6. Zari #2
“And you, Miss Ankmetta? What do you want?” Those green eyes watched her with such intensity that they glowed.
Sudden, icy fear trickled down Zari’s spine. All thoughts of him being anything other than fae vanished. She hadn’t provided her surname. “I don’t want anything.” Certainly not from him, whoever he was.
“Oh, everyone wants something, I’m sure of it.
If not now, then soon.” He brushed past her, close enough she caught the scent of minty soap and salt water.
Their shoulders bumped, and she staggered backward, only for his hand to grab hers.
They stood like that for a moment, his uncannily bright eyes locked on hers.
He nodded. “Enjoy the peace your father left you.”
He plunged into the gap between two rose bushes.
“Wait!” Zari yelled, charging after him. “What do you—” The thorns snagged at her dress and she bent to free herself. Each tug at the fabric only pulled the thorns deeper. They seemed animated somehow, as if they’d been given a mission not to let her pass.
Such a thing was impossible. Wasn’t it?
When she looked up, the stranger had disappeared entirely. Only the branches swaying in the wind made any noise. She searched the area around where he’d been and found nothing, not even a bent branch to indicate where he’d walked.
Magic , a little voice in her head said. Fae magic.
“Come back!” she yelled.
Again, she pushed aside the bushes, as if sure that the man would reappear.
He didn’t, nor could she find any trace of him at all.
This time, no thorns snarled her already-ripped dress.
In fact, it seemed most of the stems of the plants barely had thorns at all.
Which meant what had so thoroughly stopped her before had been magic.
There was no way around it, no way to logic through what she’d experienced.
Sitting on the nearest bench, she tried her best to calm her racing heart. Something crinkled in her pocket. She fumbled with one hand to retrieve another one of those strange, folded bits of paper. The man, or fae, must have slipped it to her when he’d bumped into her. But why?
“Zari?” Yansin’s voice called. Relief swept through her. He sprinted into view, his eyes wide with concern. “I heard you shouting.”
“Someone cut through the rose bushes,” she said, tucking the paper back into her pocket. “I followed them and tore my dress.” Her best dress, in fact. One she’d looked forward to wearing tonight.
His brow furrowed as he leaned past her, one hand reaching out to part the branches. “Did they upset you?”
“No.” Unnerved might be the better word, but she hardly wished to ruin the date. What good would it do to mention the use of magic, the possibility the stranger had been a fae?
Instead, she smiled at Yansin. He’d changed into a fresh shirt and pulled his auburn hair up. Apart from the artists who sometimes painted in the park, she’d never seen a man with hair as long as his. She found herself liking it a great deal. “How are you?”
“I am well, though not convinced you are.” He offered her his hand and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet.
Surely, blurting out that she’d met a strange man who might be a fae wouldn’t be the most auspicious start to a date.
“I’m sorry,” she said. A small part of her wanted to ask if he knew how to read the fae language, but given how his heritage had weighed on him earlier, she decided against it.
Her father had once told her no human had ever learned the fae’s language.
If it was easily passed down in families with fae blood, surely he would have known that.
Yansin tilted his head, looking at her a bit strangely. “Our date’s not even started and you’re already blushing. Shall I take that as a compliment? ”
“You may.”
He sketched a silly little bow, as if he was about to ask her to dance a waltz. “And may I escort you to this ice cream parlor we agreed upon?”
“You may,” she said again, this time, smiling as her worries faded like dew in sunlight. She had the night off from work. The weather was perfect. She was on a date with a kind, handsome man.
What could possibly go wrong?
Zari had never seen a store quite as charming as the new ice cream parlor.
The walls were a pale mint green, matching the cushions on the row of chrome stools, and the booths along the window.
Yansin held the door open for her, and as she entered, the sweet smell of caramel and vanilla enveloped her. “This is lovely!”
“I agree,” he replied, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. He blushed, suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll admit to being slightly worried about the first impression I’d make taking you somewhere I’ve never been before.”
“Nonsense,” Zari smiled back at him. “We’ve already made our first impressions.” In far less peaceful setting as well. Their first meeting had been forged in fire. He’d worked so tirelessly to help her save the soldiers, and so bravely fought through his own pain.
As they settled into a booth, Zari studied the paper menu. “So you haven’t been here before?”
“Even trying ice cream will be a first for me.” Yansin grinned. “Though I’ve yet to meet a sweet I didn’t like.”
The way his hazel eyes sparkled made Zari wonder if she was also a sweet to him. Was Yansin nothing more than a flirtatious cad? “The floats are supposed to be good,” Zari said, trying to distract herself from her thoughts .
The ice cream parlor was clearly a place for budding romances. A couple occupied each booth, and most had ordered the drink, which was served in a tall glass, bedecked with whipped cream and two straws.
It was a sign of the changing times. Ten years ago, when she’d first come to the city, there were few places to order food, and none so casual as this.
The idea of going out, unchaperoned, was just as new of a concept, spurred on by the post-war boom.
Many young soldiers returned to their homes with more money and more interest in finding joy in life, after fighting in such brutal battles.
Many more never returned, like Garrick Lockwood, who had been as close to a suitor as Zari had ever had.
She shivered, thinking again of the strange man in the park and his words, of the purple smoke, the silverbane, the whispers of Blood Ember’s name.
It all had to be a coincidence. The war was over. The Accords were signed.
“Zari?” Yansin asked. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh!” She blinked. Their ice cream soda had arrived and she hadn’t even noticed. “It was a long day, I’m sorry.”
He pushed the glass toward her, smiling. “This seems like what the doctor ordered then… or should I say the nurse?”
