogant face, she reminded herself.
Aesira glanced away, looking toward the tarp, watching for any rogue ears that might be listening.
“I have a proposition for you,” Kamari said, setting the journals on the table. “As you know, my husband has gone missing.”
Stone took the pencil from behind his ear, fidgeting with it between his fingers. “There’s not a soul in Vargah that doesn’t know the king’s disappeared.”
Kamari drew in a long breath. “I’m looking for someone that has the ability to navigate a ship through the stormy season.”
Aesira’s breath hitched, her shoulders growing stiff. Her sister didn’t tell her why she was coming here and now she understood. If Aesira had known this was her plan–
“According to city records,” Kamari said, “you have flown more trade runs in your time on parole than anyone else in the Boneyard District.”
Aesira scoffed. “He also has more citations than anyone else.” Kamari shot her a glare. “Apologies, Your Majesty.” Aesira clenched her jaw, forcing her mouth to stay shut. They weren’t just Kamari and Aesira here, they were Commander and Queen and Kamari outranked her every time.
Stone glanced between them before popping the pencil he’d been tapping behind his ear.
“That’s because no one else in the Boneyard District is trusted to fly a ship,” he said.
“The only reason I was granted access was because I offered something in return. Nothing’s ever given freely, especially to an Odega. ”
“And what was it you offered?” Kamari asked, folding her hands across her lap.
Stone sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“A new engine model. One that can fly twice as long and run on half the amount of astra. A miracle the armada ever made it through the desert at all before with that primitive design. When I was released from prison, the Boneyard District was my station while on parole. Didn’t take long to realize it was a fucking mess. ” His eyes blew wide. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Kamari said. “Please, continue.”
“Anyway, the district was still running with decades old equipment. An absolute abhorrent and unnecessary use of astra.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table.
“In fact, it was King Desmond that offered me the promotion. He was generous enough to take a meeting with me and my supervisor at the time. Heard my pitch about the new model. The next day, Chap was gone and I was in charge of the lot.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Awfully impressive for someone your age,” Kamari said.
Stone shrugged. “That’s not the point,” he said. “Your royal fliers have been trained on how to operate and maintain the new engines, you don’t need me to fly for them anymore.”
Instinctively Aesira looked around the dim room, confirming no one else was joining them. This was the kind of conversation to be had behind closed, secure doors, not behind a ratted old tarp.
“Along with an experienced flier,” Kamari said, “I’m also looking for discretion.” Stone’s brows shot up. “As far as the council and anyone in Vargah knows, this will be a routine drop off to the Outpost. Nothing more.”
Aesira’s hand was beginning to ache, clenching her sword so tightly, her jaw and teeth bound together.
Kamari was always the reasonable one. The one who guided Aesira and Eldrin, their younger brother, when they were lost; which for them was often.
This plan, leaving during a storm season, made no sense. It was dangerous. Reckless.
“Except if it were routine,” Stone said, “it wouldn’t be for another few months, after the sandstorms have died down.
” A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes drifted past Kamari, landing on Aesira.
She shifted, looking away but she could still feel him staring and despite how hard she tried, her cheeks began to heat.
“It still doesn’t answer my question, Your Majesty.
Why would you need me to fly a ship during storm season? ”