Chapter 29
Jane
Dinner would be held on Vassar Island, a stretch of land near the coast. We were meant to discuss the Order’s looming threats and probe the possibility of an alliance that might give us access to their network of spies.
From what I understood, the elvenborn were viewed by the Order as little better than the hybrid-born, but Finn and Reagan didn’t seem confident that such low esteem would be enough to motivate them to form an alliance. Not without something in return.
After our long tour of the alabaster palace, where the Elven Lords showed us a myriad of old paintings, and a stroll along the river, I was offered a chamber for the next few days. Finally, I had privacy to gape at the near ocean beyond the canopy of trees. No city in sight.
Until an elven maid appeared at the door, handing me a dress for tonight.
Calling it a dress felt generous. Apparently, we were supposed to wear something like what they wore, rather than the sensible clothes I’d brought.
The shimmering red bodice was a narrow tube and too small for me.
And yet, it adjusted enough to fit, clinging to every curve of my torso, held by two thin straps knotted at my nape.
However, I liked the back, bare until the waist, and the skirt, which fell straight to my feet in crimson chiffon.
It reminded me of some dresses I’d worn to dance.
I’d just begun wrestling with the torture-heels when a knock sounded at the antechamber door. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Reagan answered.
“You can come in,” I said, hearing the knob turn.
“Finn will meet us here,” he replied, footsteps echoing outside.
Glass clicked as I fastened a hairpin into a gap in my skirt, careful not to rub it with my bare fingers. When I stepped into the soft cream antechamber, Reagan was by a tray of decanters.
“Most drinks here might have velmoria in them,” he warned, with his back to me.
Elven dust in the drinks. I wondered if the velmoria flowers were the same as the milk-glass blooms outside.
Reagan spun, lifting a crystal glass to his lips and tipping the contents.
My mouth went dry. His shirt was unbuttoned. The sight of his honed chest and stomach sent a flush of heat through me. His trousers ended above the knee, leaving a startling expanse of golden skin exposed. Not that he seemed to mind.
At the moment, he didn’t seem to mind anything, least of all me. And the deliberate way he kept his eyes away made my chest tighten. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Why did they give us these clothes?” I asked, treading my fingers though my hair. “So we don’t stand out?”
Reagan’s eyes flicked downward as he poured another glass. “Our clothes have too many layers. Too many runes.”
I looked at myself, the smooth, shimmering fabric stretched over my chest, and hummed.
“They like their games,” he said, eyes flicking around the room. “We go along if we want what we came for.”
“Is that why they kissed you?” I asked, sinking onto a sofa as my ankles protested the heels. “To play a game?”
His gaze flickered to the slit of my dress, exposing my leg after I sat, then he seemed to catch himself. “It’s their home.”
He leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. I wanted to ask if he had minded being kissed or if he had even enjoyed it, but for some reason, I got the impression that he didn’t care about that either.
“Aren’t you going to close your shirt?” I asked to fill the silence.
Reagan glanced down at himself, then toward the door. “It doesn’t have buttons.”
My brows lifted just as another knock echoed through the chamber. Finn stepped inside, scowling, and shut the door behind him.
“We look like offerings to be sacrificed,” he muttered.
A subtle smirk crept over my lips. He wore the same style of clothes as Reagan, a green open shirt revealing his toned chest while Reagan’s was white, paired with short trousers cut from thin fabric that looked suspiciously like swimwear.
Swimwear.
My pulse leapt, and I sprang upright. “Are we going to swim?” I asked, horrified.
Finn, bless him, kept his eyes on my face, rubbing his palms together as if he were cold. “Apparently yes.”
My chest tightened. I looked at Reagan, who for the first time seemed genuinely concerned.
Instinctively, I reached for the cord at my neck, seeking the small pendant that marked my location. I hadn’t brought many relics on this trip, hadn’t known what to expect.
Reagan shuffled towards me. “It’s only a dinner,” he murmured.
Only a dinner. If it involved nothing more than a pool, I could manage.
“You know it’s never only a dinner,” Finn muttered as he poured himself a drink. Again, he seemed rattled, as if this family got under his skin in ways no one else did.
Rough fingers pried the round reflective pendant from my hand. The surface shimmered beneath his touch. It was the location relic he’d enchanted for me.
“I expected challenges,” I murmured, “but more like negotiation or finding what we could offer them. Not this.”
“You know how to swim,” Reagan said, meeting my gaze this time. He waited until I nodded before turning to Finn. “We handle them the way we always do.”
Finn winced down his drink, and the charming emissary mask slipped smoothly back into place.
We left my chamber and returned to what I had begun to think of as the audience hall. A palace maid led us through a different exit, down a shaded path lined with low trees and bristling shrubs. The path opened directly onto the edge of the ocean.
