Chapter 35
Water stretched in every direction, blue-grey and endless.
The ship creaked as it cut through the sea, its sail drawn taut.
Salt clung to Aisha’s skin. She sat on the mid-deck, her cloak pulled tightly around her, staring at the horizon.
It was day two at sea, but it felt more like day thirty thanks to the ever-present nausea.
Mira dozed at her side while Maryam sat a respectful distance away, occupying a shaded corner closer to the stern.
She was seated on a crate with her face tilted to the sky.
They had barely spoken since their departure.
There was no hostility between them, but no warmth either.
Just silence. A growing heaviness between two people simply trying to survive.
Yawning, Mira moved to Aisha’s lap, nuzzling her hand. Aisha obliged, her thoughts circling back to Tariq as they had done so many times. She recalled his tense body and icy tone. The finality of his words. She knew she would survive it, but she didn’t know who she would be at the end of it all.
The hours passed in a slow, sun-drenched haze. While the nausea dulled, it never truly left. She remained in that spot, with Mira sprawled across her thighs. Occasionally, a crew member passed by and nodded a greeting, but they didn’t stop. No one knew what to say to the king’s exiled bride.
By mid-afternoon, the clouds thinned and the coastline appeared.
Montia. Aisha moved to the ship’s rail, watching as the sun-bleached stone buildings of Virelin became clearer.
Maryam appeared beside her as the ship began its slow turn towards the bay.
The lines under her eyes had deepened with fatigue.
‘What’s the plan when we disembark?’ Aisha asked.
Maryam bent to pet Mira. ‘I am certain the captain knows more than we do.’ She straightened. ‘I will remain with you until you are safely home, then return to Gruisea.’
‘You don’t have to take me any further than this,’ Aisha said, trying to sound brave.
Maryam’s soft eyes met hers. ‘It is not safe to cross Montia by yourself.’
They fell silent for a while.
‘Are your family still safe?’ Aisha asked, looking out at the water again.
‘Yes.’ Maryam swallowed. ‘Thanks to your silence.’
Aisha didn’t say anything further.
The ship docked right before sunset. The smell of brine and wood smoke drifted up as the dockhands secured the ropes. Captain Harun disembarked briefly to speak to the harbourmaster, then returned to talk to Aisha.
‘The harbourmaster is arranging an escort for you,’ he said. ‘The pair of you wait on the dock, and he’ll come find you.’
Aisha frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any coin to pay them upfront.’
Harun waved a hand in her direction. ‘That’s all been taken care of. The king more than covered it.’
Of course he had. Despite the enormous amount of anger he must have felt towards her, he had still ensured she was safe for the entire journey.
‘I will fetch our bags,’ Maryam said, disappearing.
‘There’s an inn nearby,’ Harun told her. ‘I suggest you rest there tonight and leave in the morning.’
Aisha nodded. ‘How many days is the journey to Avanid?’
‘Five to seven days, depending how long you can last in the saddle.’
She felt herself deflate. Home was still so far away.
Harun tipped his head once, then turned away, calling to the crew to begin offloading the crates.
Maryam returned a few moments later with their bags. When she saw Aisha’s expression, she asked, ‘Is everything all right?’
‘As well as a disgraced, seasick queen charged with murder can be.’ She attempted a humoured smile. ‘Let’s go.’
They disembarked, both grateful to be on solid land again.
‘Why does it feel like the dock is moving?’ Maryam asked.
Aisha’s mind went to her arrival in Gruisea months back, and her lips curved up at the memory. ‘You have to get your land legs back.’
‘My what?’
Aisha placed Mira on the ground and took one of the bags from Maryam. ‘It’ll pass.’
The harbour bustled as twilight deepened, lanterns flickering to life along the pier. The women waited together near a stack of cargo crates, cautiously watching their surroundings. Thankfully, the dockhands paid them little mind.
