CHAPTER 34
DAVINA
Now
I AM STARTLED AWAKE BY THE SLAM OF A DOOR. A gasp is torn from my throat as consciousness is forced upon me, followed by a wince when the muscles in my shoulders scream in agony from the prolonged lack of motion.
The pain roots me.
I’m trapped, held captive by Captain Zephyr Kentar.
Captain Zephyr Kentar, who is currently walking around the sofa I’m perched on, coming from outside. Captain Zephyr Kentar, in front of whom I fell asleep.
Seriously, Davina?
“Don’t blame yourself too hard,” he says, reading my mind. He lowers himself smoothly onto his usual chair, his companions already there, alert and watching. “You needed the rest.”
I grind my teeth and refrain from listing all the reasons why I absolutely do blame myself. Daylight streams from the lone window at the side, painting half of Zephyr’s face golden, and the air is hot and humid and . . . salty.
My breath hitches.
We are still in the Southern islands.
Hope flares for a fraction of a second. If . . . no. I have no way to benefit from that information. Not unless I somehow manage to get these damned cuffs off.
“Now, where were we?” Zephyr’s voice, a sound I have profoundly come to despise, drags me out of my head. He has once again clasped his hands in front, elbows perched on his knees. “Our first day of research in Kamar.”
Green eyes watch me smugly, victory shining in them when it’s clear we’re not going to cover my escapade from that first night, or what came after. As if I had any interest in going through the memory, with the truth-teller ready to call my every lie.
A snort almost slips out.
No, thank you.
I have enough reasons to be ashamed to last me a lifetime as it is.
Ten days ago
“I’ll take the governor’s manor,” Kwabena said over a breakfast of spiced rice, flatbread, and fresh juice. We’d once again agreed to split up in order to cover terrain faster. “I’ve met him a few times. He’ll let me through.”
I tensed and rushed to speak past a mouthful of food. “I’ll go with you.”
Armand had spent most of the night rooted to the restroom.
For once in my life, being right about it brought no satisfaction.
He was in no position to do field work, probably wouldn’t be for a while, which left me to deal with the two Kobrants on my own, regardless of his continued arguments against returning to Kantria.
It also meant we’d have no choice but to let one of the Kobrants go alone, and trust that they’d be truthful about any findings afterwards.
The last thing I wanted was to be left alone with Zephyr. Not after last night.
Especially because he’d been right.
As if he’d read my mind, he said, “No.” Not so much as a glance my way. “The governor’s not going to welcome a Widesightian in his house. We’ll take the market.”
My throat stretched as I forced the food in my mouth down. “Why don’t you go to the manor, then?”
Zephyr smirked. “I don’t know Governor Tekke half as well. Kwabena has better odds.”
The urge to argue further was unbearable but I bit my tongue.
Before heading out, I stopped by Armand’s room one last time. He was curled around a basin full of his sickness. The sight made my gut twist.
“You should go see a doctor,” I said from the door.
He didn’t look up. “No.”
“Armand, please.”
“D, no.” His voice was weak, but firm. “They won’t even see me without a Kobrant escort.”
“You could get Kwabena to accompany you on his way to—”
“Leave it,” he interjected. “Please.”
His plea pierced my heart. Bleeding mahogany, I wanted him gone from this. Wanted him back in The Paragon, even if that meant I’d be stranded here alone for good.
“At some point, I’ll have puked it all.”
And what if there’s nothing left for you to cling to? I wanted to demand.
Instead, a long, defeated exhale fell from my lips. “Fine. I’ll see if I can get you something.”
The catacombs were an absolute waste of time and mental energy.
Not only did I thoroughly hate every second I had to spend in those damp, labyrinthic tunnels with the captain as my only company, but after hours of trudging through darkness and decay, we had nothing to show for it.
All there was to find was a collection of rotting wooden coffers, likely untouched since their owners died centuries ago, and remnants of old squatter camps, probably from hitmen long before the sap was discovered.
Oh, that and animal droppings lining every damn corner.
