Chapter 33
We are a little over two days’ ride from Kalsevden, or so Aelric said. We’d made better time than Caene estimated. Antsy, excited, and unable to relax, I pepper Caene with questions to distract myself. Thankfully, he never loses patience with me.
“How do you know Ryfin?” I ask. I had a glimpse of their friendship through Ryfin, but curiosity is getting the better of me.
“Sons of Exalted houses sometimes become friends as children. Governesses usually know one another and bring the Exalted children to play together. Sometimes a bond forms. Something about shared trauma. We rarely leave our manors except to interact with other Exalted, or if we’re getting paid, and our governesses are usually dismissed after our assignment ceremonies. We’re considered adults at that point.”
“At eight years old?” I ask incredulously.
Caene nods. “Unfortunately, jealousy and territorialism make it difficult to remain friends into adulthood. Ryfin’s father and mine, for example, can’t stand to be in the same room. Exalted patriarchs don’t play well with others.”
“But you and Ryfin could have been brothers, the way you treated each other back there. You clearly care for each other.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “He was ignored, used, and abused by his family most of his life. We all are to some degree, but Ryfin’s torment was something else. He isolated himself to protect himself. He needed someone to protect him, so I did the best I could.”
The similarities between what Caene says about Ryfin and what Ryfin said about Caene are heartbreaking.
I settle further into Caene’s embrace atop Bazil. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Most of the rest of the ride, however, is either comfortable silence or planning Isi’s rescue before Maziar can get to her. If we can get her from the bordello and avoid Montbeth Manor altogether, I can save both her and Caene. I can stop both visions from coming to pass.
We decide that we will enter the city through the Rookery, as it’s so overpopulated that we’ll hopefully be able to blend into the crowd.
Caene is known in the Estates, so if we’re seen there it would certainly get back to Maziar.
Unfortunately for Bazil, horses are few and far between among the impoverished.
Having one would immediately put a target on our back.
We’re discussing our options regarding Bazil when Lake Naleoa comes into view.
I had forgotten how beautiful it is. I’m not able to get to the lake very often but the icy blue water, fed from the tops of the Benea Mountains and surrounded by towering fir trees, is truly stunning.
The water doesn’t appear to have iced over yet, so the sun reflecting off the waves creates a dazzling light show so bright I have to shield my eyes with my hand.
Near the banks of the lake we spot a farmer tilling the ashy soil by hand.
Not much grows here. The land has been worked too hard for too long.
He’s old and bent at such an angle his nose practically touches the dirt.
I wouldn’t be surprised if his spine never straightened.
I look back at Caene and smile, tilting my head at the farmer.
Caene’s lips curve up in a stunning grin, flashing me his delicious dimples.
My breath catches as he steers Bazil in the man’s direction.
The man looks up as we approach, his skin like old leather from days in the sun.
He holds his hoe in front of him like a weapon, ready to fight anyone who threatens him or his land.
I was right when I assumed he wouldn’t be able to fully straighten.
The closer we get, the more he has to look up, the harder it is for him to maintain eye contact.
Years of working the land has clearly altered his back. My heart squeezes for him.
I flash him a charming smile, the same one I would use the few times I was caught with my hand in someone’s pocket. I’ve found this particular smile puts people at ease, makes them more willing to trust me.
“Hello,” I say sweetly.
“What do you want?” he growls, his voice rough. I guess my charming smile isn’t working.
“We were wondering if you could use a horse?” I ask him, keeping my smile in place, my voice like spun sugar.
His eyes narrow to slits, the skin around them crinkling further. “What’s the catch?” he asks. I can’t blame him for his suspicion. Nothing comes for free. Though his eyes betray the intrigue behind his glare.
“No catch. We simply have no use for Bazil here any longer,” I say, reaching forward and stroking the steed. The man watches me closely, raising his hoe a little higher.
“He’s quite healthy, I assure you. He could help you work your land,” I suggest. “Please. We can’t take him with us and a farm might be a pleasant place for him to live out the remainder of his days.”
The farmer’s gaze darts between mine, Caene’s, and Bazil’s. Still holding his hoe out, he nods. We dismount, and Caene approaches the farmer to hand him Bazil’s reins. I walk around Bazil to his face and give his nose one last pat and a kiss.
