Chapter 50 A Day Like Any Other #2
Veylan navigated the ship through the rocky waters, and the familiar scent of the forgotten Lightborn lands swept Caramyn into a dream. The smell of apple blossoms, cedars, and the edge of the sea, and the crisp wind of autumn's end that cloaked itself around her.
Brenn huddled beneath his cloak as Asterious neared, distancing himself by heading to the masts to lower the sails.
Veylan docked the ship, working it between the tight-spaced piers of the Magoth docks.
Once the vessel was moored, he stomped over to the edge of the boat and dropped the gangplank with a slam.
“A favor repaid for a favor granted. Now get off my boat.”
“You have our gratitude, Captain Veylan.” The prince nodded and handed him some coins Zera had given them. “Stay here a few days so that I can send someone with further payment.”
“No need,” Veylan coughed. “I think the sailing did me more good than any gold. And I’d rather get back to the fjords than linger around this noisy place another minute.”
Caramyn thought she saw the old seaman smile again.
Brenn whisked past them across the deck and down the gangplank into the commotion of the docks where sailors were preoccupied with loading and unloading their vessels.
He spoke with a Felhold soldier, directing his attention to the water as Caramyn and Asterious snuck past with their cloaks shielding their eyes.
Nocthar flew far ahead of them, beating his wings as though he’d just been released from bondage. Once their feet were on dry land once more and they were far enough away from the patrols, Caramyn surveyed the busy port to tell Brenn goodbye, but he was gone.
Marching through the harbor, she and Asterious set their sights toward the south. Caramyn shed her outer coat, finding it too bulky and unnecessary for the temperate late autumn chill. Her cloak over her long-sleeved wool dress would suffice on its own.
“I’d thought you would’ve learned by now not to hold onto mysterious relics.” Asterious said suddenly.
“What?” Caramyn stopped in her tracks.
“The talisman.” Asterious said. “What if it’s cursed? What if he’s lying?”
“And what if he’s not? Do you really think he would curse it after all he did to help us?” A trickle of doubt crept into Caramyn’s mind. “You’re the one who told me to trust more. Now maybe it’s you who need to have a little trust,” she said. “Not in him. But in me.”
Asterious glowered. “I do trust you.”
“Good. And just to make you feel better, I have no intention of wearing it. I’ll just keep it here in my pocket—just in case.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do with it. But I have difficulty imagining a situation we could possibly get into that would require his help.”
Caramyn shook her head, and for a moment she thought of tossing the charm out in the dirt.
But even if it seemed absurd, the subtle fear of ending up in a situation like being sold to Frostlords in the Spires, or running from soldiers through the Bleak Wilderness with nothing but the clothes on her back—of facing danger alone again—made her hold onto it instead, nestled in her pocket… just in case.
Asterious’ smirk faded as he looked ahead toward the miles of terrain before them, far beyond the fishing villages of Magoth. “Now we make our way back to the Court. It’s at least another day’s walk on foot.” Asterious said with a tired but firm tone.
“Then let’s get walking.” The aroma of warm bread drifted to Caramyn’s nose, overpowering the smell of fish and stale bilgewater. “But first let’s grab something to eat. I can’t stomach another bite of that dry jerky.”
“Agreed,” the prince said, pulling his cloak even further down over his face. “Just keep your guard up and your head down.”
“A day like any other.”
As they entered the village market of Magoth, wary of their surroundings but keeping a normal pace, Asterious nudged her gently. “Actually, it’s not a day like any other at all. Today is a special day.”
Caramyn raised an eyebrow, still focused on the selection of food at the vendor table they approached. “Oh? Why is that?”
“You said you were born on the first day of the eleventh month. That’s today.”
Caramyn realized it was, and she hadn’t even noticed. She’d forgotten her own birthday, but he’d remembered. And it was certainly not what she’d expected him to bring up. But she replied inquisitively. “I…I suppose it is.”
“Well after all I’ve done, after all you’ve been through because of me, I’d like to give you something.
It can never make up for everything. But it’s a start.
” He cleared his throat, purchasing two cinnamon pastries and two legs of roasted lamb from the busy market seller, who hardly gave them a passing glance.
