CHAPTER 11
DAVINA
One month ago
IT WASN’T ALL THAT brILLIANT OF AN IDEA, AFTER ALL.
Well, the plan itself was, it was the execution I was having trouble with.
Splitting up to cover more ground had seemed efficient, logical.
What I hadn’t accounted for was how quickly it would be turned into a babysitting arrangement.
The moment Zephyr’s perpetual scowl deepened, I knew I’d walked right into a trap.
We were in Kostrols, and we had split up to cover more ground alright. Two teams, they’d said. Not four. Each pair to be made up of one Widesightian, one Kobrant.
To ensure everyone’s best interests were respected.
In other words: Captain Zephyr Kentar didn’t trust me. Fine. I had no intention of trusting him either. But that didn’t mean I wanted him glued to my side like a shadow.
I glared daggers at his back as we strolled through the narrow streets of Kostrols.
Gone was his signature vest and dark, plain clothes; instead, he now wore soft, sand-toned linen like the locals, loose trousers, and a breezy tunic that did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he had—objectively speaking—a perfect ass.
An ass I would pay good money to kick from here to Kantria.
The light, airy clothes preferred by Kipiramidans meant I was stuck with a thin robe in fawn linen, cool and breathable, but utterly impractical.
It clung to my torso, wrapped around my neck and lower back, and fell to mid-calf with twin slits up each thigh, making it impossible to conceal even the smallest weapon.
I hated going into any situation unarmed, even if the sap inked across my body made me far from defenseless.
At least I’d managed to get a matching head scarf to tuck my hair neatly back, and a hood flowed down my shoulders in a soft shimmer. I tugged at one of the slits, trying to coax the fabric lower over my thigh. It didn’t help.
As I trailed after the captain down yet another sandstone street, something glinted at the corner of my eye, catching my attention. “Wait,” I called, already veering off without checking if he’d stopped. “Let’s check this one.”
I approached the store, eyeing the strange, old devices crammed onto shelves and crooked displays. When I pushed at the door, it barely opened, catching after just a few inches. I leaned into it, shoved harder.
The door gave way suddenly, almost making me trip.
A glance over my shoulder revealed Zephyr had closed in and was holding it open for me, his wide palm splayed on its sand-bitten, rough surface, his face hard.
Arrogant prick.
The cramped space was illuminated by dozens of candles, their flames flickering gold against rows of metal and glass trinkets.
One wall was covered entirely in carpets and rugs, each threaded with twisted patterns that looked like they belonged to a long-lost era.
The opposite wall bore shelves and cabinets brimming with ornaments, charms, jewelry and lamps of every color and shape imaginable.
A woman studied a shelf of books, her amber gaze briefly meeting mine before flicking back to the texts.
“Good evening,” came a voice.
The man who stepped forward was younger than I expected for a place like this. No older than me, tall and lean like the bough of a willow. I flicked a glance at Zephyr, but his expression hadn’t changed from the last ten shops we’d entered today: shut tight, and radiating distrust.
Suppressing a sigh, I pinned on a bright smile. “Hi!”
Sand and small shards crunched beneath my boots as I drew closer to the counter. The seller’s head nearly brushed the low ceiling, even with his chin tilted toward me.
“We were hoping to find something original to decorate our new office,” I chirped. “With links to Kobrant history that’ll help us connect with the land, ideally.”
I saw Zephyr’s jaw twitch from the corner of my eye.
He’d refused to pretend we were a couple in all of our previous attempts, so I had decided to stop asking.
Unfortunately, the seller must have seen it too.
His dark eyes shifted toward him, assessing the danger of a man who might not let his ‘wife’ get what she wanted. Unease slipped into his expression.
Damn you, Zephyr Kentar.
I should have done this with Armand and his easing smiles.
Instead, I was forced to dial my non-existing charm up. “Is there anything like that?”
His eyes returned to me. “Maybe. What sort of artifact are you after? Lamps? Vases? Paintings?”
“No, not quite.” I frowned, pretending to consider. “I thought maybe a lamp, or a mirror, but that feels wrong. I want something older. Something . . . steeped in history.”
His eyes kept glancing over my shoulder, straight to where Zephyr brooded like an overprotective wraith. This wasn’t going to work unless the seller stopped feeling watched. Or threatened.
I tapped my chin thoughtfully, keeping the act going.
“I was hoping to speak to a Widesightian historian I heard lives here, but when we visited his house earlier, no one answered.” It was a gamble, and I could only hope news of the fire hadn’t got to this side of the city just yet.
I even pouted a little for emphasis. “I was so excited to talk to someone from home.”
Useless. His gaze remained fixed over my shoulder.
I couldn’t believe I had to resort to what I did next.
But if there ever was one reason to do it, it had to be this mission.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the counter, arms pressed close together.
The robe’s neckline shifted just enough to give the seller a clear view of the tops of my breasts.
And because some things were eternal truths, his attention returned to me.
First to my chest, then—thankfully—to my face.