Eventually, a local man, wearing a Montian leather vest, approached. He had a shortbow slung across his back and a slight limp.
‘Evening,’ he said, frowning at Mira as he stopped in front of them. ‘I see you brought your own meat. We have plenty here in Montia, you know.’
Aisha picked Mira up and held her close. ‘She’s a companion animal.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘What, no dogs in Gruisea?’
‘Are you the escort?’ Maryam asked.
‘That’s me.’ He looked between them. ‘Which one of you is the princess?’
‘Queen,’ Maryam corrected, gesturing to Aisha. ‘Queen Aisha of Gruisea.’
He looked her up and down, his expression sceptical, and didn’t bother to bow. ‘Right. My name’s Rafiq. Captain says I’m to take you to the Stonehill Inn for the night.’
‘I’m quite looking forward to sleeping in a bed that doesn’t sway,’ Aisha said.
Rafiq chuckled. ‘And a wash, judging by the look of you.’ He began walking. ‘This way.’
The two women exchanged an amused glance before following.
Virelin was quieter than Aisha had expected. It had narrow stone alleys, packed with faded houses and shutters already drawn for the night. Lanterns glowed in doorways.
The inn sat at the top of a hill, nestled between an apothecary and a wine merchant. Its stone facade was chipped along the archway.
‘Wait here,’ Rafiq said before disappearing inside. He emerged a few minutes later. ‘Everything’s settled with the innkeeper.’ He pointed to the ground. ‘I’ll meet you at this very spot at first light. Don’t be late.’ He then limped away.
Inside, the courtyard smelled of roasted meat and cardamom.
A pang of hunger hit Aisha. Arched walkways lined the courtyard, each leading to a heavy wooden door or a curtained sleeping alcove.
A tired woman rose from a bench when she spotted them, setting aside her teacup and bowing politely. She crossed the worn rug to reach them.
‘My name is Maryam,’ the attendant said. ‘And this is—’
‘Princess Aisha of Avanid,’ Aisha finished.
Maryam didn’t correct her.
‘Welcome,’ said the woman. ‘We don’t get a lot of royal visitors. Or wild animals, for that matter,’ she added, looking pointedly at Mira.
Aisha smiled politely.
‘We would love to put our bags down,’ Maryam said.
‘Of course.’ She bowed again. ‘This way.’ She led them along a pathway before pushing open one of the doors. ‘This one’s yours.’
Aisha peered inside. The room was small but clean, with two cots and a washbasin.
‘Let me know if you need anything,’ the woman said before leaving them.
Aisha entered first, placing Mira on the bed before going over to the window and pulling back the curtain. Lights flickered across the town.
Maryam organised the bags near the wall. ‘I will get us some food,’ she said, then slipped quietly out the door.
Aisha was relieved to be alone for a few moments.
She went to fetch a clean set of clothes from the bag Maryam had packed on her behalf.
As she was digging around in search of clean linen, her fingers brushed against something soft.
She drew out a small suede pouch. Something clinked inside as she lifted it.
Untying it, she found gold dinars and a folded piece of parchment tucked in with them.
Pulling it out, she opened it, running her thumb over Tariq’s familiar handwriting.
In case you need it.
No signature. Nor was it needed. She pressed the note to her chest, closed her eyes, then tucked it back into the pouch and buried it at the bottom of the bag.
Aisha had just finished washing and changing when Maryam returned with a tray of food and some fresh water. The smell of spiced lentils filled the room.
‘They gave me some goat ribs,’ Maryam said, placing them on the ground for Mira.
The two women sat opposite each other on their cots, watching the cub gnaw noisily. They were too tired for conversation, and Aisha didn’t know what to say anyway.
When the food was gone, Mira curled up on the foot of Aisha’s bed while she lay there appreciating the silence. No men shouting or creaking timber.
The last thing she saw was Tariq’s face as he had torn the token from her neck. She pressed a hand to her chest before sleep took her.