“So, what would you like? A garden for your plants? Another horse? Books?”
Caramyn thought for a moment as she stuffed the warm pastry into her mouth.
She pictured the Vaerwynd castle, remembering the night she snuck back to her tower, passing the magnificent ballroom in all its haunting midnight beauty.
She closed her eyes as she imagined how it might have felt to twirl gracefully across the golden marble floor when it was once in its glorious prime. She knew exactly what she wanted.
“A dance. In the castle ballroom.” She smirked, swallowing the last bit of pastry. “But I hardly think this is time for birthday wishes.” Caramyn wrinkled her nose and bit her cheek, looking ahead and the worn dirt road before them.
“Maybe not. But I swear to you, when the time is right—and it will be—you shall have your dance.” His eyes shone with a twinkle that rivaled the stars.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, prince.” Caramyn laughed. It was part-joke part-truth. How could he ever hope to dance with her when he couldn’t even touch her?
“And why wouldn’t I be able to keep that promise, apart from the obvious?” Asterious raised an eyebrow, passing a clever glance her way.
Because what if I’m wrong about everything, and we can’t break your curse, and you can never find the strength to be near me?
“Because I imagine you’re an awful dancer.”
“Then that just shows how little you know of me.” The prince’s chuckle filled the air around them and warmed Caramyn’s soul as they trudged through a cool, dense fog.
“I’m quite a skilled dancer, you should know.
I wasn't allowed to attend any of the feasts or banquets my father held, but they held private balls for just me alone in my cell.” He was nearly grinning ear to ear at his own cruel sarcasm.
“I was still required to learn all the most popular dances and courtesies of the ballroom as part of my training—just in case, they said.”
“Just in case you ever met the Witch of the Shadow Woods who asked to dance for her birthday.”
“In case I ever met the Queen of the Shadow Woods and needed to impress her.” He feigned a bow, nearly tripping as they walked.
Caramyn beamed at him in a way she hadn’t thought possible, and in a way she knew didn’t make sense.
Here they were joking about dancing, pretending the hideous truth wasn’t keeping them apart—that he could kill her if he so much as thought about her too long.
And it would trap him in his eternal consequence.
And yet she would be willing to risk it a thousand times over just to hear that laugh, low and unguarded, meant only for her.
For the way the sound of her name on his voice made her breath falter, for the warmth that spread through her at the smallest brush of him, and for the ache that followed when he pulled away.
Nocthar cawed overhead, gliding past them as if to urge them onward. Asterious’ smile faded as he took a slow breath inward. “I hate to ruin the fun, but if we hope to reach the Court by tomorrow, we can’t afford to stop for more than a quick piss and drink.”
Caramyn readjusted the bow at her back and straightened her shoulders. “Then let’s shut up and move.”
Without any further exchange of words, they followed the raven, pushing themselves to walk faster and farther.
Into the night they carried on in silence, too tired to speak even if they wanted to.
When the great towering steeples of Vaerwynd finally came into view, and Caramyn spotted a torch burning in the distance, she started to smile, thinking it was Terrin waiting to greet them.
But it was only as the flame approached, faster than faster, she realized it was Tyrios, panicked and rushing to meet them.
“Thank the Shattered gods you’re back.” He skidded to a stop, panting out the words.
“What’s wrong, Tyrios?” Asterious’ weary eyes suddenly opened wide with concern.
“The scouts have received word that Sinevia has left for the Woods. And she has an army of Shadow Soldiers waiting in Felhold, ready to be resurrected. And their first order—” Tyrios breathed. “To destroy Vaerwynd and burn the witchlands.”
Asterious bit his cheek. “She believes she’s finally powerful enough to steal the Veil’s power for their life source. If we hope to beat her there, we have no choice but to leave before sunrise.”
Caramyn sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide one of many countless yawns, her exhausted joints aching with each movement. Asterious glanced at her with bloodshot eyes before continuing. “We’ll sleep a few hours tonight while we can, but tell Terrin to have the horses ready at midnight.”
“So be it. I’m eager to meet your dear sister.” She lifted her chin, finding buried strength at the thought of someone infiltrating the forbidden forest she’d spent so many years guarding. “And I’m very much beginning to miss my Woods.”