The most interesting find was a hidden stash of amberdust—and even that was probably too old to still preserve its hallucinogenic properties.
By the time we surfaced back into the main floor of the market under which the catacombs were buried, the place was deserted. Not a single soul remained. It wasn’t much different on the square, just the odd group of pedestrians heading home after what had probably been a productive day. Lucky them.
The sun hovered low, nearing the horizon, and for the first time since I’d set foot in Kobra, I welcomed the sting of its warmth on my cheeks.
As Zephyr and I walked in silence back to the house, the urge to peel my clothes off and scrub my skin raw was overwhelming. The air between us was strange, as it had been all day. Tense and subdued, every word exchanged careful, and all of them related to the case and nothing else.
Leaving far too much room to the spiraling thoughts in my head.
We were halfway when I asked Zephyr if he knew of any apothecary that would still be open, and he grudgingly led me to a small, tucked-away shop nestled between two towering trees.
Lianas drooped from their branches, forming an additional layer of roof over the rustic building.
The old woman who ran it spoke only a handful of words in the common tongue, but it was enough.
I left with two herbal remedies in my pouch and hope burning bright in my soul.
Kwabena was already waiting in the living room when we entered the house, its walls bathed by the violet light that follows sunset.
He was sitting on one of the wooden recliners, carefully studying a paper sheet.
His beloved hat rested on the low table presiding over the space.
Armand was there, too, curled in one of the small couches.
A single glance at our faces told them everything they needed to know.
“No luck, huh?” Kwabena asked, lowering the sheet to his lap.
Zephyr dropped into the seat beside him, his deep scowl a wordless answer. Kwabena’s brows shot up in amusement and question.
“Nothing,” I said, sighing as I sank next to Armand. “Please tell me you had better luck?”
The sergeant tsked. “Not in the tunnels beneath the manor itself, if you can even call them that. They’re less catacombs, and more repurposed basement.”
I did not miss how he’d specified. “But you found something else?”
His fingers tapped the paper on his lap.
“Turns out the governor keeps a pretty detailed registry of the properties across Kamar and its latest owners.” Zephyr tensed, head snapping to the side.
His eyes scanned the document over Kwabena’s shoulder.
“Imagine my surprise,” Kwabena continued, “when I spotted Sircelen among the names. And not just once.”
Hope flared, unbidden.
“And?”
“And what more do you want?” I sagged, deflated.
He chuckled, and Zephyr used the moment to pluck the document from his lap.
“Centurion Lachlan,” Kwabena grinned, “your appetite for answers is insatiable. We may not have found what we hoped just yet, but we’ve got something to go on with. I’d call that a win.”
I exhaled. “You’re right. I just want this to be over.”
His smile softened, the teasing edge gone. “We all are. But this is not a setback. Just the next step.”
The next step on a journey that had already dragged on for over two weeks.
More than enough time for someone else to have found the stash and then have vanished without a trace.
The one piece of light I clung to was that if we’d found Dr. Sircelen’s journal in Keftara, we were likely ahead.
But we had no way of knowing whether other clues had been buried in places we hadn’t even considered.
I decided to let it drop for now, for the sake of optimism.
When I stole a glance at an unusually silent Zephyr, I found him frowning down at the list of properties on the paper, gaze unreadable.
A gentle tap against the side of my thigh drew my attention to Armand. When I turned, his dark eyes were fixed on me, quietly asking, ‘Everything alright?’.
I nodded. “I got you something.” Reaching into the sachet on my hip, I pulled out the small bundles of herbs and placed them in Armand’s palm.
“These should help. Take a pinch of the darker one before every meal, and dissolve two spoonfuls of the green one into a glass of water before going to bed,” I recited dutifully.
He eyed the remedies. “You didn’t have to.” I glared at him until his fingers closed around the pouches, not missing the acute paleness of his skin. “Thanks, Lachlan.”
I turned back to the others. “So? How many properties are we going to have to scour?”
Zephyr’s eyes met mine over the rim of the paper still in his grasp. In them, I found the answer—too many—a moment before Kwabena said, “Seven.”