50. Move-In Day
One Year Later
The nice weather made it all the more bittersweet to be leaving Keel Watch Harbor. Sunshine beat against the marina dock, but the rolling morning breeze kept me cool in my new Von Leer University hoodie.
I anxiously played with the strings, keeping my hands busy so they’d spare my eyelashes. My stomach ached from lack of sleep. I’d been awake late into the night, staring at the ceiling of the room I shared upstairs with Orla.
My feet and ankles hung in the crisp water, and I inhaled. I would be okay. I’d already done the hard part. I’d gotten into Von Leer and would be entering as a sophomore after spending a year taking basic course requirements at the nearby community college, just as I’d planned.
Sitting on the dock helped to calm my raging nerves. Maybe it was because this was where we’d poured her ashes into the harbor a year ago, but this was where I felt the closest to Gams.
She’d call me silly for being nervous, but then she’d pull me into a hug and assure me I’d be wonderful anyway. Ever patient. Ever proud.
“The usual?” Ciarán’s voice crooned in my head, and I smiled at the water.
“Salmon lox today, actually. Special occasion.”
“And if I already cut the avocado?”
Una splashed out in the harbor, and I watched her green fur flash in the sun. I’d miss her, though I had a sneaking worry that in a week’s time, I’d catch her playing in the river that ran through campus.
“Then my usual will do fine.”
A sea star crept along the harbor floor beneath me, and Ciarán must’ve been watching the harbor through my eyes.
“Starfish,” he said. “That’s one to zero.”
“It doesn’t count if you aren’t here to see it yourself.”
“You don’t get to make up new rules just because you’re losing,” he scoffed.
“Then what’s the point of being a Saergrim?”
“No one likes a sore loser, especially when that sore loser is a god.” He laughed in my head. “You packed, right? Would you like me to come get you at the dock?”
“I packed, and no, that’s okay. I’ll meet you at the shop like we planned.”
“Of course, my Lady. I’ll see you in a minute. I’m headed there as soon as breakfast is done.”
I stood up, allowed myself to bask in the morning sun just a moment longer, thinking about Gams, and then slipped my sandals on to walk back down the dock and up the wooden steps to the shop.
Davyn stood at the back window, sipping a coffee from the shop down the street.
I still thought it strange to see tunics, leather pants, and boots more fit for Skalterra here in Keel Watch Harbor, but it had become the norm in the past year.
Skalterran tourists didn’t have anything else to wear, and Keldorian tourists from neighboring towns thought Keel Watch was leaning into a new, fantasy aesthetic.
Some of them had even taken to wearing their own costumes when they visited the town, unaware that the people here weren’t actors.
There hadn’t been too many visitors from Skalterra, of course. Word of the new, invincible Saergrim and her terrible wrath had spread fast. Unable to be killed by Skal, make her too angry and she might set her pet rotsbane loose on you.
The wicked rumors that had surrounded Gams had once protected Keldori, but wicked rumors were an effective tool, so I didn’t mind.
Besides, Skalterra was brimming with magick now. The people there had no need to visit Keldori anymore. Davyn was more than happy to help ferry the curious and brave few across the Bay of Teeth to the island cave where the Rift connected our worlds.
Those who visited stayed in town. It wasn’t safe for them outside of Keel Watch, but we took care of them when they were here. The increase in tourism was good for us, though we’d had to work together to establish a fair exchange rate between Keldorian money and Skalterran coin.
As for anyone who was dumb enough to come here with intentions to harm us, Davyn’s wife stayed in Darragh’s Watch with their daughters.
I’d met the formidable woman with her short-cropped hair and scarred face a couple of times.
She was a frightening woman, apparently a retired mercenary, but under our employment, I felt safer knowing her presence would help deter those who meant to hurt us.
“Miss Saergrim,” Davyn said, lifting his coffee cup as if to toast me when I entered through the shop’s back door.
“How’s traffic on the bay today, Davyn?”
“Slow. Just a few folk all the way from Willow’s Grave, but they’ve gone down the street to explore.
I might be able to get some fishing in if your onchú has left any for me down there.
” He nodded at the water towards where Una was now harassing a seal.
“Tell your mother thanks, by the way. I grabbed her newest release for Runa. We’ll see if she likes it as much as the last one, but the fellow on the cover looks like me, so I’m sure she will. ”
“Wren! Is that you?” Orla’s call beckoned me through the aisles, saving me from commenting on the shirtless man on Mom’s book cover and his apparent likeness to Davyn.
Davyn tipped his coffee at me again in farewell.
Orla’s thin shoulders relaxed as I approached the front register. Her green apron had “Liam” embroidered in white thread, and she pushed shoulder-length hair back from her face.