“Bye Bazil,” I whisper, swallowing the emotion clogging my throat. I don’t know when I became so attached to the animal. We turn from him and continue our journey into Kalsevden on foot.
“Wait!” the farmer calls our attention back to him.
He hobbles after us, his hunched frame unable to move quickly.
He looks up at Caene and thrusts his hand toward him.
“Thank you.” Caene takes his hand and shakes it.
The farmer then reaches for my hand and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
“Thank you so much.” His eyes find mine and I can see they’re watery. I smile at him and nod.
“Take good care of him,” I say as Caene’s hand on my lower back leads me away, toward the city.
There are so many people packed in the narrow streets of the Rookery, begging, bartering, thieving, prostituting, and simply standing about that it’s easy to melt into the crowd.
The only thought in my head is Isirae. She’s like a beacon in the bordello calling me.
I must get to her before Maziar. I can only hope we’re not too late.
I pick up the pace, weaving through crowds, down side alleys, and between crumbling buildings, heading straight for the bordello.
I know this borough like I know my own body.
I could walk it blindfolded at night and still find my way around.
Caene has no trouble keeping up with me through the throngs, despite his gargantuan size.
He’s drawing stares and unwanted attention but I won’t stop now, won’t slow down.
There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.
We have to duck behind buildings a couple of times to avoid the Garrison.
They’ll no doubt recognize Caene since it’s his family that outfits them with weapons and training.
When Berttom’s comes into view around the final corner onto Vymal Street, I break out into a jog. Caene’s hand on my arm stops me dead.
“What? It’s right there,” I say, pointing at the building, pulling my arm free.
“We had a plan remember? We wait and watch,” he says, grabbing my hand this time. “My father obviously knows you have a connection with Isirae. He will use her to get to you.”
“I know! That’s why we’re here. He could already be in there. He could already have her! Fuck the plan!” My voice goes shrill, and my eyes are so wide I’m sure they’re bulging. I struggle to pull free of his grasp.
“We’ll know by nightfall.”
“She could be dead by nightfall!”
Why is he stalling?
“I understand, Vayna, but she could be dead now and you will either follow her or be taken if we aren’t careful. You won’t let me make you invulnerable and I won’t risk you.”
My blood boils. Rage seeps from every pore. I finally manage to rip my hand from his grasp. “I don’t care! Right now this isn’t about me!”
I turn from him, storming toward the front door.
Caene wraps his arms around my waist, hauling me to his chest. I struggle in his hold, kicking and punching, trying anything to get out of his embrace and to Isi.
We’re creating a scene, drawing more stares and unwanted attention, though no one cares to intervene.
“Stop.” His warm breath tickles my ear. “Please stop.” The pleading in his voice causes my heart to flutter. I pause and he places me on my feet, but he doesn’t let me go very far. I turn in his arms to face him, freezing at the desperation clear in his eyes.
“We will do everything possible to save Isirae. I swear on my life. But I can’t lose you in the process. I just can’t.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek.
“If we wait for the cover of night, we have a better chance of sneaking in unnoticed with the other patrons.” His eyes hold mine. “My father wants you. Only you. He’ll be watching. Please. Trust me.”
I chew on my lip. Trust. It’s not something I’m used to giving. But as I stare into his eyes, I find I do trust him. And he’s right. Maziar wants me. Not Isi. He might not even know about her yet. My life would me so much easier if my stupid visions had clear timelines.
Of course, I could walk right in, it’s my home after all, but having been gone for so long will probably make me a target for Otyx and the artifacts.
We need to be smart, assess, and weigh all possibilities before barreling forward.
If I go in now and wait, Otyx will have time to get to me.
If we wait until we see her, there’s a better chance of getting in and out quickly.
Fight with your brain first. Feron’s advice floats back to me. My fear and desperation nearly blinded me.
I look back to the bordello, sending a silent prayer to the gods above and the goddesses on earth, and even Death himself, that Isi is inside, asleep in her bed, safe for now. I know they’re not there, not listening, but desperation overrides logic. I turn my face back to Caene’s and nod.