Dread coiled in my stomach. Far off, in the gathering dusk, the faint silhouette of an island was etched against a sky awash with blues and oranges.
“You all look delicious,” Iqbal’s voice called from behind us. His trousers hung lower than the others, baring muscular thighs. He wore no shirt. His pointed ears peeked through unbound hair. “I trust the clothes please you.”
“Not our usual choice,” Reagan said smoothly, unconcerned. “But I imagine you chose light fabrics for tonight’s activities.”
I waited for Iqbal’s response, but he only smiled.
“So you figured out tonight’s plans?” Eldar asked as he approached. His shirt hung open over a smooth, blue-tinted chest.
“Not difficult,” Finn replied, his tone breezier.
These people possessed heightened senses and a natural ease with the elements, like water. I catalogued the three who followed their lords: Anife, Maith, and Arun, each draped in the same light fabrics who would present minimal resistance.
Arun’s loose shirt snapped open in the breeze, revealing a body built for stamina. Anife wore a cream dress that resembled a second skin, with a choker at her throat and heels matching mine. Maith’s onyx dress clung to her in a single sweep of silk, and she wore no shoes at all.
“Eldar, is this your idea?” Anife asked, sounding amused. “I wish you had warned me. I would have told the others to swim with us.”
“Probably better not to let the whole court see how fast they can outpace Atkus,” he said, watching Finn. “How long has it been since you were in the ocean, nephew?”
“Not long enough,” Finn replied.
Eldar held his stare while Iqbal sighed skyward. “Let us see how far you can swim for a man who neglects his gifts.”
I would not have believed a jest so obvious could strike true, yet Finn’s cheek flexed.
We fell into step behind the elves.
“As much as I enjoy this lack of restriction in our clothes,” Reagan said, “I imagine it will be unpleasant to plunge into freezing water.”
“You can shield yourselves from the cold if it becomes too much for you,” Eldar replied, slipping off his shirt and knotting it through a belt loop. “And from the sirens, I expect.”
My heart seized. I glanced at Finn beside me.
Reagan’s eyes narrowed, his diplomacy slipping. “I forgot you have a habit of letting your guests fend for themselves in Banfgaard.”
Eldar met his glare. “I’m always keen to see what Mage Lords can do.”
“Yes.” Reagan smirked. “We are quite impressive when it comes to keeping guests warm and dry.”
Iqbal howled with laughter while Eldar’s mouth curved into a vicious smile.
“If it’s a problem,” Arun interjected, “I can arrange another way to take you.” His gaze flicked back to us. “And them.”
Reagan waited, as though he expected the Elven Lords to come to reason. Judging by their expressions, this was another game, and accepting Arun’s offer would place us on hostile ground.
“No problem,” Reagan drawled, dry as salt. “We are perfectly capable of taking ourselves.”
“It’s not too difficult,” Arun pressed, earning a thoroughly unwelcoming look.
“Just avoid the sirens’ eyes and swim faster than the spiders,” Maith added lightly.
Sirens. Sea spiders. Real ones. Unless they swam like children, I wouldn’t outpace either.
I slowed, thinking of what excuses I could give to stay behind. Maybe I could claim a stomach-ache.
Finn curved an arm around my back, steering me forward. “You swim between me and Reagan, and you will be fine.”
Ahead, the others were already moving toward the shoreline.
“I can’t swim fast,” I mouthed, aware that even a whisper might be caught by their hearing.
“Do I need to carry you?” he asked quietly, entirely serious.
“No. I know how to swim. Just not well.” I’d done it only once. Why did it have to be swimming?
We reached a narrow ribbon of sand, darkened by the tide. Perhaps an hour of light remained. It would have to be enough.
“How far is the island?” Reagan asked.
“Fifty minutes of steady swimming,” Iqbal replied, as though describing a stroll.
“Are there many sirens and sea spiders here?” I asked, keeping my voice level.
“That depends on what you consider many,” Arun said. “Are you afraid of them?”
I had never seen either. I remembered Reagan and the Lord of Erisea once hunting spiders the way humans hunted rabbits. It couldn’t be that terrible.
“I’m afraid of anything that swims faster than me and considers me a meal,” I said, reaching for wit.
It worked. Wicked amusement lit Arun’s face. “I do not know how fast you swim,” he said, letting his shirt fall to the sand, “but the rest should not be difficult to satisfy.”
His words sank in. My eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Save it for the party, Arun,” Finn said, guiding me toward the water. “Take off your shoes.”
Anife had already done so, knotting her dress around her thighs. The men were bare-chested now, stepping toward the surf.
I stared at the darkening water, imagining their effortless strokes. Imagining sirens brushing past me. Imagining fabric tearing under the pull of the current.
It would be a miracle if I reached the island at all.