“You weren’t here when I woke up,” she fretted. “I thought you’d left without saying goodbye until I saw your things by the door.”
“Sorry, I went down to the dock. I couldn’t sleep.” I tried to smile through my nerves, but my pile of bags next to the shop door was agitating them again.
“Are you sure you want to go to that fancy school?” Orla asked. “It’s going to be lonely going to class without you.”
“You still have Sabrina to keep you company on the commute,” I reminded her.
“She doesn’t let me talk in the mornings. Something about it being too early for that.”
“Keep annoying Iseult then. Maybe she’ll finally enroll too.”
“Speaking of!” Orla’s face brightened as she looked to the door.
The doorway bell rang out as Iseult shouldered her way inside, carrying two coffees. Silver light spilled out from beneath her maxi-dress, and she skirted around the counter to give Orla a peck on the cheek and slip a coffee into her hand.
“There’s your poison,” she sang.
“It’s not poison, it’s delicious.”
“It’s mostly milk and sugar.”
“It’s better than leaf water.” Orla returned the kiss to Iseult’s cheek. “Watch the register while I help Wren carry her things out, alright?”
Jonquil leapt onto the counter as Orla came around and meowed dolefully at me.
“Don’t pretend like you’re going to miss me.” I scratched her under her chin to elicit a reluctant purr. “It’s Ciarán you’re going to miss.”
Orla slung an overstuffed duffle bag over her shoulder, but when I moved to help her, Iseult beckoned me back.
“Wren.” She held a hand out to me over the counter.
I stared at it for a moment, marveling at how Iseult’s strange behavior could still catch me off guard after all this time.
“Are you handshaking me goodbye?” I asked.
She grimaced. “Is there an alternative you’d prefer?”
“You can hug me, Iseult. We’ve reached that point.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her in over the counter so we could embrace over the register. It may have not been the most ergonomic hug ever, but it wasn’t the worst hug either.
“Take care of Orla,” I said.
“Don’t annoy Ciarán too much.”
I grinned as I pulled away. “I refuse to make that promise.”
Orla and I pushed through the door together, carrying my things. I was a light packer, with nothing more than two duffle bags, a backpack, and a bedding set. I didn’t own much to begin with, and I’d traveled much farther with much less before.
Mom waited with Fana on the sidewalk with fresh coffees. Her tight smile did a poor job hiding her true emotions, and the muscles in her cheeks fought against the twitching of her lips, but she refused to frown.
“Did you pack your phone charger?” she asked. “Laptop? Toiletries? Emergency Skal?”
“Yes, Mom.” I dropped a duffle bag to take the coffee and pulled Mom into a hug.
“And you’ll text me when you get there?” she said, tucked beneath my chin.
“Of course.”
“Keep your Grimguard close. He’ll keep you safe.”
“There’s no more Grimguards, Mom,” I reminded her through a watery laugh.
“Be that as it may, I’m not sure anyone told him that.” She pulled away to glance down the street. “And here comes the shining knight now.”
Riley’s gray truck rattled up to the shop, and Ciarán smirked from where he sat behind the driver’s seat. He’d definitely heard Mom’s “shining knight” comment through our tether.
As he parked the car and stepped out to help grab my things, however, he looked much more like a college student than a shining knight.
His eyes were amber and white, and his hair was pulled into a neat bun atop his head.
His new Von Leer hoodie was identical to his previous one, though I’d made sure he kept the hoodie we’d worn across Skalterra, despite its holes and tatters.
“Last chance to stay with me,” Orla joked.
I wrapped my arms around her in reply, holding her tight.
“Come visit soon, okay? You can take the train,” I said. “I’m going to miss you.”
“It’s not so bad saying goodbye when I know I’m going to see you again this time,” Orla said.
“I’m excited for you to leave,” Fana asserted. “It means I’ll be Jonquil’s favorite.”
“Rude,” Orla said, “but fair. I accept my place as Jonquil’s second favorite.”
“Lady Fireld, don’t let Jonquil torture Una, alright?” Ciarán grabbed my bags to throw into the bed of the truck with his.
Fana giggled, hesitated, and then flung herself at Ciarán with wide arms to hug him farewell.
“Be nice to Just-Wren,” she whispered.
Ciarán screwed up his face.
“If Just-Wren is nice to me, I’ll be nice to her,” he promised.
“Careful how you speak to the Saergrim,” his aunt Odharnait warned as she approached us along the sidewalk, walking with Ciarán’s uncle to say their goodbyes.
“The Saergrim likes it, I think.” Ciarán smirked at me over his aunt’s shoulder as she pulled him into a farewell hug.