Just as she was about to take a sip, he leaned forward and brushed a bit of whipped cream over her nose.
She laughed. “I was not expecting an offensive maneuver!”
“You’re welcome to make a counter-attack.” Yansin folded his arms, as if daring her. She took the bait, swiping a glob of the cream right over his cheek. Before she could pull away, he caught her hand, and those kissable lips gently closed over the tip of her finger. A shiver raced down her spine.
“Truce?” he asked. “Or else they may throw us out of this fine establishment.”
“Indeed.” Zari smoothed her hand down her dress, pretending it had not just been licked by the most handsome man she’d ever met.
Pretending, too, her mind wasn’t racing with imaginings of other places his lips could find.
After all, Annette did have quite the collection of sordid romance novels, and Zari had read most of them.
“N-now,” she said, blushing at her stammer. “Tell me about yourself.”
“So direct,” he teased. “I had no idea courtship resembled a courtroom interrogation.”
“I’m not…” she found her blush worsening. “Oh! You’re incorrigible, aren’t you!”
“Guilty indeed.” He winked.
A sudden, loud clatter made both of them turn.
Zari, spotting the cause of the sound, a fellow patron’s glass tipped over on the table, the customers apologizing profusely, relaxed almost immediately.
Yansin, though, remained on alert. His hazel eyes had narrowed, a brightness remaining in them like the sparks of a fire, and his hand had dropped to his side, as if reaching for something no longer there.
A sword? That was Zari’s first thought, but she immediately dismissed it. Why would he have such a weapon? No enlisted soldiers wore sabers, and even the officers who did rarely ever used them, except in foolish illegal duels against each other.
Perhaps his instinct had been to reach for a pistol, though she couldn’t imagine him firing a gun, either.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her lips twisting wryly at the irony that she was now the one concerned for him.
“Mm?” He blinked, twice, until that fiery intensity faded from his gaze. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.
“That makes two of us.”
“I am honored by the absent-minded company, then.” Over their dessert, Yansin regaled her with stories of his time at the newspaper, painting vivid pictures of the bustling newsroom, the clatter of the printing press, and the work of developing photos.
In return, she talked about the hospital and her hopes of becoming a doctor.
She found herself drawn to his easy charm and his warmth .
The conversation drifted to their shared experiences, the lingering echoes of the war, and the strange, unsettling events that had brought them together. As Zari talked about her concerns, Yansin listened with sincere attention.
All his playfulness vanished as he assured her, “If there haven’t been any more attacks, we have to assume the city is safe.”
“How do we know?” Zari replied. “The Accords forbade a fae from killing a human, but what about the monster, Blood Ember? That beast was no fae.”
“It hasn’t attacked in a decade. Let’s hope it remains in nursery rhymes and nightmares, not our reality.”
“I suppose it is no topic for such a nice night as tonight.” Zari toyed with the napkin on the table between them. She’d always been rubbish at small talk and this was proving to be no exception to that.
“Indeed,” Yansin smiled. “It is difficult to offer a lady a compliment when she is so focused on detailing the depth and severity of various wounds.”
Zari giggled. “What shall we talk about instead?”
“You could tell me more about your studies. You mentioned applying to that new college for women? Although that may keep us on related topics of medical concerns and wound care.”
Still smiling, she did as he requested. It was rare enough to be able to talk about her dreams of becoming a doctor.
Rarer still to speak to a man who found such a thing wonderful, not strange or intimidating.
All too swiftly, the clock on the wall chimed nine o’clock, and Yansin stood. “I should get you back home.”
“Oh,” she said, having not noticed just how quickly the time flew by. Yansin had an easy comfort about him, a way of listening to her that made her feel as if she was the only person in the whole ice cream shop. He never seemed distracted, nor disinterested in what she had to say.
“Alas, the moon rises, as it always does.” He smiled at her, his hand outstretched to help her up.
The ride home was a comfortable silence, punctuated by the rhythmic clatter of the trolley wheels on the tracks and the soft hum of the city.
As the trolley pulled to a stop near Annette’s house, he escorted her to the entrance, his hand lightly resting on her elbow.
The old stone steps leading up to the door seemed to stretch on forever in the dim light, but Zari didn’t mind the climb.
She felt a lightness in her step that she couldn’t remember feeling before.
At the top of the stairs, she turned to face him, the faint glow of the street lamp illuminating his gentle smile. “Thank you. Tonight was wonderful.”
He dipped his head, his eyes holding hers. They were warm, like caramel drizzled over ice cream. “The pleasure was all mine, Zari. If you’d like, perhaps I might call on you again?”
She’d like that. She’d like that so much more than she knew she should, because she had laundry to do, and hospital double shifts to take and countless other responsibilities.
Zari was tired, so tired, of being responsible. “How about tomorrow?” she blurted out. “I won’t have another day off for two weeks.” Or more, if she picked up an extra set of days again.
“Tomorrow morning sounds lovely.” His eyes twinkled, as if amused, rather than annoyed, by her enthusiasm. Yansin was not like many other men Zari had met, who expected women to be coy and bashful, never direct or honest. “How about a walk in the park?”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
With a final, lingering glance, he turned and descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night.
Zari watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips, before finally turning and stepping into the house.
She set her coat on the hook by the door, then hung up her small purse.
As she smoothed her hand over her dress, she remembered the note she’d found earlier.
Zari’s breath caught. With a shaking hand, she unfolded the paper.
If you wish to save your friend Annette, come to the ruined cathedral tonight, before midnight. Come alone. Tell no one. This is a matter of utmost importance; the Accords may be at stake.