A light blush colored the tops of his cheeks.
Shoving the urge to roll my eyes down, I went in for the kill.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I might find him, would you?
” I asked sweetly, letting my eyes drift across the shop.
“This seems exactly the kind of place he’d love to visit.
” I smiled up at him, and it was a real one as I watched how his eyes tried and failed not to fall from my face.
Something brushed against my outer thigh, snatching my attention. I straightened twisting, and stumbled straight into a firm hand wrapping around my waist. Zephyr’s hand. My chest and side were all of a sudden pushed against his body, but it very well could have been carved stone.
“Keep your eyes off my wife.”
A breath caught in my throat. Damned be the captain and the way he’d growled the words. I knew it was all for pretense, but his grip above my hip felt real enough to unsettle me.
I cleared my thoughts, shifting slightly in a silent command for him to release me. Thankfully, he did, stepping up beside me at the counter. Once I was able to breathe again, to think, I gawked at him.
What the heck was that?
The brunt of his glare was not directed at me, though, but at the poor, trembling shopkeeper.
“Umm.” The man’s lower lip shook like a leaf in a storm, his attention now unwaveringly fixed on the floor beneath him. “I-I don’t-t know anyone like t-that,” he stammered. “S-sorry.”
Bleeding sap.
I fought the urge to curse out loud, feeling bad enough for him as it was. His shoulders had slumped so much, he looked half the height he was when we walked in. The longer Zephyr glared at him, the paler he got.
Knowing to recognize a dead end when I saw one, I clenched my teeth, muttered a thank you, grabbed the bane of my existence by the forearm, and dragged him out of the shop, leaving its shivering owner in peace.
As soon as the heavy door fell closed behind us, I whirled on the captain. “What the hell was that? After all that bullshit from yesterday, are you trying to hinder this mission?” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “If so, you’re doing an incredible job.”
He raised a brow, unfazed. “You might not have noticed, but your entire head is red. Have you seen any other redheads around here?”
Unbelievable.
“That had nothing to do with me. The poor man was terrified of opening his mouth. He could have never seen Dr. Sircelen in his entire life, or he could have been his lover, for all we know. And now we’ll never find out because your scary, brooding self put his defenses on high alert.”
He stepped in, close enough that my still-pointed finger pressed against his chest. Leaning down on it, he snarled, “Or maybe it was because you’re a foreigner acting like a lunatic.”
My hands balled into fists so tight, my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to throttle him so bad. I wouldn’t, because that was just not who I was. But curse sap, did I want to.
Instead, I counted to three in my head, took a deep breath, turned on my heels, and marched down the street.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To do my sapdamned job!”
Dust and sand crunched behind me, betraying his first steps in pursuit. I stopped and looked over my shoulder, lifting a hand to halt him. “You misunderstood, Captain Kentar. I am—”
“Zephyr,” he corrected.
“Zephyr.” I hissed it, not to appease him, but in the hopes of making it past his thick skull. “I’m going to do this alone. I’ll see you back at the house.”
“That’s not how this works.” I turned slightly, and there he was again, standing too damn close, brow lowered in stubborn defiance.
“It is now,” I snapped. “The moment your attitude cost us our fifth attempt at gaining intel,” my hand waved between us, “this stopped being a team effort.”
His nostrils flared, his whole face sharpening into a mask of fury. For a moment there, he looked like some ancient god of wrath carved into life. We held each other’s stare for a few seconds, none of us budging.
“The way I see it,” I said eventually, voice low and final, “you have two options. Let me go and do this my way . . . or we both return empty handed.”
He still said nothing. Dark, green eyes travelled between my own from under a burrowed frown before falling to my twisted lips. “Fine,” he snapped.
I blinked, wondering if I heard him wrong.
Don’t look at the gifted horse in the mouth, Davina.
Recovering quickly, I turned on my heel. “See you later!”
When I reached the end of the street, I had to fight the urge to glance back. To see if he was still standing there, smoldering in front of the artifact shop. Steeling my spine, I stifled it and walked around the corner.
Finally, I could try to get some work done. And I swore to myself that I would not face the captain again unless I had a clue to show for it.
Over the next few hours, I visited six more shops I thought Dr. Sircelen might have frequented.
After the second one, I switched tactics, claiming to be Silvester Sircelen’s granddaughter rather than just a patriotic Widesightian.
It earned me a few kind condolences from shopkeepers who had known him and had heard of his passing.
But no clues. No leads.
Nothing.
Night fell. Shops began to shutter their doors, their signs dimming one by one.
A few firelights flared to life along the streets, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows that felt like mockery to my dying hope.
I still walked one street after another, hoping to find a store that stayed open until late.
Finding none.
Cursed sap, I would truly hate walking back to that house with nothing to prove for my efforts after my fight with Zephyr, but I was starting to accept there was nothing more I could do.
Right when I took the first few steps in the general direction of the house, eyes still searching for lit storefronts, I was ambushed.